<?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-19843291</id><updated>2011-12-03T11:00:54.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</title><subtitle type='html'>No one gets me like you do....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114918961865433110</id><published>2006-06-01T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T14:43:43.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have a great HNT!</title><content type='html'>I haven't played in awhile because as much as I thought about it, I always remembered on Friday! Duh.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, here is this weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/320/HNT.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I took a few shots one morning for my Stallion because I love to tease him by sending him picture messages of different parts of my body :-P He got one that was a little bit racier. ;-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you want to play, check out the link in my sidebar! &lt;a href="http://osbasso.blogspot.com/2005/05/guidelines-for-half-nekkid-thursday.html"&gt;Happy HNT! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114918961865433110?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114918961865433110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114918961865433110' title='38 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114918961865433110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114918961865433110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/06/have-great-hnt.html' title='Have a great HNT!'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>38</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114901280493479980</id><published>2006-05-30T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T11:13:24.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/bearrose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/bearrose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats love to you?&lt;br /&gt;Is it a stuffed little bear that came out of a happy meal? Were you able to make that instant connection with the person you love over chicken nuggets and a happy meal toy?&lt;br /&gt;Is it a rose, cut from his garden; given out of love and affection because he knows you are just a bit down today?&lt;br /&gt;Or is it the fact that she keeps both in a place where she will constantly be reminded of him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think its all of the above. After one emotional moment after another, from Friday to Monday, things feel leveled out this morning. Its amazing how our emotions peak in such a way, from all the good to the really bad, to the moment that tells you that where you are, is right where you should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that bothered me the most was last night, when him and his brother both told me that I should be at their house right now because the family doesn't feel complete without me at the BBQ. It bothered me because I couldn't go and make that completion. I was touched by what they said and wished for, but I bothered myself, you know? Needless to say, there will be many more family gatherings that I will &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; be missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here it is....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://stoppingtraffic.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/200/dw3xoj.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Have you ever been nude/semi-nude in public (sunbathing/photoshoot/streaking...)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No... I mean, sunbathing yes, but thats not really all that semi-nude right? It would be pretty cool though... ;-)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Have you ever had sex at your workplace?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;LOL no. But I probably would. I mean, not where I could get caught and loose my job, but if I knew that I could do it without the risk. I'm not too much into the possibility of loosing my job, even for a good lay. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Do you ask your partners to take an AIDS test or ask if they have?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ok this is going to sound bad and maybe nieve to some people, but I have only ever been with virgins. Total = 3. I should ask my current husband though... *thinks about it* lol (The Stallion will SO not laugh at that and will probably think it IS a good idea)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Ever tried a beer bong?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;LOL No! But I so would if I was drunk enough!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Have you ever spread a rumor about your ex or ex's new gf/bf?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ummm... maybe? Ok yes. I'm a bitch, what can I say? Plus I am a really jealous person, my eyes even turn red LOL.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bonus (as in "optional"):&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt; What are your views about circumcision??&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well now I can say I have been with both circumcised and not. There isnt much difference to me. I prefer not. As far as whats right and wrong, I think there is no right or wrong. Its all about preference in my opinion. My son is circumcised but my next one might not be just because I dont see the point really.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://stoppingtraffic.blogspot.com/"&gt;Did you play?&lt;/a&gt; If not, you should!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone enjoyed their 3 day weekend (if they got it)! I know I did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114901280493479980?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114901280493479980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114901280493479980' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114901280493479980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114901280493479980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/05/whats-love.html' title='Whats love?'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114849892804298037</id><published>2006-05-24T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T14:08:24.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Relay for Life 2006</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/RFLBanner_large.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/RFLBanner_large.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image051.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend we had the opportunity to attend and work the American Cancer Society &lt;a href="http://www.cancer.org./docroot/par/content/PAR_1_Relay_For_Life.asp"&gt;Relay for Life&lt;/a&gt; in our little city. The picture to the left is my Sunshine and the Stallion walking in the final lap of the 24 hour relay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, I was asked to be on the comittee and took on the job of Registration Chair. It's an intimidating job, let me tell you. Being responsible for all the relayers, surviors, and team registration forms and money is a lot of work!! But it was so worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a city, we raised over $53,000 towards cancer research. Wow! How amazing and impowering. It feels good to have been apart of something so wonderful. To know that that money is going to help so many people feels awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, my BFF and the Stallion pretty much stayed at the registration table all day. We were taking registation forms and money ALL day long, well into the night. It slowed down alot after about midnight. By 10:00 or so, the kids were all asleep in the tent. The Coach took off for home around midnight. Around 1 AM, me and the Stallion took off to his house down the street, took a shower, got some PJ's on and went back. We grabbed some Del Taco (2AM Del Taco rules) and ate in the car. We ended up talking about our grandma's, sharing a few tears, and just really opening up to each other in another way we haven't. We also had some "alone time" (for the second time that night LOL) in the car... The event was held at his school and he kinda got off on that haha. After that, we went walking around the school. There is a big bridge that seperates the fields from the campus and we walked up on it, sat under the stars and talked. After that, it was (round 3) then time for a little bit of sleep. It was about 5am by that time. We slept in the motor home for about an hour then woke up to close out the ceremony. We didnt leave the field until after 1pm Sunday afternoon. We had to get the final count of money in to be dropped at the bank. It was a long 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/Image032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the best times of the relay is the &lt;a href="http://www.cancer.org/docroot/COM/content/div_Eastern/COM_5_1x_Illuminate_Hope.asp?sitearea=COM"&gt;luminaria &lt;/a&gt;ceremony. This years did not go as well as last years, but it was still very important to those of us who have lost people to cancer. The bag on the left brought new respect and even more love for The One Who Makes My Heart Smile. As I was walking the lap for the luminaria ceremony with my Sunshine, I saw him hunched next to this bag, with his head down. I had no idea at the time what he was doing. Later that night, he lead me over to the bag and explained that this was the luminaria made to honor his granmother, who passed 2 years ago this June to cancer. We talked later about it and he was able to reflect on the love he had for her. It brought us that much closer together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, the relay was a success. I cannot wait until next year. I have so many ideas on how to make registration better and ways that I will be able to enjoy the relay but still know that the registration area is being handled. Hopefully next year I can bring back as many memories as I did this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114849892804298037?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114849892804298037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114849892804298037' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114849892804298037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114849892804298037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/05/relay-for-life-2006.html' title='Relay for Life 2006'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114842738923322399</id><published>2006-05-23T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T16:36:29.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Moly</title><content type='html'>Has it really been almost a month? I hate that I do that. I swear, sometimes I think I have nothing to talk about, when I really really do. There is always something going on in my head that I can write about. When there isnt anything up there, I will start to worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got my first black eye yesterday. The Stallion is going to kill me because I keep mentioning it but you know what, I think its cool and funny. I know how stupid that sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/blackeye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g167/ruraandmiss/blackeye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dont mind that I am wearing NO makeup and look hideous. I dont even have an excuse, I am &lt;em&gt;at work&lt;/em&gt; looking that that. Keepin in real.... real scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, I earned my black eye in the best way possible - changing positions, from the top to the bottom. We were pretty into it too, and it might have killed his mood a bit but after some ice, I was ready to keep going. Why turn down a good thing? It turned purpleish about 3 hours later. Now it has a hint of red in it... I look like a &lt;a href="http://www.maccosmentics.com"&gt;MAC &lt;/a&gt;girl. But a really fucked up one who never learned how to put on her makeup. Thanks for the shiner baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, enjoy this -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://stoppingtraffic.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/200/dw3xoj.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Which is more important of the two in "chemisty," physical attractiveness or sexual performance?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I think you have to be attracted to someone to even get to the sexual performance. I mean, who wants to fuck someone who is ugly? Does that sound shallow? LOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Would you rather have sex with someone who is a good with their mouth (in every sense) but small (flat chested or teenie penie), or a bad with their mouth but well endowed?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cant say I have experienced either of those. Luckily for me, the Stallion is both well endowed and is EXCELLENT with his mouth. [I swear, I would make him the most popular guy EVER if only his buds could get me to spill all this to them! LOL]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Do you prefer natural tastes or flavored lubes?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Most flavored lubes have funky after taste. I'll go with natural here.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Have you ever been scared the first time you kissed someone that you might never kiss them again?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;OMG yes! I hate that... with the Stallion, his kiss was so damn good the first time, I needed it again. Except I didnt quite know how to go about getting it. Good thing he has big balls and went after me again! LOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Do you play music, tv, or other noise in the background when you have sex?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We usually have the radio, Ipod, or a CD playing. It turns me on when he sings to me and later, when I am listening to the radio or something, I remember what I was doing the last time I heard that song. [and I want to do it again!]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bonus (as in "optional"): Most embarrassing sexual moment? (that was cruel wasn't it?)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sheesh...... well it was pretty embarrassing asking for ice when butt naked after I was head butted. LOL&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;At least I wasnt the one that had to get dressed and go get it! LOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that was fun. I am really gonna try this time to keep up with this. Promise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114842738923322399?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114842738923322399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114842738923322399' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114842738923322399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114842738923322399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/05/holy-moly.html' title='Holy Moly'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114626386502830037</id><published>2006-04-28T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T15:42:04.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is eating really worth it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/48/136259260_6c8f5d151e_m.jpg" /&gt;Thats the view from my window at work. The first half of the parking lot is for "customer parking only". They actually spray painted this on the curb in front of each space. The second half is basically "anyone can park here" parking. Employee parking is behind that building in the far left. Yea thats across the street. No one parks there unless a)they show up to work after 8:30 or b)they leave the lot for lunch. You get extremely LUCKY if you do either a or b and find a spot when you get back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has made me contemplate the question, "&lt;em&gt;Is eating really worth it?&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what, I love to eat but I hate parking across the street. Somedays, I make a tough choice. Other days, I just watch to see about 5 people leave for lunch, grab my purse, run out the door, speed off to get my lunch, and rush back to get one of those spots. Then I eat at my desk and read blogs about &lt;a href="http://www.clumsycajun.com"&gt;gas&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114626386502830037?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114626386502830037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114626386502830037' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114626386502830037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114626386502830037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/04/is-eating-really-worth-it.html' title='Is eating really worth it?'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114505473334414673</id><published>2006-04-14T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T15:45:33.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the days go by....</title><content type='html'>Every day that passes this month just keeps getting stranger and stranger. Yesterday was a pretty craptastic day. I found time to spend with the One Who Makes My Heart Smile (even if it was only about 2 hours) and I dont think we said more than 15 words to each other. From the moment I picked him up, he seemed to be upset with me. When we had spoke earlier in the day, everything seemed fine. It was really bad when we left my BFF's house. He didnt say more than 5 words to me. I am still wondering what motivated him to act that way towards me. I thought a long time about it after wards trying to figure out what I had done to him and I just couldn't figure it out. Of course I went through the normal thoughts of self doubt and all that. I think I might have been angry at him for his behavior for all of about 2 seconds. After that I just felt sad. For the first time since we have been together, last night was the first time that we did not kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I dont need this added drama in my life. But if I didnt have this drama, ultimately that would mean that he would not be in my life. Last night, I cried myself to sleep thinking of all the wonderful things that he brings to my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He makes me feel beautiful.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everytime we are together, we make each other laugh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He makes me feel smart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He loves me for me and he isnt trying to make me into someone else.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He loves my son.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He makes me smile EVERY SINGLE DAY.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He gives me a reason to fight for my future. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also thought about all the things I would be loosing if I lost him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My smile&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My strength&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dancing at our wedding&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Writing our own vows &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Having beautiful babies with his lips and my eyes. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Growing old with someone I love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My best friend&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many more things that I can add to both these lists. But to me, he is more than just a few lists in a blog. He is the love of my life. I consider myself so lucky that I was presented this second chance at love, happiness, and forever with someone so special. I know all this to be true because at 6:30 this morning, I got a text message with his apology for acting stupid. He was sincerely sorry for the way he acted. I was seriously scared of the thought that I could loose him. I knew that what happened last night did not mean the end but the thought that someday it could actually happen, scared me so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about it is, every day I am watching him change. I realized something today. I am watching him grow up. In some ways, I know that he resents our situation and his choice to be with me. Even if its a sliver of resentment, its there, I can feel it. Its an ugly little sliver of distain for the choices he has made and the commitment that he might be scared to live up to. But I have known all of this for a long time. I have just been trying to stop that sliver from growing into something huge. I think I am starting to slip up and its getting bigger with each passing day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm trying. I'm trying so hard and thats all I can give.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114505473334414673?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114505473334414673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114505473334414673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114505473334414673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114505473334414673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/04/days-go-by.html' title='the days go by....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114419801138031704</id><published>2006-04-04T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T17:46:51.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess who's back......</title><content type='html'>Wow... its been forever and a day. I didnt forget about my blogger.... I promise. I have just been so dang busy that its sick. I started my new job and its great. I love it. I get my first full pay check on the 6th so we'll see how fat it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been nothing short of interesting. I still have the Coach on my ass, riding me like crazy. Its hard to get up and leave, which I'm sure some people can relate to. When he talks to me or tries to touch me, I feel nothing. We sleep in seperate rooms and I love having my bed to myself. I wish I could fill it with someone else of course, but its I will be able to soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am still with my Stallion. Going on 5 strong months next week. He knows me and he still loves me. He struggles daily with my marriage and I hate to bring that upon him but the love he has for me seems to help him through it. We had a little rough patch not too long ago. Weekends are what seems to be the hardest for both of us. The Coach has been trying to keep me on lockdown so it makes it hard for me to even breathe without being questioned why. I swear, he watches my every move like a halk. So my time with my Stallion has been hard to find. I mean, we still find every opportunity we can to be together and its so good when we are. He can read all my signs that I give, emotionally and physically and he is so good at what he does. He is so good at loving me. He knows how to push my buttons and how to calm me at the same time. He just knows me, inside and out. And he appreciates me. God how he does. Its all of these things that keep my love for him so strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;em&gt;All my life, I prayed for someone like you. I thank God that I finally found you. And I hope that you feel the same way too....]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114419801138031704?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114419801138031704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114419801138031704' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114419801138031704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114419801138031704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/04/guess-whos-back.html' title='Guess who&apos;s back......'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114184580826857888</id><published>2006-03-08T11:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T11:23:28.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I guess I could.....</title><content type='html'>update that is.....&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Its been a strange past few days. On Thursday, my job "let me go". They stated that since I was leaving already, I could just go that day. It was stupid and I felt that it was unecessary. So I have been off work since then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a party for my Sunshine this Saturday. He turned 5 yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh I feel stuck.... I dont know what to write right now.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise more later.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114184580826857888?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114184580826857888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114184580826857888' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114184580826857888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114184580826857888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-guess-i-could.html' title='I guess I could.....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114116425854931864</id><published>2006-02-28T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T14:04:18.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.yanowhatimean.com/tuesday/tarchives/002544.php" title="Ten on Tuesday" target="_blank"&gt;Ten on Tuesday &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;10 Things You Want, But Don't Need&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Definetly an Ipod. I seriously want one of these. With the amount of music I listen to, I should have one.&lt;br /&gt;2. A Laptop. This would make being online all night sooo much easier!&lt;br /&gt;3. An Armada. My dream car right now! Such an upgrade from my 2001 Escape!&lt;br /&gt;4. A new wardrobe. I have some good clothes, a few pieces here and there, but I can totally re-do my wardrobe and be happy.&lt;br /&gt;5. Another digital camera. I have one but I want a better one. Remember - this is about what I WANT!! lol&lt;br /&gt;6. Unlimited flyer miles. I dont have &lt;u&gt;any&lt;/u&gt; so why not go big and want unlimited?&lt;br /&gt;7. A new cell phone. The one I have now kicks ass and I love it but there are better one's out there and why shouldn't I have one?&lt;br /&gt;8. My own domain. I soooo dont need one as I have a happy home on blogger but it would still be nifty right?&lt;br /&gt;this is getting hard.&lt;br /&gt;9. A new husband. God knows I dont NEED another man in my life telling me what to do (lol) but I sure want the one I got lined up. I'll even go far enough to say that I cant wait to take orders from him as a good wife should. (LMAO)&lt;br /&gt;10. A disco. Can you tell that I sooo ran out of ideas by number 10? Can you suggest something better?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114116425854931864?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114116425854931864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114116425854931864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114116425854931864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114116425854931864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/tuesday-meme_28.html' title='Tuesday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114082689461111848</id><published>2006-02-24T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T16:21:34.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All in a weeks work....</title><content type='html'>Happy Friday! I am so glad this week is over! Let me tell you, I never thought I would be happy about my current job situation but right now, I am! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a job! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea you read right! I found a job. I interviewed yesterday and they offered me the position right then and there. Said I came "highly reccommended"! Wow [blush] how cool is that? I didn't even have to sell myself to get the offer. Its at one of our dealerships. One of the biggest in Southern California. I will be distributing email leads from internet sales. I get a raise and..... my own office! yay! How am I more excited about that? lol I put in my two weeks today. I am very excited about this job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that worried me was the commute. I have never had to commute more than 10 minutes to any of my jobs. I used to live across the street from my first job and down the street from my second. This job I am at now is the furthest away. My new job will be about 30-40 minutes with traffic down a freeway that I hate. I would have had to add to that the drive to take my Sunshine to preschool which would have been another 40 minutes added on. One. Way. So I made a command decision. My Sunshine will be getting pulled out of school until he starts kindergarten in August. He will be staying with my Grandma and cousin during the day. She lives on the way to my new job so it really works out. When I asked her last night if she might want to do that, she was so excited. She rarely gets to see him and we dont even live that far away. I'll give her 2 weeks before she starts loosing it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that explains why I had no HNT yesterday, I was busy getting hired! lol &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an excellent night with my Stallion. This wait is killing me! I want my own place right now! I want to predict the end of March... is that too premature? Once I see how much $$$ I'll be bringing in on my own, I can be much more serious about this. My BFF mentioned that her aunt works for a mobile home community and that she might be able to get me a good deal. How does that sound? I wouldn't mind it, really. It's better than the type of apartment I can afford. We'll see. Like I said, once I start seeing how much I will be making each week, I'll be able to plan better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fernando Vargas is boxing this weekend. I'll be tuning in for the eye candy and to see if he gets knocked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats it for today. Everyone have a safe weekend! Dont forget to have some fun! I know I wont!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114082689461111848?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114082689461111848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114082689461111848' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114082689461111848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114082689461111848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/all-in-weeks-work.html' title='All in a weeks work....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114056982247722340</id><published>2006-02-21T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T16:57:02.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.yanowhatimean.com/tuesday/tarchives/002535.php" title="Ten on Tuesday" target="_blank"&gt;Ten on Tuesday&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Favorite Places In Your Hometown&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt; (I'm going to list Wrightwood, CA as my hometown since I ran those streets the most lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Sandwhich Shop - The name escapes me but those sandwhiches and smoothies were the bomb. &lt;br /&gt;2. The candle store - I love Yankee Candles&lt;br /&gt;3. Mountain High - good times up there&lt;br /&gt;4. El Mirage - Not IN Wrightwood but somewhere I hung out alot in high school&lt;br /&gt;5. Jensen's Market - Not a chain store. They had the most awesome fresh peppered turkey and provolone. And I remember the smell of the coffee grinder and how it was in the back corner by the stationary.&lt;br /&gt;6. The Library - They had this cool cat that used to hang out with the librarian. They always had books for me.&lt;br /&gt;7. The Saloon - one word - KARAOKE! And bomb ass pizza.&lt;br /&gt;8. The elementry school - We used to go there at night and swing and play in the sprinklers, or just sit in the field and talk.&lt;br /&gt;9. My house - big time hangout place&lt;br /&gt;10 - The Streets - I say this because we used to walk EVERYWHERE. You could walk into town in about 15 minutes and I will always remember the smell of the pinetrees and the fresh air. I loved those walks. I want to go back so badly. Did you know that the trunk/bark of pine trees smells like a combination of vanilla and bananas? Thats a mountain girl for ya! Tree Sniffer.... ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this talk about Wrightwood makes me want to take a trip up there. I haven't been back in over 5 years. The last time I was up there, I was pregnant. I want to rent a cabin for the weekend. It has to have a fireplace and a private hot tub (outside). I want to take walks into town to eat sandwiches and have smoothies, window shop at all the antique shops. Then I want to go up the mountain a little further and maybe hike and just enjoy the fresh air and the company I am with. [sigh] Maybe someday soon....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114056982247722340?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114056982247722340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114056982247722340' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114056982247722340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114056982247722340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/tuesday-meme.html' title='Tuesday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114048199802581524</id><published>2006-02-20T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T16:33:18.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Meme</title><content type='html'>Hope everyone had a good weekend! I know I had a great Saturday/Very Early Sunday Morning. Maybe if you are lucky, I'll spill the dirty details [wink]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Monday's Meme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/mondaysabitch/" title="Monday's a Bitch" target="_blank"&gt;Monday's a Bitch&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Pride&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you have a problem admitting you're wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wouldn't say so. If I am really wrong about something serious, I'll say so. If its something to joke about, I'll fight to be right but thats just out of fun.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Would you rather watch someone important walk out of your life or beg them to stay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Beg them to stay. Easy one. I have watched too many important people walk out of my life and everytime, I have let them. I dont want that to happen anymore. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Are you the kind of person who would rather try your best and fail, or not try for fear of failure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;That one is a little harder. I would say that now, I would rather try and fail, knowing that I tried my best. If I dont try, I will always say "what if".&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Have you ever expressed interest in someone high above your status, where your chances of being rejected were very high?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;No I always aim low. lol NO! I went after a guy who I thought was more popular than me in high school. I got rejected but not because he was snobby, we were good friends. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If you made a contribution to a charity, would you want credit, or would giving be enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Giving should always be enough. I think that volunteering is important because you can understand that what you are doing or what you are giving, is really helping someone in the long run. Thats enough for me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114048199802581524?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114048199802581524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114048199802581524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114048199802581524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114048199802581524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/monday-meme.html' title='Monday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114029234555306159</id><published>2006-02-18T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T11:52:27.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yea me too...</title><content type='html'>I dont know what Johari means but here is &lt;a href="http://kevan.org/johari?name=MelissaLynn" title="johari" target="_blank"&gt;mine&lt;/a&gt;. Have at it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114029234555306159?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114029234555306159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114029234555306159' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114029234555306159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114029234555306159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/yea-me-too.html' title='Yea me too...'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-114022335090576693</id><published>2006-02-17T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T16:42:30.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Countdown begin....</title><content type='html'>April 28. 50 Working days. In 50 working days, 9 weeks, I will be out of a job. Instead of getting a better position in the company, they are closing my department and moving it to Indiana. Everyone in my department is getting laid off on April 28th. They say that they will be trying to find open positions for all of us before time runs out. It sucks. But whatever's whatever. I may have some potential opportunities in the company or at a dealership that is actually very close to my home. I almost want to wait it out, take the month of May off (unemployment) and then start back into the work force. But who knows what will happen. I was kinda upset yesterday when they announced it but I think we all saw it coming. Closer to April, I will start feeling the pinch if I haven't found another place to work by that time. The only upside is that the environment here in the office is kind of light hearted. Instead of all of us feeling let down by our employer, we are kind of more relaxed, at least thats the atmosphere today. It is Friday so that might be the reason but I think that it will be this way until we are all together packing our desks up. *sigh* On to other things....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://360.yahoo.com" title="Yahoo 360" target="_blank"&gt;Yahoo 360&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard about this? Kinda nifty. Kinda jacking the whole &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com" title="myspace" target="_blank"&gt;myspace&lt;/a&gt; idea. But still kinda cool. I haven't really had a chance to play with it alot yet but I'm sure I will this weekend when I start my job hunting and the re-writing of my resume. I like that my cousin (who moved to Iowa) joined up on it so I can keep seeing pictures of her and the kids. Her idoit husband's blog is NOT enough for me to follow their lives. Plus its a really easy way to share photos which I love. If you haven't already, go check it out. Let me know what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Crazy Kid&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea my child is nuts. He is so obsessed with his PS2. He. is. four! And he can beat me at these games. And I used to be good at video games! ha! He just got the Madagasgar game for Valentine's Day and he has not stopped playing it. Its been too cold to go practice t-ball so he is in the house playing PS2 instead. What a much better alternative, doncha think? I dont know what I am gonna do with that kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Its love?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea it is. I've known that it is. That warm feeling I get in my heart when he calls me 'baby' makes me believe it even more. Knowing that he is willing to wait until I get all my shit together makes me feel good too. Last night as I drove away from him, I wanted nothing more than to be able to be in my own place, in bed with him, watching TV, laughing and being in love with him until we both fell asleep. It helped a little to know that could soon become reality but I wanted it badly last night. Soon enough.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-114022335090576693?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/114022335090576693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=114022335090576693' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114022335090576693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/114022335090576693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/let-countdown-begin.html' title='Let the Countdown begin....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113961472464849395</id><published>2006-02-10T15:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T15:38:44.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>shit.</title><content type='html'>Well a shitty end to a shitty week. I didnt get the job. I had my second interview today and kicked total ass. But my "friend", the only person I confined in when I said that it went well, snuck her application in last week and had another interview right after mine today. I know she got it. There were only 3 of us and the other person did not do as well as I know I did. My "friend", who is my mentor here at work, probably did as well as me but what sold her had to be her position in our office as a lead. Plus the fact that my boss has no problem telling me that my work is exceptional but my attitude sucks, probably had no problem telling the division I was interviewing for, the same thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it rains, it pours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113961472464849395?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113961472464849395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113961472464849395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113961472464849395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113961472464849395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/shit.html' title='shit.'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113960819567196318</id><published>2006-02-10T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T13:49:55.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmmm</title><content type='html'>I'm in a really weird place right now.&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Example: I just sat here for 5 minutes after typing my first sentence and literally found no words to continue this or express my feelings right now&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;This week has been really emotional in the house. Between fighting and discussing our marriage, I am just sick of being there. I hate to allow him to pretend that everything is fine between us when I know that nothing inside of me has changed. He is trying too hard to trap me again, into his life, by making nice and trying to make things go smoothly. But then he just says that one thing or does that one thing that pisses me off so badly that I want to pack a bag and never come back. I know its what I ultimately need to do. It scares me so much. Leaving him behind is not scary. Being an adult, all on my own is whats scary. Admitting that 'I DONT LOVE HIM' right to his face, is scary too. Being that cold is frightening. But thinking about it, its what I need to do. What do I owe him? After all the years he has mistreated me, I dont owe him anything. He thinks that two weeks of a good attitude is going to fix 8 years of pain? I cant let him continue to think that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being alone wont be so bad. I have good friends and good family to turn to. I have my son. I have all my volunteering with the American Cancer Society, as well as the Youth Soccer Org to keep me busy. In the end, I would have myself to turn to. Isn't that all we should expect in the end anyways? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am leaving something out. Someone. The One That Makes My Heart Smile. (yes I busted out the extended version of his name) &lt;br /&gt;I have this problem with myself. When I love someone, I give them all of my love. It scares me to think that they might not know how much I love them. With the relationships I have had, I have noticed a pattern in relation to this. Men get scared away. Why, I'm not sure. I dont think this is exactly the case with him. Maybe my ability to express my love and ultimately, my vulnerability, has given him the idea that I am weak, that I cant stand up for myself in some way. He knows how to hurt me. Already. Why do I allow this to happen? Its all that opening up and giving myself to him. I hope he doesn't hurt me intentionally and I hope that I am just taking this week too much to heart. But it still hurts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to give the impression that he is a bad guy. He is wonderful. Its just this week, I'm telling you! Its this weird place I am in. I dont know how to make it clear to him that all I want is for him to hold me and just &lt;i&gt;be&lt;/i&gt; with me. Nothing physical has to be exchanged. I just want to sit with him, with his arms around me and that would make this week go away. I dont want to think about the fact that he told me he has some girl in one of his classes that likes him (that he also stayed up late talking to one night)(and we all know that those late night talks about nothing are always the best kind). I'm a jealous person. I get sick to my stomach when I think about anyone else enjoying his time or his laugh with the intention of having feelings towards him. PHYSICALLY SICK. But who am I to have room to talk to him about it? How must he feel to know I go home to my husband each night? I would go home to him every night if I could. Hopefully I can soon enough. It just must be frustrating for him to be there right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe thats why he is having  a slight shitty attitude with me this week. Or maybe its just me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded by the calender that this could very well be a case of PMS. Usually its only a day but its stretched from bad to worse as this week has progressed. I can tell that it must be PMS because on the way back to the office from lunch today, a fist full of greasy fries in my hand, I smiled for the first time today because "Baby Got Back" came on the radio. Yea, it must be PMS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113960819567196318?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113960819567196318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113960819567196318' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113960819567196318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113960819567196318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/hmmmm.html' title='hmmmm'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113952037935461387</id><published>2006-02-09T13:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T13:26:19.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HNT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/640/2hnt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/320/2hnt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Really had trouble figuring out what I wanted to do this week. But here it is anyways! Happy HNT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna join in the fun? Check out my sidebar for the HNT link!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' 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/19843291-113952037935461387?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113952037935461387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113952037935461387' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113952037935461387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113952037935461387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/hnt.html' title='HNT'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113933706411723877</id><published>2006-02-07T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T10:31:04.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday and Tuesday Meme</title><content type='html'>I had to include Monday's today since I slacked off and didn't do it yesterday :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/mondaysabitch/" title="Monday's a Bitch" target="_blank"&gt;Monday's a Bitch&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Greed&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Would you ever lead someone on if it was financially beneficial to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Wow thats jacked up! I guess my answer would be no. I see myself in that position right now so the answer is definitely no! My husband is going to school to be in the medical field. Once he succeeds, he will be making fat cash. Right now, the thought of that kind of future security would NOT be enough to keep me in this relationship.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Whats the most expensive thing you own?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Thats hard... cars are always expensive but the car I drive is not in my name so really it belongs to my husband. Most of my stuff is like that. (jacked up, I know) Right now, I cant consider the things we have as mine, just his. Something thats all mine would be my digital camera, I guess.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What's more important, job satisfaction or a fat paycheck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A fat paycheck is definitely helpful! Its the money that keeps me where I am now. But if I had the opportunity to make more in a better place, I would. I cant see myself staying in a place where I am not satisfied.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How much money would it take for you to whore yourself out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Some where in the high hundreds of thousands to millions. I have a lot of self worth but I have to say there is a price for everything, except of course true love. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Would you be morally opposed to stealing something if you knew you could?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If I knew 100% that I could get away with it, why not? Well I guess it does depend on what it is and who I would be directly damaging by stealing that item. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yanowhatimean.com/tuesday/tarchives/002517.php" target=_blank&gt;Ten On Tuesday&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;10 Favorite Childhood Fairytales&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cinderella&lt;br /&gt;2. There used to be these stories about a toad. I dont remember alot of the details but those books were some of my favorites. If anyone can remember, let me know.&lt;br /&gt;3. Where the Wild Things Are&lt;br /&gt;4. The Princess and the Pea (greedy little girl!)&lt;br /&gt;5. The Fox and the Hound&lt;br /&gt;6. The Three Little Pigs&lt;br /&gt;7. Red Riding Hood&lt;br /&gt;8. Hansel and Gretel&lt;br /&gt;9. Beauty and the Beast&lt;br /&gt;10. Sleeping Beauty&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113933706411723877?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113933706411723877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113933706411723877' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113933706411723877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113933706411723877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/monday-and-tuesday-meme.html' title='Monday and Tuesday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113900163016966524</id><published>2006-02-03T13:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T13:20:30.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerves....</title><content type='html'>I have an interview today for another position within the company. This might mean no more talking to customers! I found out about the interview TODAY while wearing my 'casual' Friday Dodgers t-shirt. Hauling ASS to Target for a new shirt and coming back late from lunch BETTER be worth it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113900163016966524?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113900163016966524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113900163016966524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113900163016966524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113900163016966524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/nerves.html' title='Nerves....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113893670743787797</id><published>2006-02-02T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T19:18:27.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Stars?</title><content type='html'>Daily Horoscope says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now officially time to get over yourself. Stop dwelling on the past. It's gone, and it won't be back. Put some distance between you and whomever or whatever makes you even the slightest bit unhappy. Come on. Let go and let the universe drive. Who knows where you'll end up? Regardless of where that happens to be, it's got to be better than sitting in front of the television. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This right after I told the Coach that I'm pretty sure our marriage is over. Incecent begging to reconsider followed. Now I am just tired. And wishing I was somewhere else, ANYWHERE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113893670743787797?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113893670743787797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113893670743787797' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113893670743787797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113893670743787797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/in-stars.html' title='In the Stars?'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113891431211737406</id><published>2006-02-02T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T13:05:12.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Meme</title><content type='html'>OK I saw this one on two of my favorite blogs &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com" title="Dooce" target="_blank"&gt;Dooce&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.ninakaye.com" title="NinaKaye" target="_blank"&gt;NinaKaye&lt;/a&gt; so I thought that was blogging karma telling me to do it! Here it is.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four jobs I've had&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Target cashier and return desk&lt;br /&gt;2. Robinson's May Ladies Suits and Dress department&lt;br /&gt;3. Lancome&lt;br /&gt;4. Customer service rep for previously mentioned huge RV Company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four movies I can watch over and over&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Chasing Amy&lt;br /&gt;2. White Chicks&lt;br /&gt;3. Harry Potter movies&lt;br /&gt;4. Empire Records&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four places I have lived&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. El Monte, CA&lt;br /&gt;2. Wrightwood, CA&lt;br /&gt;3. Temecula, CA&lt;br /&gt;4. Monrovia, CA &lt;br /&gt;(I dont get out of California enough!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four TV shows I love&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. One Tree Hill&lt;br /&gt;2. Scrubs&lt;br /&gt;3. Friends&lt;br /&gt;4. CSI (the original of course!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four places I have vacationed&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Bahamas&lt;br /&gt;2. Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;3. Florida Keys&lt;br /&gt;4. Washington D.C. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four of my favorite dishes&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Carne Asada Nachos&lt;br /&gt;2. Fried Chicken with mashed potatos and corn&lt;br /&gt;3. Lasagna&lt;br /&gt;4. chicken burritos with rice and beans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four sites I visit daily&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com" title="Dooce" target="_blank"&gt;Dooce&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com" title="MySpace" target="_blank"&gt;MySpace&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://www.ninakaye.com" title="NinaKaye" target="_blank"&gt;NinaKaye&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;a href="http://www.paulnlaura.com/mommy/" title="LaLaGirl" target="_blank"&gt;LaLaGirl&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Four places I would rather be right now&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. In bed (well really anywhere) with my Stallion&lt;br /&gt;2. At the park with my Sunshine&lt;br /&gt;3. On a beach&lt;br /&gt;4. Driving home from work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you read this, I tagged you :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113891431211737406?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113891431211737406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113891431211737406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113891431211737406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113891431211737406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/four-meme.html' title='Four Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113889322169648291</id><published>2006-02-02T07:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T07:13:41.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st HNT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/640/1hnt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4551/1972/320/1hnt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  First HNT!! I just have to say that I LOVE my camera phone, it makes this so much easier!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' 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/19843291-113889322169648291?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113889322169648291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113889322169648291' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113889322169648291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113889322169648291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/1st-hnt.html' title='1st HNT'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113883366931468767</id><published>2006-02-01T14:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T14:41:09.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Fun</title><content type='html'>Got this one from &lt;a href="http://www.simplekindoflife.com/" title="Simple Kind Of Life" target="_blank"&gt;Simple Kind of Life&lt;/a&gt; and since I have no meme for Wednesday, I thought I would do it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What were you doing 10 years ago?&lt;br /&gt;Gah, 10 years ago I wasn't even in high school! I was finishing up 8th grade and probably chasing boys! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What were you doing 1 year ago?&lt;br /&gt;Last year around this time I was a lot less happy but trying to get through each day as best I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five snacks you enjoy (in no particular order, as all snacks are created equal):&lt;br /&gt;1. Potato Chips with my cheese and sour cream dip&lt;br /&gt;2. ice cream&lt;br /&gt;3. doritos with ranch&lt;br /&gt;4. honey sesame sticks&lt;br /&gt;5. candy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five Songs to which you KNOW all the lyrics: (just 5??)&lt;br /&gt;1. Always by Blink 182&lt;br /&gt;2. Ex-Factor - Lauryn Hill&lt;br /&gt;3. Stickwity - Pussycat Dolls&lt;br /&gt;4. Only One - Yellowcard&lt;br /&gt;5. These Words - Natasha Bettingfield &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:&lt;br /&gt;1. Buy a house&lt;br /&gt;2. Get a divorce&lt;br /&gt;3. Get married again lol&lt;br /&gt;4. Get my Armada&lt;br /&gt;5. SHOP &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five Bad Habits:&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strike&gt;biting my nails&lt;/strike&gt; NOT ANYMORE!&lt;br /&gt;2. procrastination&lt;br /&gt;3. wasting time at work (doing things like this lol)&lt;br /&gt;4. not drinking enough water&lt;br /&gt;5. letting my car be messy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things you like doing:&lt;br /&gt;1. Being with my Sunshine and My Stallion&lt;br /&gt;2. Drinking Thursdays &lt;br /&gt;3. reading blogs&lt;br /&gt;4. singing/listening to music&lt;br /&gt;5. reading&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things you would never wear, buy, or get again:&lt;br /&gt;1. spandex&lt;br /&gt;2. expired cheese (always check your dates on the bags!! bleh)&lt;br /&gt;3. a hickey on my neck&lt;br /&gt;4. a job in retail&lt;br /&gt;5. a credit card&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five favorite toys:&lt;br /&gt;1. My digital camera&lt;br /&gt;2. My phone&lt;br /&gt;3. My car&lt;br /&gt;4. My computer&lt;br /&gt;5. My Vibrator (haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113883366931468767?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113883366931468767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113883366931468767' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113883366931468767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113883366931468767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/little-fun.html' title='A Little Fun'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113882371175749422</id><published>2006-02-01T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T11:55:11.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>Everyday I am amazed at the things My Sunshine comes up with. He is so smart and already knows what he wants in his little world. Every day recently he has been putting together more sentences and complete thoughts and ideas and it reminds me how far he has come. In his soon to be 5 years in this world, he has changed my life so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning on the way to school, he found the left over King's hat from the hockey game we went to this past weekend. He decided, just like a typical male would, to wear it. I watched him in my rear view mirror as he picked it up off the seat, fixed the back of it to fit him, and I thought to myself, "He is going to put it on and wear it to school." Sure enough, he thought about it for a second and put that hat right on his head and just sat back and relaxed. He didn't say anything to me during this process, just decided all on his own that today, he was going to wear this cool hat he got over the weekend. Ms. Sharon approved when we walked into class saying, "Wow, I really like your hat today!" My Sunshine was validated and proud of his decision, right then and there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How cool is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113882371175749422?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113882371175749422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113882371175749422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113882371175749422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113882371175749422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/02/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113873060987855517</id><published>2006-01-31T10:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T10:03:31.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.yanowhatimean.com/tuesday/tarchives/002510.php" target=_blank&gt;Ten On Tuesday&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;10 Favorite Articles of Clothing&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. my sexy jeans&lt;br /&gt;2. my scarves&lt;br /&gt;3. my grey half tie shirt&lt;br /&gt;4. sandles&lt;br /&gt;5. sweatshirts&lt;br /&gt;6. lingerie&lt;br /&gt;7. warm socks&lt;br /&gt;8. pj pants&lt;br /&gt;9. skirts&lt;br /&gt;10. tank tops&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113873060987855517?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113873060987855517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113873060987855517' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113873060987855517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113873060987855517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/tuesday-meme.html' title='Tuesday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113868342888370097</id><published>2006-01-30T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T20:57:08.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/mondaysabitch/" title="Monday's a Bitch" target="_blank"&gt;Monday's a Bitch&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. In your opinion, what separates a healthy sexual appetite from being a slut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I think that knowing your partners and their last names is important.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Would you date a really nice, attractive, person with herpes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I dont think so. I would be too concerned about my health. Selfish? To each his own.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Have you ever experienced coyote ugly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;um no?? lol&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Whats the lowest youve stooped to get the object of your desire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I dont like to share. So I tend to be really bitch towards other women I think might be a threat to me and the person I care about. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Who do your loins burn for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Thats EASY. My Stallion&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113868342888370097?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113868342888370097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113868342888370097' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113868342888370097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113868342888370097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/monday-meme.html' title='Monday Meme'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113866884593409509</id><published>2006-01-30T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T16:54:08.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the difference</title><content type='html'>[&lt;i&gt;Some days, I cant wait for you to wake up in the morning. I feel anxious, there is so much anticipation inside me, just waiting to see you smile at me. I cant remember a time when I felt that way about him. &lt;br /&gt;That sweet look in your eyes right after you have woken up makes me feel good inside. I just want to take you in my arms and squeeze the last bits of sleep from your eyes. I want to wake up next to you every morning, just to see that look.&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its amazing to me how much difference there is between the Coach and my Stallion. Of course that must be a huge part of the reason my life is what it is right now, the difference between them. I just really noticed a huge difference in them this weekend. What helped me to see this was the drastic change in my mood when being with the two of them individually. One minute I am loving life and the next, I am dreading every minute that passes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really on the edge of this marriage. I look at it from the outside, like a stranger. I feel no positive emotional connection to this man who I have been with for so long. Saturday night was a huge turning point for me, mentally and I am finally feeling like I could be free soon. I cannot keep allowing him to get away with the things that he does to me. I have done it for so long and been there for him for so long, and I have nothing to show. The only good thing he has ever given me is my son and he only contributed to half of that miracle. I feel empty and dead when I am with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about the drastic mood swing, when I am with my Stallion, I could not feel more alive. I spent all day Friday with him. Spontaneously I decided to take the day off from work and it was worth every penny I did not earn that day. I have never laughed so hard or cared less about what was going on outside my bedroom door. Every feeling came so easy to us. It has always been one of my fantasies to spend the day in bed with someone I love and I did that on Friday. I plan on doing it again and again. Neither of us cared about wasting the whole day because really, it wasn't a waste. We did the one thing we both wanted to do with the day. That night, we stayed up talking as long as our bodies would allow us to. There is so much to be learned about the person I fell in love with, and I wish there would be more time so that I could learn it all quickly. He always talks about freezing time for us, just so that we can be together at that moment for as long as we want. On Friday night, time stood still for us, even if it was only for a little while. We talk about our future and even though that's so premature, its so much fun. I know that my future home will &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; have white walls or clutter. That was decided upon. We didn't decide this, but I know that my future home will also be full of love. Its been a long time since I have looked forward to my future and right now, I cant wait for it to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;i&gt;I do believe its true, there are roads left in both of our shoes. If the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me too.&lt;br /&gt;So Brown Eyes, I hold you near, because you are the only song I want to hear. A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere.&lt;br /&gt;Where Soul Meets Body&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113866884593409509?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113866884593409509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113866884593409509' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113866884593409509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113866884593409509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/difference.html' title='the difference'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113805238105622950</id><published>2006-01-23T13:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T13:39:41.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Good Day</title><content type='html'>I have a good hangover today. Hard to believe that I can classify a hangover as being good, but this one is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one of the best days yesterday. Its amazing that such simple things as being in the arms of the person you love, can make your day so wonderful. My lips are still swollen from the kisses and my arms feel empty. But I do know that they will be filled again soon, and the thought of that is great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113805238105622950?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113805238105622950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113805238105622950' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113805238105622950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113805238105622950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-good-day.html' title='It&apos;s a Good Day'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113754269641642867</id><published>2006-01-17T16:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T16:04:56.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Customer Gripe of the Day</title><content type='html'>Wanna know something that bothers me? Grown people who are stupid. I know, this is such a broad range of people, but these people in this particular group really get to me. I never talk much about who I am outside these insane thoughts in my head, and really, what would be the point since this is my blog and I can write whatever I want? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I work one of the most thankless, horrid jobs in the country, but they pay me good so that quiets my screams while walking into this building 5 days a week for 8 and a half hours a day. I am a customer service slave. I have worked customer service for 5 years. It's not retail anymore which was 1000 times worse and also face to face which runs the threat of being spit on while being yelled at. Its all over the phone with my trusty MUTE button to mute my sarcastic remarks that fill my previously mentioned smart ass mouth every 10 minutes of the day, type of customer service. For the most thankless and horrid jobs, this is the best kind. Add to it the discomfort of doing customer service for a LARGE RV manufacturer, and here I am. 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who own RV's are great. My parents have had one since I was a kid. I spent countless summers in their motor home traveling all over the great USA. I haven't hit every state, but we got the majority of the Southern states, plus up and down the East and West coast, out of the way. Best times of my life. I cannot wait to find someone who will be willing to travel this country with me again. I cannot wait to be able to get my own RV but let me tell you something, all this RV customer service is teaching me not only more information about motor homes than any human should know, but also enough to learn which kind to buy and definitely which kind NOT to buy. That being said.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some motor home owners are grown people who are stupid. Wow - they fall into the category of "things that bother me", wouldn't you know it? We get every letter that is written in complaint and in compliment of our company, right here to this office. We are the only department that handles customers in this multi-million dollar corporation. Here is my Customer Gripe of the Day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you think that if, in the year 2006, you were composing a letter to the president of the company that manufactures your motor home, requesting that he buy back your supposed "lemon", that you would at least spell check said letter? Or at least take notice of the red squiggly line that your Microsoft word document has to be showing you, right click, and fix the spelling of a STATE? You don't even have to think what the correct spelling of this states is! The computer will do all that hard thinking for you! This will maybe, but most likely not, get your letter taken seriously! Please!! Please spare me the enjoyment of laughing at your letter and writing about you in my blog! If I was the CEO of this company, I would have laughed at the letter and given it to my minions to respond to and file. All because you are too lazy to spell check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI: This post was indeed, NOT spell checked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113754269641642867?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113754269641642867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113754269641642867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113754269641642867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113754269641642867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/customer-gripe-of-day.html' title='Customer Gripe of the Day'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113745446559860140</id><published>2006-01-16T15:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T15:34:25.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fetishes and Pregnancy (In an unrelated sense...)</title><content type='html'>To call an obsession a fetish is completely healthy. To determine what makes someone obsessed over something, not so easy. To figure out if your lover's obsession with your feet is a fetish, well thats just plain, old fashioned fun. As long as you too are a freak, in the best sense of the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have a big problem with my feet. Wait, make that the lower half of my body. My legs were too long and skinny and my feet were WAY too big. Now, 23 years into my life, neither of these two things are quite so bad. Even being married to the man who has &lt;u&gt;no&lt;/u&gt; ability to give compliments to anyone but himself and annonymous big breasted women and super skinny girls who look no older than 14, I was able to come to terms with my insecurities and actually start to love these two (previously) rediculously awkward features of mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And wouldn't you know it? I found someone else who does too! And let me tell you a secret. [&lt;i&gt;when you find that, its an incredible turn on&lt;/i&gt;] There is nothing better than laying on the couch while that someone pulls off your socks and proceeds to rub your soft "feets" and then actually enjoys it. And reminds you that they enjoy it and also that above referenced "feets" are so soft and wow! they smell really good too. A thousand thanks to Foot Works and lavender foot lotion and whoever was smart enough to realize that some women take pride in their feet, smart enough to market products specifically designed for these women (and the men who have these fetishes). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[small update: &lt;i&gt;Getting a phone call in the middle of writing this post, and hearing The Stallion tell me that he has been thinking of my legs all day, also an incredible turn on. Its hard to return to work having to resist the urge to rush home and wrap said legs around said guy.&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are people out there who actually think that feet are gross and are absolutely disgusted with the thought of someone else actually touching your feet. These people have not lived. Get off your chair, call your local salon, and sign yourself up for a pedicure ASAP. Overcome your fears with the bliss of the bubbly foot massage thingy that feels oh so good. &lt;i&gt;My feet are screaming at me as I type this because its been much too long since I have had a pedicure.&lt;/i&gt; You never know, your significant other, or future significant other may just have that foot fetish and you should not in any way, shape, or form, withold their urges to touch your feet. You'll thank me later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the pregnancy portion of this post. I am about to vent about something that some people may not agree with, but honestly, I dont give a rip if you agree or not. Its my blog, you dont like it, go away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pregnant women should eat. I think most can agree there. The one luxury we have as women when we are pregnant, is the ability to eat anything we want, whenever we want. Its the pure adulteration that comes with being able to splurge on that large fry instead of your usual small, because you are eating for two and that is perfectly justifiable when you explain it  to the 15 year old that is looking at you like you are a walking pig at the local McDonalds. He has never been pregnant, will never be, but will understand soon enough, when his future wife is that pig. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, just this morning, the pregnant girl of the week at work was standing next to the token divorcee who jumped a foot when her belly involuntarily growled at him. Some might think it was because said pregnant girl is now the token pregnant and single girl and her unborn child is growling at a man who could be her daddy (but in reality is not. Unborn baby is just pissed that her real daddy is skipping out on her mommy, already starting the "I hate men" mantra that will get her through high school and the majority of her adult life). Back to the issue at hand, I tell token divorcee that the baby is just hungry and for pregnant girl to feed her unborn child. I'm then basically told that her baby does not eat when it wants to, but when she wants to feed it. Its about 10 in the morning and I learn that the baby has not eaten all day, that mommy to be wakes up hungry but does not eat until later, at her break time. Your unborn child is screaming for food in the womb, and you are too selfish to feed him/her. You dont want your wasteline to expand any more than necessary in the next 7 months, so you starve your fetus? &lt;i&gt;Selfish, Selfish, SELFISH BITCH&lt;/i&gt;. Then she tells me, because I know she can see my smart ass remark just forming in my smart ass mouth, that this is perfectly healthy. &lt;i&gt;WHATEVER SELFISH&lt;/i&gt;!!! If you hear about a crazy woman stuffing cookies down the throat of her co-worker, all the while screaming that you were doing it for the sake of her baby, remember what you just read. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who am I to tell pregnant girl how to nurture her unborn child?? If the baby is born small, believe me, that will be the least of this kids worries, being born to the mother it is being born to. I'll just be sure to annonymously mail the kid cake and Dr. Phil books every month for the first 10 years of his or her life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113745446559860140?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113745446559860140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113745446559860140' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113745446559860140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113745446559860140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/fetishes-and-pregnancy-in-unrelated.html' title='Fetishes and Pregnancy (In an unrelated sense...)'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113710997330448810</id><published>2006-01-12T15:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T15:52:53.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brad Pitt's baby</title><content type='html'>I am a dreamer. Not in the daydreaming sense of the word, but in the literal sense. I dream almost every night and 9 out of 10 days, I can still remember that dream past my morning latte. Last night was no exception, with the one exception that its now 3:30 in the afternoon and after my latte, my turkey sandwhich, my cherry coke, and 17 total calls from pissed off motor home owners, I can still remember the smallest details of my dream last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how they say it takes at least an hour to reach the REM (which I always believed to be a band) stage before you actually dream? I dont think this is true. They also say that your dreams only last a matter of minutes total. I dont think this is true either. I mean, really, how can these researchers really determine that? You cant crawl into someone's head and click your stopwatch at the start of your dream, as well as at the end. I think that's impossible. My dreams last hours if I'm lucky enough to be caught in a good one. Last night's was pretty fine indeed. Well if I think about it, it wasn't a good feeling story, but I am catagorizing it as good because Bratt Pitt was in it. &lt;br /&gt;[&lt;i&gt;We are NOT talking about dirty Angelina pleasing, Jennifer heartbreaking, mess he has become. My Brad was cleaner. &lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I was walking with someone down a road, and we were passing a yoga place. People were doing the most elaborate yoga positions and my partner [unamed and no face or recollection of WHO this person was] starts complaining about how those yoga people can bend like that. So then we see this hottie who looks just like Sophia Bush being yelled at by the instructor. Transport me into her body. I'm lookin good as Sophia Bush. Score! Ok so now I am getting yelled at. Not good. Anyways, my instructor tells me that I have to go cash 3 checks. One is for a huge amount of money because its for someone else's very expensive perscription. For what drug, I dont know, so dont ask. The other two are funds for this instructor. Why she is sending me as Sophia Bush, I do not know. All I know is I feel really pissed off that this bendy yoga bitch is yelling at me. So I leave the yoga place and I start towards this busy street. Me as Sophia looks down, and wow! Look how pregnant I am. And facing a very busy street to cross. The pregnant crazy me as Sophia thinks that it is awfully rude of these people &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; to stop for the very sexy and very pregnant Sophia. So I start dodging cars and somehow, end up across the street. I guess I know where I am going and end up in a mall, that happens to have the branch of bank I need. Well I never get to the bank. I blow the first two checks on clothes in typical Sophia Bush as Brooke would do. And I am a hot pregnant woman after this. More hot than before. So then I end up in some place, which is indescribable, and here I am with my husband who just so happens to be Brad, whom I can only land thinking I am Sophia Bush. My dream self esteem is so high, can you tell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, he is talking about going to Vegas for 5 hours with his friends. At this point, I think we are in Tahoe. So you can see the demographic delema of the space between Tahoe and Vegas. Anyways, my pregnant self gets very angry at how selfish this is and I &lt;strike&gt;run&lt;/strike&gt; waddle to the bathroom. He follows me and for whatever reason, on the wall, I can see myself and shaved head Brad fooling around, like an old movie. I point and say "See! See what we were doing here LAST year at this time. And now you want to leave me to go to Vegas." So I guess we fooled around last year in that Tahoe bathroom. Too bad I didn't dream THAT part. Then I am worrying about the expensive prescription check I didnt cash because now the bank is closed. Then I left Brad behind and went to another party, not pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does that mean? Anyone? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think so...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113710997330448810?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113710997330448810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113710997330448810' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113710997330448810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113710997330448810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/brad-pitts-baby.html' title='Brad Pitt&apos;s baby'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113702402283117073</id><published>2006-01-11T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T16:00:22.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Inadequacy</title><content type='html'>Do you ever have days when you feel that every thing you do is just not good enough? Sometimes I think that all my good intentions will never be enough. Today, I am not good enough. For anything or anyone. For whatever reason, today I am not enough. &lt;br /&gt;Everything in my life right now is spiralling out of control. In reality, things are very grounded with no intention of going down hill. Along with waiting for the other shoe to drop every second of the day, I think the spiralling is all in my head. That scares me more. My existance is so fragile, my world is going to break any second. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Here I go, scream my lungs out. Try to get to you&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this huge fear that I am building up this alternative life for myself and for my future. For a long time, I could clearly see my path laid in front of me. It was pretty dull. Now, I have this fork in my road. I am so scared to take it. 99% of me thinks it would be the best decision I could ever make for myself. 1% thinks it would be stupid. That 1 itty bitty percent, owns me. That 1% scares the hell out of me. For one, I want everything this new path has to offer. The love, the laughter, the thought in my head that it can only get better from here. Then I have to think about the other person, the person who could give me all of those things that I so desperatly need and have not had for the past 5 years of my life. This person, this part of me, has so much to offer this life. He has his whole future ahead of him, open to make choices now that will shape the rest of his life. I know we dont always make the right choices but I think he just might be wise enough to make the right choices for himself. It scares me to death that because he knows and loves me, that love alone willl limit those choices and take so many of them away from him. Could you live with yourself if you knew you had that capability?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if things ended up the way I wish they could, they would not be easy. They would be so hard. Even if we got through the hard time we face, if we do choose to pursue this life, another thing that scares me is that even after all that, I will let him down. There will come a time when he looks at me and says "you aren't enough" and he will think of me as the biggest mistake of his life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life right now, as I type this, is just that. My husband sees me, and knows he made a mistake. However he is too big a wimp to admit that to himself. Our lives have progressed in such a way that this realization made has no emotional effect on me. With everything in our marriage, I need to give him time to realize this himself. He says it to me, he just cant cope with the fact that he actually means it. It scares HIM to think of his life without me, even with every way that I hinder him and make his life miserable, as he so loves to remind me. He loves the comfort of me but hates the way he believes I restrict his intentions of the way his life should be. Eventually he will realize that we would be such better people without each other but if I forced that out of him right now, it would be messy and destructive for both of us and our son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont let his feelings towards me upset me. I went through that phase and it has passed. I dont let it upset me that he is more than likely cheating on me. At this point, if it makes him happy, then go on with it. Does that make part of me dead inside because I cant cry for almost 10 years of my life wasted? He has changed my life and made me a lesser person. I have just started gaining myself back, because of that other person. And as hard as my husband tries day in and day out, I will not let him take that away from me again. I just wish that we can go our seperate ways easily, without complication. But my husband lives each day to make my life complicated. It is the reason he gets out of bed each day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is torn in half today. It will be that way tomorrow too. One half of me is stuck in this rut, waiting for a gown man to realize that he can live his own life, all on his own. The other half of me is in love. In love and living in this fantasy that there is someone out there that loves me. That looks at me and sees beauty and love. I dont feel worthy of his feelings, I dont feel like I am enough for them. He has all those emotions inside of him, he can give them to me so easily, but I feel like I am wasting his time and wasting his heart. I am scared to break him in such a way that he becomes bitter. He is too beautiful to be that and I am terrified that I will make him that. I am ashamed to feel that giving myself to him will not be enough when all is said and done. I am scared that he will expect more from me, when I wont be able to give him anything else or to meet his expectations. I will not be enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;i&gt;I'm so sorry that I won't be enough for you&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113702402283117073?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113702402283117073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113702402283117073' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113702402283117073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113702402283117073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/inadequacy.html' title='Inadequacy'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113685468443300634</id><published>2006-01-09T16:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T16:58:07.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did Someone Say Happy New Year?</title><content type='html'>It's 2006. It's 9 days into 2006. Already. Where the hell did 9 days go? It seems like just last night I was throwing up Vodka. Ok in reality, that part of the night was a blur. New Years did not go as planned but the first day of the year was frighteningly perfect. Ok, squirming around on a twin size bed on top of a Dollz comforter wasn't exactly romantic, but my friend texting "You have 5 minutes!" certainly added to the atmosphere. I felt like a naughty teenager again. [&lt;i&gt;Remember "naughty teenager" for later role playing&lt;/i&gt;] In light of my recent love life, I don't think I was blessed with that whole "getting caught being exciting" feeling. Getting caught would suck right now. Now having sex without worrying about whether or not the door is locked is a dream I hope to make a reality sometime this year. Add that to my list of resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I did make one this year. I never do. I dont see the point because I never keep them. Ever. Not one. But this year's is to get back in shape. Yes, I am skinny. Not Paris Hilton Skinny but old Lindsay Lohan skinny without the fat legs, before she starved herself into skeleton form. I dont need to loose weight. I just need to tone. Don't you love that word? Tone. It sounds so stupid. I guess with a musical background and not a physical background, it just sounds funny to me when used to refer to my body. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am new to this whole independent blogging thing, can someone explain to me what a blogroll is? It sounds like a secret club but I am beginning to think it isn't. I don't want to add my own blogroll of blogs that I love to check into, only to find out that I am breaking some secret rule of blogging. How scary to be extradited for doing something you don't know you are doing. Especially in the high pressure world of personal blogs. So what. Can I just start linking blogs that I love to check out under the appropriate "my blogroll" heading? Or do I have to ask permission from the blog gods first? Someone spare me the humiliation and let me in on the secret. Your karma points will skyrocket, I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113685468443300634?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113685468443300634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113685468443300634' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113685468443300634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113685468443300634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2006/01/did-someone-say-happy-new-year.html' title='Did Someone Say Happy New Year?'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113601368953689033</id><published>2005-12-30T23:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T23:21:29.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipation...</title><content type='html'>I want to go to bed RIGHT NOW so that tomorrow will come faster. You have no idea how happy tomorrow is going to be for me... Too many people are here tonight for me to crash. But tomorrow is bound to come sooner or later and I cant wait....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113601368953689033?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113601368953689033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113601368953689033' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113601368953689033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113601368953689033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/anticipation.html' title='Anticipation...'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113596740083040674</id><published>2005-12-30T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T11:39:00.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zodiac can be fun!</title><content type='html'>I love reading horoscopes. Could it be a guily pleasure? Most people think its silly but its fun to read. Some people believe that the predictions and traits mentioned in the horoscopes are really broad and can appeal to most people. I tend to lean in a different direction, but thats just because all of the things written about my sign are generally true. So you can see how I get caught up in the predictions and expected attitudes and feelings from these horoscopes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note.... I present the Cosmopolitan Bedside Astrologer for 2006. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you couldn't tell, I am a pisces. Water sign, romantic, all the generalizations for a pisces fits right to me.&lt;br /&gt;Check this out....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Why you Blow Guy's Minds In Bed&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Your near-psychic abilities let you pinpoint the passion position he's craving.&lt;br /&gt;~You vocalize your emotions, so you can't help cooing to your man about how amazing you feel in his arms.&lt;br /&gt;~Your imagination is the wildest in the zodiac, providing a never-ending source of frisky fantasies to act upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sex predictions are my favorites. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also favor checking into my favorite guy's zodiac sign too. Guilty pleasure #2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Stallion just happens to be a Gemini. I have never been with a Gemini. Let me tell you, they are freaks. I knew this before even opening up this magazine. Check THIS out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;What Makes a Gemini Man So Sexy&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~He's eager to make any fantasy you can think up (tame or torrid) come true.&lt;br /&gt;~His stellar oral skills - talk about BLISS - will make you moan for more, and wonder how he got so good.&lt;br /&gt;~He's loaded with energy, and that means he's always ready to get randy - anytime, anyplace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I have seen and *ahem* felt so far, these are all true. This bedside astrologer also gives tips on "how to win his heart"&lt;br /&gt;For my Gemini.... I can.... "&lt;i&gt;Impress him with your brains as well as beauty. A chick who reads the paper and can talk intelligently about current events gets him hooked. If you manage to snag a reservation at the trendiest new resturaunt, you'll rush to the top of this scenester's list."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Ok hold on. Yes he does find me to be very cute when wearing my glasses but we dont shop talk current events that often if ever. And secondly, I would never call my Gemini a "scenester". If I can get dinner from McDonald's one night of the week, and make spagetti another,  I can make my man eternally happy. And that makes me happy. So much of the happy going around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last thing from this ever so handy Astrology guide is "Your Hottest Love Matches". For those who have never checked into your Year Round Astrology Calender, you dont know what this is. It basically a Pisces+Gemini= "whatever the forecast predicts".&lt;br /&gt;Here it is.... Pisces+Gemini 2006&lt;br /&gt;He cracks you up, and his masterful bedroom maneuvers wipe you out. (THATS TRUE LMAO) But you're never positive where you stand. (how ominous!)&lt;br /&gt;We got 2 roses in the Love catagory which means that "There's potential" and 3 flames in the Sex catagory which means that we are a "red hot duo". *hands over mouth* hehehehe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little side note, this thing predicts Ryan Gosling *swoon* as my ultimate sex match because he is a scorpio (who are killers in bed) and guess who they paired me with as my ultimate love match? He's a capricorn. He's my secret fantasy sexy hot boy. You know who it is.... ORLANDO BLOOM. I would D.I.E. But that was just totally unrelated to my previous train of thought. Orlando sometimes does that to me.... &lt;br /&gt;There last bit of crucial information that they had to share with me was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Your Essential Element: Water&lt;/u&gt; (Duh) Though intuitive, your dreaminess leaves you foggy-headed when it comes to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;So You Need:&lt;/u&gt; A sensual guy who will keep you grounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I like that foggy-headed feeling?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113596740083040674?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113596740083040674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113596740083040674' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113596740083040674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113596740083040674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/zodiac-can-be-fun.html' title='Zodiac can be fun!'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113578532168397210</id><published>2005-12-28T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T18:30:49.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hellidays</title><content type='html'>All I can say is thank goodness Christmas is O.V.E.R. I completely lacked Christmas spirit this year. I don't know what it was this year. Usually I am filled with joy and goodness and all around warmth (go ahead and throw up now) but this year, I just kept hoping it would end quickly and painlessly. Don't get me wrong, I love the presents I got. I love the family I got to spend time with. There was just something missing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing missing was The Coach on Christmas Eve. He chose to stay home with his friend and play video games instead of going to my mom's. Could it have something to do with the fact that I busted him sweet talking some chick under My Sunshine's loft bed the night before? I really can't blame him. Wait, never mind. Its ok for me but not for him. I won't go into the things I do in our house in comparison because its probably not as bad but he still got busted. I'm at least smart enough NOT to get caught. Anyways, he was supposed to be kissing my ass but still insisted on staying home. Christmas Eve was bunk anyways. It was just me, my parents, my son and my grandma there. Usually the house is full and this year, it just wasn't the same. I missed my cousins and their kids. I did not miss The Coach messing things up. &lt;br /&gt;Christmas day was another story. There was no good food but there was good family. I hate that I dont get to spend more time with mine and most of the day with his. But I do love the two purses my M.I.L. got for me. Greedy much? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about Christmas. I really hope I have the spirit next year, I think it was the last thing missing this year. Now New Years. That is another story. Every year the Coach and I have a party. This year, yours truely is flying solo. Well.... not exactly solo. Tucking in for 2006, I will be with The Stallion. There is no one in my life right now that I would rather be with. My Sunshine is with my mom this week and it feels good to relax. Especially with The Stallion. When a man almost cries because you tell him that the thing you are looking forward to the most on New Years Eve/Morning is waking up next to him, that can make a girl feel good. When he tells you that he will be there for you no matter what happens, that can make a girl feel good too. I dont know what is going to happen in a week, a month, and in 2006, but for now.... Everything feels pretty damn good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113578532168397210?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113578532168397210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113578532168397210' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113578532168397210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113578532168397210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/hellidays.html' title='Hellidays'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113520185498363935</id><published>2005-12-21T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T13:50:54.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PMS much among other things...</title><content type='html'>OK I &lt;strike&gt;have&lt;/strike&gt; had a bad case of PMS. Yesterday was the worse. I did not want to be around anyone. I didn't want anyone to talk to me, touch me, or even look at me. I was a raging bitch who had to result in falling asleep just so people would leave her alone. How brutal is that? My Sunshine touched my face to wake me up and I wanted to throttle him. I'm a bad mom when I PMS. Today I felt much better and had no problem snuggling with My Sunshine or with The One Who Makes My Heart Smile. So it was a good morning. We'll see if my temperment changes when I get home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the weirdest dream last night. I dont know if it was an offset from the PMS or what but it was weird. But also good. I dreamt that I was somewhere with people I went to high school with. We were talking about a car that was shaped like a hamburger (lol I know it makes no sense and its totally unrelated to my dream) and my ex &lt;strike&gt;love of my life&lt;/strike&gt; complained because he never saw the hamburger car and the reason being was that he was in love with me the whole time we were in high school. Anyways, we end up at some house where we got FREAKY. We were doing weird stuff to each other but in a good freaky way lol. So The One Who Makes My Heart Smile kept walking in and trying to see what we were doing. It was just WEIRD for the two of them to be in the same dream.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to something totally not PMS related....&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hear so much about this &lt;a href="http://www.blingo.com/friends?ref=kfg9R_7Y6KudxSonLmDTCSgKW0M" title="Blingo" target="_blank"&gt;Blingo&lt;/a&gt; website, that I just had to mention it here. Everyone keeps winning stuff off it so I thought, why shouldn't I?? So go check it out would ya? Its powered by Google so its gotta be good. Plus if people are really winning free stuff, whats the harm in trying right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I have to work on a new name for The One Who Makes My Heart Smile. That is waaaayy too long to type. Ideas in my head are only one so far: The Stallion (which is a fun nickname we have for him). TBA....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113520185498363935?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113520185498363935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113520185498363935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113520185498363935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113520185498363935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/pms-much-among-other-things.html' title='PMS much among other things...'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113475997430329449</id><published>2005-12-16T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T11:29:46.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Retraction</title><content type='html'>Ok I found out this morning that I didn't do as much damage as I had thought last night. But I really did feel THAT bad last night. Alcohol will fuel intense feelings of guilt. Make a note in case you didn't know that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning's relief was another rush of emotions. I feel tired today. I don't know if it is because of my hangover or because I was really restless last night while trying to sleep. The doctor in me tells me it is a combination of the two. Self diagnoses is a wonderful thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your day for me. I'll be sitting here at work feeling sick and bored and wishing to be in bed with the one person who makes my heart smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen your face a thousand times,&lt;br /&gt;Have all your stories memorized&lt;br /&gt;I've Kissed your lips a million ways&lt;br /&gt;But I still love to have you around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its you there when I close my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;And you in the morning&lt;br /&gt;I never thought you'd still be mine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113475997430329449?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113475997430329449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113475997430329449' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113475997430329449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113475997430329449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/little-retraction.html' title='A Little Retraction'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113471681937018815</id><published>2005-12-15T23:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T23:06:59.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>broken heart?</title><content type='html'>I think I broke his heart tonight. I feel bad. I feel like dirt. I feel like the dirt that people avoid stepping in because they just aren't quite sure what could be in it. As a matter of fact, I feel worse. How much worse can you get? Think about it. Then imagine that I'm that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pathetic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113471681937018815?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113471681937018815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113471681937018815' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113471681937018815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113471681937018815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/broken-heart.html' title='broken heart?'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113467606433262454</id><published>2005-12-15T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T11:47:44.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It Can Be Special....</title><content type='html'>Some days, I really H.A.T.E. forwards. Some of them are so stupid. I like the jokes, I like the pictures, b ut I usually do not like the ones that tell you about bad luck if you dont forward, blah blah blah. Those are crap. I got one today that had some interesting quotes. Just thought I would share....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; We don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they'll love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart but if it doesn't, be content it grew in yours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113467606433262454?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113467606433262454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113467606433262454' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113467606433262454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113467606433262454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/it-can-be-special.html' title='It Can Be Special....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113462295616210277</id><published>2005-12-14T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T22:07:09.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Way to Answer the Phone</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons135.gif" title="you make me" border="0"&gt;  I think the best way that anyone has ever answered my call was this morning. By far the best that I can remember. &lt;br /&gt;phone: *ring ring*&lt;br /&gt;him: I was just thinking about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have died right then and been happy. &lt;br /&gt;Amazing how things should be for me if I could have that life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113462295616210277?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113462295616210277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113462295616210277' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113462295616210277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113462295616210277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/another-t.html' title='Best Way to Answer the Phone'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113458986197963058</id><published>2005-12-14T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T11:51:01.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Make People Happy....</title><content type='html'>Me: So, he told me today that it was my job to take care of him. I had to ask him, "well then who is going to take care of me?" (This came out half understandable as I was almost crying at that point in the conversation)&lt;br /&gt;Me: That is really unfair to me.&lt;br /&gt;Him: You make people happy. Don't you know that?&lt;br /&gt;Him: You make your son happy. You make your mom happy. You make me happy don't you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: *speechless*&lt;br /&gt;Me: *still speechless*&lt;br /&gt;Him: You make me happy. That should be enough. And you are good at it. We always have fun when we are together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This conversation was too emotional for a Tuesday night. But he made up for the comment that started to break my heart so I had to forgive him. He is too cute NOT to forgive anyways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113458986197963058?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113458986197963058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113458986197963058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113458986197963058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113458986197963058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/you-make-people-happy.html' title='You Make People Happy....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19843291.post-113453254534301930</id><published>2005-12-13T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T20:22:09.020-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First of many....</title><content type='html'>wow... first blog with blogger. I am a xanga veteran, what can I say? I even pay for it! And yet here I am.... I think this has something to do with the different blogs I have been browsing lately and the formats used. I cant have that with xanga. I doubt I will renew my membership with them when the time comes. Which just means that I have to cancel my membership before they charge me automatically again.... which they have been doing for about 2 years now because I am too lazy to cancel it. How sad is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways. Introductory post to come later. I want to get the format of this down before I make this place really feel like home. I'm sure you will understand and forgive me later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19843291-113453254534301930?l=adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/feeds/113453254534301930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19843291&amp;postID=113453254534301930' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113453254534301930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19843291/posts/default/113453254534301930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adifferentkindofsoccermom.blogspot.com/2005/12/first-of-many.html' title='First of many....'/><author><name>A Different Kind of Soccer Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03380017955622367027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v305/star_swinger/myspaceicons127.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
