<?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-8596163464216953794</id><updated>2012-01-29T13:01:44.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mrs. Schwarzmann</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>240</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1223747674345587723</id><published>2012-01-23T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T12:19:36.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My little love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You know, being a mother is awesome. And not awesome. All at the same time. There are moments like these:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Pooping in the bathtub&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Peeing on her leg right after said bath&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Not sleeping without me in the room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Figuring out she doesn't have to listen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Screeching when she's angry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Getting mad at us when we say no&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Wanting to watch movies too much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Her still not eating real people food&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Not sharing all the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Not speaking in sentences even though she knows how&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;Then there are moments like these:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Holding my hand as she falls asleep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Listening to her sing along with songs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Her smile/laugh and all that goes with it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When she starts to cry at sad parts in movies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When I chase her and she runs into a wall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When she laughs at absolutely nothing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Her helping me do the dishes and laundry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When I ask her to do something and she does&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How she will always ask me where dad is, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;even though I just told her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The way she will only dance with her baby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How she says "Play-Doh"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How she loves to spend time with Jon and my close friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The times she tells Jon and I to dance with each other&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The way she will push me over and stick her face on mine so I can't move&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The times she kisses me and leaves her face there, just looking around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Our games of hide and seek&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When she is playing with her animals and makes the monkey noises&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How every animal except the monkey goes "RAR!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*...Even Darth Vader&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Her hair is finally long enough for pigtails&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*She will put on my tall boots and bear crawl so she doesn't fall in them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How if I show her a girly toy and Star wars toys she will usually pick Star Wars&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How when we watch Baby Evie, she doesn't want to leave her side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The way she is so excited to help change a babies diaper&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When she's lonely she will ask for her friends "Evie, Aidan, Ethan and Scout"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Keep in mind all those are people, except Scout. Scout is a dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The way when I cry she finds a cloth to wipe my tears&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When we sit close to each other, sometimes she holds my hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How she won't give Jon kisses, hoping he won't have to go to school&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The times she cries when Jon leaves because she wants to play with him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*How much she loves and is entertained by little things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Being a mother is hard. But the good will always outweigh the bad. I'm so grateful for every moment I have to be a mom and I would never trade that for the world. I complain at times, but when it comes down to it, my daughter is adorably perfect. Jon and I got lucky.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yM0bOyBvzEQ/Tx2_qBjQAmI/AAAAAAAABPw/EYVZ-5R84MI/s320/IMG_7333.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700923432012612194" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2tgGbx_riT8/Tx2_qZ3MIKI/AAAAAAAABP8/rYpumIAQzpg/s320/IMG_7335.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700923438538694818" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UKL3Gv08DC4/Tx2_r4bvs-I/AAAAAAAABQU/deBoKOj9uoY/s320/IMG_7364.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700923463924954082" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QJRlmBasIIU/Tx3AoV_XF5I/AAAAAAAABQs/fSRN5_KTF_0/s320/IMG_7329.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700924502651115410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gv22weBGN10/Tx2_rNoVeZI/AAAAAAAABQI/al7l51ULN8I/s320/IMG_7357.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700923452435036562" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8zRD_uhe0wA/Tx2_sL4KrRI/AAAAAAAABQg/UAo753DP4uc/s1600/IMG_7370.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8zRD_uhe0wA/Tx2_sL4KrRI/AAAAAAAABQg/UAo753DP4uc/s320/IMG_7370.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700923469144435986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1223747674345587723?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1223747674345587723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-little-love.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1223747674345587723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1223747674345587723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-little-love.html' title='My little love'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yM0bOyBvzEQ/Tx2_qBjQAmI/AAAAAAAABPw/EYVZ-5R84MI/s72-c/IMG_7333.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3396428959840243685</id><published>2012-01-05T23:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T23:26:36.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ranting</title><content type='html'>So I need to rant. Thus my blog. I want a nice place to live. Not to say our place isn't nice. It is. I'm sick of paying for laundry, i'm sick of a small kitchen, i'm sick of my poor daughter not having a backyard to run around in. I hate having to always "settle" for a place to live. Apparently it is too hard to ask for a nice place to live that has space and wasn't made in the 1600's. (I have actually seen one build in 1890.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want somewhere to live. I want somewhere nice. We are going to be in Provo for about 3 more years. I want to be comfortable as we stay here. I want to walk into a nice frontroom, cook in a kitchen that has ROOM for a dining room table so we don't have to eat at a coffee table, I want a nice master bedroom that fits our bed and dresser comfortably. I especially want 3 bedrooms. I know Jon and I aren't jumping on the new baby train yet, but i'm betting within 3 years we will. I want somewhere to PUT said baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want a place that is big enough for my family and their dreams to live in. I know that every new married couple has to deal with small and/or annoying places to live. We have been married almost 3 years now though. And our daughter is over 2...shouldn't that mean that we are due for somewhere better? Maybe not. Maybe i'm selfish, self centered and unrealistic. At least i'm all those things and I admit it though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, rant over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3396428959840243685?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3396428959840243685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2012/01/ranting.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3396428959840243685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3396428959840243685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2012/01/ranting.html' title='Ranting'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5483466579341360168</id><published>2011-12-16T20:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T21:12:56.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Elf on the Shelf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So...there is this big to do about the whole "Elf on the Shelf" thing. To be honest, I just heard of it when my sister sent me an email about it today. So I read up on it to figure out what it was about, read what others thought of it and such. Now before I say anything else, i'm sure I will offend someone. So...that sucks, but I am entitled to my opinion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Elf on the Shelf is a story book that comes with a mini toy elf. The whole thing is about how elves are sent to sit in peoples houses from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve and watch kids to make sure they are being nice. While everyone sleeps they fly back and report to Santa. Then the next day he is in a different spot. Also apparently their magic will go out if you touch them. Then they can't fly or anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Gjfxg6huE/TuwkmI5qkJI/AAAAAAAABO0/VfliOsBz-ss/s320/the%252Belf.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686960667105071250" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here's my thought. I think the whole Elf on the Shelf thing is a bad idea. Maybe it goes with the whole not wanting to lie to our children and tell them that Santa is real thing. Really though, if my child has to be bribed to behave for a month by a creepy looking plush toy, that's just a little sad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I understand wanting to make Christmas time fun, wanting traditions, wanting for your child to be good for one day and such. But what happens on December 26th? Was the Elf sitting on your shelf for a month really worth it? Now they feel like they aren't being "watched" and so they don't have to behave as much. I just see it all backfiring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only that, but YET AGAIN it is taking away from the whole point of Christmas. Wait, let me say that again CHRISTmas. Has this holiday become so incredibly commercialized that for a month you are building up to presents from Santa? You can't even throw a wise man on the shelf or something? Maybe I should write that book. "Wise man in the can." Hides in a can and watches you and reports to Jesus. I don't know about you, but I know who i'd be better for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that Jon and I aren't perfect, we don't always make it to church, and things like that. I like to think though that instead of making an Elf do my job of getting my children to behave that I can bring the Christ back into Christmas and not bother with him at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Again, this will probably offend someone. Seriously though, I just get so sick of the fact that even though the reason we celebrate Christmas is to rejoice in Christ's birth, it is all about Santa now. Not to say I don't love some non religious Christmas movies such as Elf, Muppet Christmas Carol and Santa Clause. I love those. Just the whole Elf on the Shelf thing bugs me because you pay $30 for your child to be focused solely on Santa from Thanksgiving to Christmas, just to do it all over again the next year. So if I seemed "Holier than Thou." I promise that was not the intent. If you knew me, you would know that is not how I am. I just get super annoyed at the lack of religious respect this time of year. Thanks all for bearing with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bxlOtN5VuO4/TuwksMQY_1I/AAAAAAAABPA/yXUK8UPdMG8/s320/christmas-nativity-scene-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686960771084910418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5483466579341360168?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5483466579341360168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/elf-on-shelf.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5483466579341360168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5483466579341360168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/elf-on-shelf.html' title='Elf on the Shelf'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_Gjfxg6huE/TuwkmI5qkJI/AAAAAAAABO0/VfliOsBz-ss/s72-c/the%252Belf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1801948123586604171</id><published>2011-12-10T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T07:15:44.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movies</title><content type='html'>So over time Ileyana has has many favorite movies. I thought it would be fun to get on here and type them all out in order :)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Tangled&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Despicable Me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Toy Story (Mostly 2, but any of them really)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*How to Train Your Dragon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Mega Mind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Gnomeo &amp;amp; Juliet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Charlie and the Chocolate Factory w/ Johnny Depp&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Currently we are at the Charlie phase. Also there are some "Honorable Mentions" Movies she loves, but has never had a full out phase with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Monsters Inc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Horton Hears a Who&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Santa Clause&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Muppet Christmas Carol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These phases have all been over the past year or so. Ever since Tangled came out and we got it. Sometimes I don't like that she likes movies. It is fun though to see which ones she will pick next. I sure do love my little girl :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1801948123586604171?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1801948123586604171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/movies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1801948123586604171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1801948123586604171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/movies.html' title='Movies'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1430759292641486796</id><published>2011-12-07T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T23:42:12.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feet</title><content type='html'>Before I whine, I want to say that I am INCREDIBLY grateful for the bunion surgery that I recieved. I believe that it will improve my quality of life and my husband won't have to listen to me whine about my foot hurting all the time. So now the reason for me blogging. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so frustrated. I never thought all this through. I thought, oh ya, my foot will be out of service, i'll be out of it for a week or so then I will just be annoyed on crutches. Ya. I was stupid. I didn't realize that when you are on crutches everything is impossible. I can't put ANY weight on my foot so I can't really stand and do anything. I balance on crutches. Whilst I balance on said crutches I can't carry anything. That includes but is not limited to: a laundry basket, a plate, cup, bowl, blanket, my daughter, a computer...pretty much imagine any object, I can't carry it. And since I can't really fit into normal pants I am in pj's so I don't even have pockets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Showering has to be done on a chair, which you would think would take a shorter amount of time. Nope. Longer. Even brushing my teeth has to be done while leaning on the toilet. Standing up too long is exhausting. Which eliminates me helping at all around the house. I made a crock pot recipe tonight, loaded dishes and did 3 loads of laundry and that was exhausting and very time consuming for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Walking, forget about it. Stairs make me so anxious that I will tip one way or the other that I spend 30 seconds on each stair. Sadly, holding Ileyana is impossible. I can't carry her anywhere so I can't put her to bed, take her to the bathroom, comfort her unless i'm sitting down...anything really. I can't even try to think how I can finish Christmas shopping. I can drive and store trips seem rather difficult.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now the real kicker. Along with this ample list of things that I can not do, it means that ALL of those things fall on Jon. Getting me water, taking care of Ileyana, cleaning the house and everything else there is to do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Again, I am so grateful for the chance I have had to fix a problem I knew would just get worse and i'm young enough to heal fast, that doesn't mean it doesn't come with it's challenges. I took for granted how important every body part is to function. It's amazing what a simple foot can change in your daily routine. I am excited in February to FINALLY be back to normal. It will be wonderful. Not only for me, but for Ileyana who is sick of me not being able to help, my knees who may or may not fall off from all the crawling i've done, and most of all, that poor husband of mine who has had the burden of mother, father and school duties all fall on his over exhausted shoulders. I'm glad Jon is patient.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS. I did this not for attention or to hear, "Oh no, poor girl that must be horrible." I blog to vent. Now that I have had ample amounts of venting time, I feel a bit better. Still stressed, but glad that I got this done. In a few months all this will be so worth it, even if it's hard now :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1430759292641486796?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1430759292641486796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/feet_07.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1430759292641486796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1430759292641486796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/feet_07.html' title='Feet'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6522371216249182762</id><published>2011-12-04T21:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T21:42:24.834-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Occupy Emily"</title><content type='html'>Fine. I give. I'm chiming in. I think the "Occupy" movement is a JOKE! I'm not going to say I don't agree with some aspects of their vast amounts of unorganized thoughts. I think the government and their workers sometimes takes more than is due. I don't think that retired government officials and such should be getting paid the amounts that they do, or at all really after they retire. But you want to know a secret? They aren't quitting their job and standing in a circle with picket signs for months on end trying to "prove" that the 1% takes too much. They are attending their job daily earning money. Weird. Imagine that. Here's the facts.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Example 1. My dad. We were never rich. We didn't live in a huge house with maids and butlers and such. But I do not consider us the "99%." The difference between my dad and others who aren't 1% ers, is that my dad doesn't whine about it all the time. He has had long days, weeks, months and years. He hurts and is tired. He gets screwed out of money he earns. Basically he's an American. It happens. But through all of growing up I was so proud of the fact that he always did whatever he needed to provide for his family and instead of complaining he didn't make enough money, he made the money he had count.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Example 2. Jon's grandpa. Some may consider him in the 1%. He didn't get there by manipulating and using people. He got there because he worked hard every day. He spent every ounce of energy he had on his work. He built a business from scratch. He did all that he could to make a life for his 3 kids. And he did great. He is now a great grandfather and has enough money to be considered the "dreadful 1%." And he is one of the sweetest and uncorrupt people I know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also I think it should be noted that the wives of both these men worked as well to make sure their husbands could achieve what they wanted. Neither of these men could be where they are without the women they married.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there you have it. A "99% er" and a "1% er." Both spectacular. Both work hard. And neither of them whine, moan and go protesting because of the corrupt systems, high taxes and all the other things the occupy movement is protesting. (Which may I say, is EVERYTHING. Pick a cause people. Seriously.) Instead, they go to work, work hard, come home and spend their energy appreciating what they have, loving their family and when the time comes, voting for people that they believe can change this country. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think our founding fathers would be sickened by what we are doing to the country they set up. They may not have been perfect but they worked their hardest to set up a country that we would be proud of. The question is, are we? Can we honestly say that we have done them proud as well?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope and pray that in my old age I can look beyond %'s and bitterness and just recognize that it is what I DO have that counts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6522371216249182762?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6522371216249182762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/occupy-emily.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6522371216249182762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6522371216249182762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/12/occupy-emily.html' title='&quot;Occupy Emily&quot;'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-2607130967208450637</id><published>2011-11-29T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-29T17:44:23.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yep</title><content type='html'>So...I fail at blogging lately. Sorry about that. Really nothing much has changed. My stitches are finally out, my foot has some weird bruising because they think a stitch popped under my skin, Ileyana is stinking adorable and Jon is working ridiculously hard to keep everything in order. Right now Iley has a temperature of about 101. So that's a bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I really posted to say this: We have some really awesome friends and family that have been helping us out during this time. I couldn't be more appreciative of those people in our lives. Love you all :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-2607130967208450637?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/2607130967208450637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/yep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2607130967208450637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2607130967208450637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/yep.html' title='Yep'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8183257885025948095</id><published>2011-11-24T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T10:11:13.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>In light of Thanksgiving, I thought I would write about things I am thankful for. In no particular order:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Ileyana and Jon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My family/friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The LDS religion. I am so much happier when i'm an active part of it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My surgery even if it's hard&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Being safe financially&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*A warm apartment filled with wonderful things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Janeal. She has been so phenomenal during my surgery&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Dr. Harper, for being a phenomenal podiatrist&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Cute clothes. They always make me feel better&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Patience. I don't always have an abundance of it, but it's there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Television. I am not going to hide the fact that I love it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My computer. Obviously it helps me do things I enjoy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Friends who have made an impact on my life. I don't want to go through and name them all. But they should know who they are. If I have brought you food, actually sat down and talked to you for a period of time or texted you for no reason. You are probably one of those people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Modern Medicine. Not only is it helpful in mine and Jon's life, but the life of my daughter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Jon's scholastic goals. I know they will bring us to great places one day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Our vacuum. This seems like an odd one to put on our list. But I love a clean house and our vacuum helps us accomplish that. A LOT&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The ones who are willing to watch Iley/take her at night. All you are wonderful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*People who my daughter like and will play with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*In laws who are giving and loving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*This Thanksgiving that we are blessed to spend with the Baer/Ratliff clan. It will be great!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Toys that Ileyana enjoys. I can't always entertain her on my own!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*That Jon and I are usually on the same page parenting wise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The ability to have my own children&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The chance I have had to learn and progress in life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The place my challenges have brought me to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are about a million more things I thankful for. And I know I have most likely forgotten to put so many things. But these are the ones that were on the top of my head when I sat down to write. So that's what's here. I love my life and all the aspects of it. Even if they are tough at times. I am especially grateful for my wonderful husband and loving daughter. Without them I would be so lost. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8183257885025948095?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8183257885025948095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/thankful-thanksgiving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8183257885025948095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8183257885025948095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/thankful-thanksgiving.html' title='Thankful Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4112743744679825838</id><published>2011-11-18T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T22:46:51.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery and such</title><content type='html'>Well Hello everyone. Sorry I have been somewhat absent lately. I thought now would be a good time to explain. So my family has this great genetic thing called a bunion. Which is when your big toe points toward the second toe, causing a bump on the outside of the edge of your toe. Also known as, big pain on your foot that makes all shoes fit funny. Seen here:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xZ-KfI_7aKI/TsdHTXMMFOI/AAAAAAAABNc/1opGQUHmXeU/s1600/IMG_7018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 274px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xZ-KfI_7aKI/TsdHTXMMFOI/AAAAAAAABNc/1opGQUHmXeU/s320/IMG_7018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676584253292025058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always had it, whether it was mild or not. Tight shoes, high heels and such make things like this worse. Well I love high heels and dancing in them. So let's just say, I metaphorically hung my foot with a noose. This past summer Jon and I spent a week in New York which was a LOT of walking which started to make my little bunion bark at me a little more than usual. I have learned to deal with this. So it didn't really bug me all that much, because I knew there was nothing I could do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is until a friend of mine signed me up for a bunion study. It actually ended up I wasn't able to do the study which was a bummer, but it pushed me into gear to get my bunion fixed. It is so much better to get them fixed while you are young and agile. And I really didn't want to wait until we had even more kids to get it done. So the time to get it fixed was now. So I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We scheduled the surgery for Wednesday the 16th. I made sure the house was all clean and pretty, got freezer meals all ready and set it up so my awesome sisters would watch Ileyana for the first few days while I was down. I really didn't think too much about after the surgery besides, "Painful time" and "How in the world will we do this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well we drop Ileyana off at about 9 on Wednesday and I come home to take a nice long shower and wash my feet real well. We get to the surgical center at 11 and at about 12:30 we finally get back to get the IV in me, which I am terrified about. I do not like needles. Jon was sweet and held me though while they did that. Then they took me back into the Operation Room. Which oddly enough looks a lot like they show it in TV shows. Bed in the center of the room which you really don't want to be laying on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember walking into the room and saying, "Wow, this looks a little daunting." They put monitors on my chest, put a breathing tube in, the thing in my finger, the blood pressure cuff and hooked my IV up to those nice drugs that knock me out. That's the last thing I remember. While I was out, they operated on me! Eek! They cut the first metatarsal of my big toe as close to the posterior joint as possible, and realigned it so everything was situated properly and finally parallel with the others! I have 2 hollow titanium screws in the bone. They're about 2mm in diameter and 24mm in length. They are situated so that there is only about 1mm of the screw head protruding past the bone surface. (I hope all that made sense.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after surgery they took me to the recovery room to get me awake, check my stats and such. I kept telling the nurse that her eyes were pretty, I asked them what they were doing for Thanksgiving and kept talking. A lot. I drank like 3 juice boxes. (I was STARVING! I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I am under strict orders to not put ANY weight on my feet until after my 6 week check-up. At that point they will take x-rays with weight on my foot and see how much spread there is between the bones. Normal spread is no more than 8 degrees and Dr. Harper was very optimistic it would fall under that. I just have to be REALLY CAREFUL! After 6 weeks if it is looking good, then I will only have 6 more weeks in a walking boot. So 12 weeks healing altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily I have the best husband in the world who has been so considerate and making sure I stay safe. I've had a hard time accepting this amount of help. As most people know, I like to give help and i'm not so good at receiving it. So this has been very humbling. I think through ALL of this the biggest blessing has been Janeal and Tiana. They have had Ileyana since Wednesday morning and they still have her. (I think we are getting her back either tomorrow or Sunday. It depends how I feel.) I feel bad because Ileyana got Tiana sick. So...poor everyone in that house right now. I have never been more grateful for these 2 individuals then I am right now. I can't imagine what I would do without them right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so amazing to me the amount of people that love and care for me and have wanted to be a part of this healing process of mine. I have such amazing friends and family and I have high hopes that my recovery will go well. I'm nervous. Very nervous. We can get through it though. Me, Ileyana, Jon and the massive support system behind us. Thanks all for being amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4112743744679825838?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4112743744679825838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/surgery-and-such.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4112743744679825838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4112743744679825838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/surgery-and-such.html' title='Surgery and such'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xZ-KfI_7aKI/TsdHTXMMFOI/AAAAAAAABNc/1opGQUHmXeU/s72-c/IMG_7018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6085349407595929473</id><published>2011-11-14T08:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T09:30:44.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brother In Law Awesomeness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I haven't ever bragged about my brother in law, Ben, I need to. Not only did he make a changing table for his kids that they let us borrow...(it's been through a few kids)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4X_dRjCpVsQ/TsFGUXvE9AI/AAAAAAAABNQ/h0XyPLgi6KI/s1600/IMG_4574.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4X_dRjCpVsQ/TsFGUXvE9AI/AAAAAAAABNQ/h0XyPLgi6KI/s320/IMG_4574.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674894321246336002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And our AMAZING dresser that he gave to us when we got married...(excuse the daughter in the bra)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bW1_pdwPEoQ/TsFEW4Ua7TI/AAAAAAAABNE/DpsIqH1WohY/s1600/IMG_6822.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bW1_pdwPEoQ/TsFEW4Ua7TI/AAAAAAAABNE/DpsIqH1WohY/s320/IMG_6822.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674892165329382706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But he made Ileyana these animal cars for her birthday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dVJq9mPvxUU/TsFCOn_9ppI/AAAAAAAABM4/-sQVKyqGFB0/s1600/IMG_7179.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dVJq9mPvxUU/TsFCOn_9ppI/AAAAAAAABM4/-sQVKyqGFB0/s320/IMG_7179.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674889824486401682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have one very talented brother in law and I am very blessed to have him in our lives. Thanks Ben!! We love you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6085349407595929473?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6085349407595929473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/brother-in-law-awesomeness.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6085349407595929473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6085349407595929473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/brother-in-law-awesomeness.html' title='Brother In Law Awesomeness'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4X_dRjCpVsQ/TsFGUXvE9AI/AAAAAAAABNQ/h0XyPLgi6KI/s72-c/IMG_4574.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8723997269245059405</id><published>2011-11-09T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T20:21:34.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby girl isn't a baby!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So today my little girl turned 2. Weird. I don't feel like i'm old enough, mature enough or...really anything enough to have a 2 year old. She has grown up so fast and so beautiful. I never thought I could love one person as much as I do. Granted, she is difficult at times, but no matter how rude she is to Jon and I, she is still our little angel!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l5uaej0wBnA/TrtQwvPoOlI/AAAAAAAABMU/8_Hf2lJT-PI/s320/IMG_2009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673216953849231954" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;From 0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vC4sO84P5UE/TrtQwyp1HJI/AAAAAAAABMg/fsjkD0CfvvU/s320/IMG_4760.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673216954764434578" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to 1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wkopgS9Ac-A/TrtQxUWy_TI/AAAAAAAABMs/rYtQI3xiA10/s320/IMG_7109.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673216963811409202" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;to 2&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ileyana, your daddy and I love you very much. Please don't start dating until you are in your twenties.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8723997269245059405?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8723997269245059405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/baby-girl-isnt-baby.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8723997269245059405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8723997269245059405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/baby-girl-isnt-baby.html' title='Baby girl isn&apos;t a baby!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l5uaej0wBnA/TrtQwvPoOlI/AAAAAAAABMU/8_Hf2lJT-PI/s72-c/IMG_2009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5000668609607227943</id><published>2011-11-01T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T09:08:43.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What I learned from Halloween:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Costumes are awesome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Wearing a white costume at night with the hood up makes people yell "KKK" at you from their car&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ileyana&lt;/span&gt; is the cutest R2D2 to ever walk the planet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Jon can look really evil if he wants to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Impersonating Princess Leia is my calling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*White costumes (on me and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ileyana&lt;/span&gt;) get dirty very fast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ileyana&lt;/span&gt; likes to attack people with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;lightsabers&lt;/span&gt; just like her daddy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*My family is awesome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrD0i45gDxk/TrAZV-d4LUI/AAAAAAAABLY/IIjMvyk_ULU/s320/Halloween.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670059796195716418" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Photo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Courtesy&lt;/span&gt; of the one and only Luke Lewis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5000668609607227943?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5000668609607227943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/halloween-things.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5000668609607227943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5000668609607227943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/11/halloween-things.html' title='Halloween Things'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrD0i45gDxk/TrAZV-d4LUI/AAAAAAAABLY/IIjMvyk_ULU/s72-c/Halloween.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-2932088701759387313</id><published>2011-10-28T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-28T08:09:57.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gaming</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't written in a while. I haven't been in a real writey moode lately. And yes, that IS a word. Because I said it. So the reason I write now, is because of that adorable man I call my husband, and to correct many women, and some men, all over.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Jon and I first got married and I found out he was more of a "gamer" than I had originally imagined, I was a little worried. I just KNEW that it would be an addiction, and it would consume him and I would be the worlds most annoyed person. And for a while I was. Until I realized something amazing. Gaming isn't bad. Wait, let me do that again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;GAMING ISN'T BAD!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Don't get me wrong. I know a lot of people take it to the extreme, I get that. Anything can be unhealthy if done excessively though. This is how I look at it. If Jon still goes to school, still spends time with Ileyana and I, helps around the house, works, and fulfills his church calling...I think he earns some game time. A husband and wife just have to find that nice balance between too much, and tolerable. And chances are, the gamer will have to give up some time, and the spouse will have to deal with the fact that they game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You go into a marriage because you love the other person. Not because they are some project you want to work on. Jon let's me have my hobbies, I let him have his. I admit I have had some hard times depending on the game and the amount of time he plays some of them but he always listens. He is always willing to work and negotiate to find a place that is comfortable for me and Ileyana. He doesn't shrug his life away to play, so I don't mind that my husband is a Gamer. And I am PROUD to have 2 game systems in our house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-2932088701759387313?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/2932088701759387313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/gaming.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2932088701759387313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2932088701759387313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/gaming.html' title='Gaming'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4655309990371824588</id><published>2011-10-12T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T19:58:17.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>G.R.O.S.S.</title><content type='html'>So...tonight I didn't want to make dinner because Jon and I were both just pooped. So Ileyana and I went to Quizno's. I had just barely ordered and not even 2 seconds later, Ileyana threw up. All over my arm. Then again. Then again. Then again. We went to the bathroom and tried to clean as best as possible. She wouldn't let me put her clothes back on because they were SOAKED (as was my shirt.) So we left the bathroom, Iley only in a diaper and shoes and me with throw up literally all down my front.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bought the food I had previously ordered, left and tried not to cry. Ileyana fell asleep in the car, we got home, gave her a bath and I got out of my clothes. Needless to say, it was a very long night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4655309990371824588?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4655309990371824588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/gross.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4655309990371824588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4655309990371824588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/gross.html' title='G.R.O.S.S.'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5169321130975802902</id><published>2011-10-07T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T22:20:27.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BUMMER!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So...I've been sad today. Not like ridiculous-can't-function sad. Just generally...sad. This is why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You all probably know I was going to do that whole bunion study to get my stupid painful bunion removed, yes? Well after rescheduling about a million times because they were overbooked and I had to get a root canal, we finally were thinking we were getting close to an actual date being set. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was in the store and I got a call from the lady in which I was assuming would be the call of, "This is the date we are setting for you." Nope. The call was, "You have some abnormality in your blood work and so we have to disqualify you from our study." Needless to say, I was pretty bummed. (I was also about to go through the check out when this call came...so that was embarrassing.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are going to get my blood work done somewhere else and check if what they thought was wrong, was actually misinformation, but either way I can't do the study. There is another one in December and unless I don't have some of the issues they were saying I do, I can't qualify. FAIL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's nothing life threatening, it isn't even a big deal. I just don't have blood that would be compatible with the drugs they are trying out because of this and that, that the lady rambled on about. And they have to be real careful when trying drugs. So I get it, and i'm not mad at them or anything. Just bummed for my foot. My foot and I were really looking forward to this surgery. And I think a few of my high heels wouldn't have minded either. We miss each other dearly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well...that's what it's been like today. BUT we had dinner with some awesome friends so that made it all a bit better. And I made some homemade mashed potatoes which were pretty delicious if I do say so myself. AND Ileyana was being a little grumpy today, but real cute tonight. So it all made up for it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh...and last thought...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yDClIo43r-U/To_cs7Tb0ZI/AAAAAAAABKc/hsY0lHvgzoc/s320/IMG_7057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660985921019564434" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;LOOK HOW PRETTY!!!!! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5169321130975802902?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5169321130975802902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/bummer.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5169321130975802902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5169321130975802902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/bummer.html' title='BUMMER!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yDClIo43r-U/To_cs7Tb0ZI/AAAAAAAABKc/hsY0lHvgzoc/s72-c/IMG_7057.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5306014539673871140</id><published>2011-10-01T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T12:11:33.432-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Stupidity</title><content type='html'>So Ileyana's room bugged me. At least for her to be in. It was by loud neighbors, by the road and the pipes are annoyingly loud. So my thought yesterday? Switch rooms with her! I had to move around some stuff in the boxes in our outside storage to make room for more things, then I switched all the closet contents, took apart half of Ily's bed so it would make it through the door, took the door off, put many of her things in the frontroom, got the bed and dressers and such in the proper rooms and well...let's just say I started at 1, then at about 10, I was finally done with a cleanish house. I was utterly exhausted, but very thrilled with the work I had done. I think it will be a wonderful arrangement.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was rather difficult to actually get everything where it should be, and in a place where I enjoy and Ily was freaking out because she was very confused, now she seems just fine though! Wahoo!!! :) Anyway, that is how my day yesterday went. Tiring, maybe it was a little stupid, but there you have it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5306014539673871140?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5306014539673871140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-stupidity.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5306014539673871140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5306014539673871140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-stupidity.html' title='My Stupidity'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5412107883518617257</id><published>2011-09-28T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T07:36:34.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lately and such</title><content type='html'>So Highlights of my life as of lately:&lt;div&gt;DISCLAIMER! If you don't want to hear about my child's bowel movements, skip this first one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Ileyana trying to potty train. Wahoo! (First time she didn't poop IN the toilet, it was ON the toilet seat, not cool...but we fixed it and the rest went in.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I am getting surgery on my foot to remove my bunion. (Did you know the official term for bunion is hallux valgus? Weird. Who know?) I'm actually pretty nervous about the surgery since the recovery time is going to be 10-12 weeks instead of the glorious 6 weeks I'd hoped for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Bright side? They are paying for the surgery and everything AND paying us some money, because it's a trial drug. Don't worry, not putting myself in horrible amounts of danger. It should be just fine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Jon is grading papers for 2 classes, and it takes FOREVER. Oh well, he's getting paid to stay at home with Ileyana and I. So I'm thrilled!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Alisha Owen, Janeal Shippen and Tiana Vanbuskirk are the most awesome sisters ever. Even if some aren't actually sisters. Yesterday Alisha went with me to my appointment with the sole purpose of holding my hand when they drew my blood while Tiana and Janeal watched Ileyana. The catch? I was gone from 1 to about 7:30. So seriously, these girls are the sweetest ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My house is a mess. That's not really news is it though? I think every mom has this issue from time to time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*As of this morning, Ileyana has lost her voice. It's the saddest thing in the world. She has just enough for a few squeaks and squawks, but that's it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I think that's really our lives as of late. Not much else to report. Ileyana is still the cutest thing to ever be on this planet, Jon is still the sweetest husband ever and I'm still me. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Sooner or later i'll actually post more pictures on here. I just have to take them first!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5412107883518617257?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5412107883518617257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/lately-and-such.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5412107883518617257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5412107883518617257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/lately-and-such.html' title='Lately and such'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7728925570010793932</id><published>2011-09-26T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T20:45:13.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother see, Mother do</title><content type='html'>So to start out, let us begin yesterday with me crying on the bed. Jon asked what was wrong and I told him that I feel pointless in my life. Not because my life is meaningless, but because the world tells me it is. Being a mother and homemaker is no longer enough. You have to do something else. Work, go to school, have a degree...etc. Not saying that those things aren't good, they are. yet for me, i've always wanted to be a mom. I love it. And sometimes I feel like when others ask what i'm doing and I say "I'm a mom." The reaction I get is, "Anything else?"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well no...isn't it enough? I think it is. I wake up before 8, get Ileyana breakfast, clean the house, get her lunch, do laundry, cook dinner, do the shopping, babysit other kids on occasion, have "school times" with Ily. I don't just sit around all the time. My life is active and eventful. And also, it is exactly the way I have always dreamed of it being. I always wanted to be that "soccer mom." That is who I am. I throw my life into my family and enjoy every second of it. Why does society want every mom to always be doing something else? I don't want to miss out on my children growing up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Granted, I DO want an education. I want to be able to have a degree, just not yet. I want to enjoy the time I have with my family. I want to be there when my children take their first steps, say their first words and all other manner of firsts. For me, it's not something I am willing to give up. So even if the world deems me as "lazy," being a mom is anything but. And I would take it over anything else in a heartbeat :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7728925570010793932?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7728925570010793932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/mother-see-mother-do.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7728925570010793932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7728925570010793932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/mother-see-mother-do.html' title='Mother see, Mother do'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6120462373209424544</id><published>2011-09-16T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T12:08:44.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Good Very Bad Bunion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I have a bunion. Yes like an old lady. It's true. (Thanks for those genetics Grandpa.) Anyway, in the past it has been mildly uncomfortable and somewhat upsetting. Nothing too bad though. I think over years of high heels, dancing, dancing in high heels and tight shoes have finally taken it's toll though. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It hurts...bad. When I walk, when I stand, when I wake up...all the time. So I decided to look into a bunionectomy. Online I went to find Podiatrists and see what my options were. One I found looked particularly great and people seemed to really enjoy his work. (As much as you can enjoy someone sawing into your foot.) So I called and talked to the lady and asked her for some more information. As the office lady who could actually help me was out of town I was told she would call me back on Monday. Cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 hour later I get a call from some woman asking me about my bunion and that I had put my name on for a study at the Women's Expo...weird. I was in Idaho when that went on. Apparently my friend Lauren put me on the list for it. (High Five Lauren!) So I gave her my information and it just so happens that the Podiatrist I liked so much was the one working with the Jean Brown Research company for surgeries! *Happy Dance!* So Monday I go in so they can look at my foot and tell me. "Gross, we should take that thing off. Are you ready for this?" I'll say no, be all panicked about surgery and eventually break down crying to Jon hoping it goes well and then once it's over...THEY PAY ME! Seriously, this is awesome. The only hitch is that I will have to stay in their office for a few days so they can make sure their drugs are working properly. So Ileyana will be a slight hassle. It will work out though. I'm scared, but hey, they can get this thing taken off! I'll give it a go. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now just to show you the horrible foot progression:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;October 24, 2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DCgfSpdZTGM/TnOb4IxhZXI/AAAAAAAABKE/kYMdAeq8tdQ/s320/IMG_4533.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653033346010277234" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;September 16, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXQGizC4eHs/TnOdvm1tTfI/AAAAAAAABKU/TtiuuO5-InI/s320/IMG_7018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653035398485331442" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Not cool foot...not cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;September 16, 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6120462373209424544?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6120462373209424544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/no-fun-bunion.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6120462373209424544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6120462373209424544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/no-fun-bunion.html' title='No Good Very Bad Bunion'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DCgfSpdZTGM/TnOb4IxhZXI/AAAAAAAABKE/kYMdAeq8tdQ/s72-c/IMG_4533.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8084192990781001209</id><published>2011-09-05T20:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T21:06:10.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something...</title><content type='html'>Do you ever have the feeling that you should be doing SOMETHING? You just don't know what? I've been feeling like that for a while now. It's driving me batty. We aren't supposed to move...is it a job? Is it a kid? A dog? A different place to live? I just feel like something is missing in our lives. I'm just not sure what. Nothing sounds like it fits just yet. The Zumba instructor thing is still in the debating process. We both think it would be a great idea. That's not the issue. But there are 401 classes within 25 miles of Provo...ouch. Would I even be able to get people to my class? Sure I know people. But people who would be willing to fork out money to make this a weekly thing? I'm not sure. Bah.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would just love for all my questions to be answered without any effort on my part. Alas, life does not work that way. (Wish it did.) So here I sit, on my couch. Pulling out any small inclining in my brain as to what this mystery thing in my life is that I feel needs to be fixed. I know Jon and Ileyana are right. So even if everything else falls apart, they are there. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8084192990781001209?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8084192990781001209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/something.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8084192990781001209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8084192990781001209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/something.html' title='Something...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7489682800205161066</id><published>2011-09-02T11:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T11:29:23.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blargh</title><content type='html'>So...I don't have a job!! Long story, but it really boils down to the fact that the lady in whom I talked to was hesitant about a few things. I get it, even if it's very very annoying and frustrating. Oh well. But Jon has a job! WAHOO! He is grading 2 classes. Possibly tutoring if he hears back from the lady. We will see.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, the other day I washed crayon into most of Ileyana's clothes. Bummer. BUT I was able to get it all out! WAHOO! Here's how:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*HOT water&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Gain detergent&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Arm &amp;amp; Hammer detergent with Oxi Clean&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Vinegar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mix, soak clothes (the longer the better) or if you are impatient like me, scrub until your hands are raw! It worked though! YAHOO! There were only 1 or 2 shirts that had issues.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been a very emotional few days. I think i'm going to put my child to bed, and go Zumba.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7489682800205161066?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7489682800205161066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/blargh.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7489682800205161066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7489682800205161066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/09/blargh.html' title='Blargh'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8264957114777748294</id><published>2011-08-30T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T20:28:13.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ily sweetness</title><content type='html'>Ileyana and her sweetness:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I was babysitting our friends kid, Aidan. I was in the kitchen doing dishes and had the monitor on and they were just playing. Ily came in freaking out, brought me to Aidan who had stuck a cap in his mouth. He wasn't choking. But she knew it MAY hurt him. I got it out and she went "whew."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I was crying the other day and Ileyana came, gave me a hug and patted my back. If that wasn't cute enough, when she pulled away, she wiped away my tear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*She called my brother Aaron. (I didn't know this) But apparently the conversation went like this: Aaron: Is this Ileyana...Ily:Yes...Aaron:Is Mom there?...Ily:Mom?...Aaron:Where's mom?...(I walked into the room right here.) Ily: Here!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*On the first day Jon went back to school he asked Ily to give him a hug. She did. But she wouldn't let go. For like 5-10 minutes she just clung to her Daddy with a very concerned look on her face. (Earlier that day she was trying to get inside his backpack)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Her baby. She has fed it, changed it, put bum paste on it, dressed it walked it, put it to bed, bounced it and attempted to bathe it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*When I ask her to do something she doesn't want to, she will cuddle with me. She knows I won't move a lot of the time if she's cuddling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, I think my daughter is just the sweetest and most adorable little thing on this planet. I'm so grateful I have her!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8264957114777748294?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8264957114777748294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/ily-sweetness.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8264957114777748294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8264957114777748294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/ily-sweetness.html' title='Ily sweetness'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1917091801086247815</id><published>2011-08-25T14:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:28:34.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;BLOG FIXED!!! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1917091801086247815?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1917091801086247815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-fixed.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1917091801086247815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1917091801086247815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-fixed.html' title=''/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1167626894941796537</id><published>2011-08-19T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T11:41:15.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am just annoyed enough with my hair that something like this...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjEspmJB968/Tk6t_zzgy2I/AAAAAAAAA5s/SPFdlxnjoSE/s1600/77002_alyssa2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjEspmJB968/Tk6t_zzgy2I/AAAAAAAAA5s/SPFdlxnjoSE/s400/77002_alyssa2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642638694891440994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sounds all too tempting. Sadly I don't think my husband would go for it and I wouldn't have the guts. So it may stay just a dream, but for now. My hair should die.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1167626894941796537?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1167626894941796537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/hair-dont.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1167626894941796537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1167626894941796537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/hair-dont.html' title='Hair don&apos;t'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjEspmJB968/Tk6t_zzgy2I/AAAAAAAAA5s/SPFdlxnjoSE/s72-c/77002_alyssa2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3587587755087699729</id><published>2011-08-15T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T21:05:53.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bummer and a half</title><content type='html'>If you delete your photo's from G +, they delete from your blog. That being said, all my past photos are no longer there because they were deleted from my g+. So that being said, I can&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a. try to put them all back up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;b. ignore it and move one&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;c. start a new blog&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;thoughts?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3587587755087699729?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3587587755087699729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/bummer-and-half.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3587587755087699729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3587587755087699729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/bummer-and-half.html' title='Bummer and a half'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5954158205678970473</id><published>2011-08-15T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T14:11:13.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow Up</title><content type='html'>So the reason I posted the last post was because a friend of mine was having issues with this. So I told her that she should have me post it as I also agree with it, then she can share it on her fb. Word should get around right? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I have issues with blog topics at times. So if any of you wonderful people who read my blog have something that annoys you to your very soul, shoot me a message and i'm sure I have a strong opinion on it and I will be more than thrilled to write about it so you don't have to seem like the bad guy and announce to people all those awkward things. Just post my blog posts. ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope it wouldn't be weird. Because this actually seems like fun. I would LOVE to help my friends be a little less annoyed about stupid people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5954158205678970473?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5954158205678970473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/follow-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5954158205678970473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5954158205678970473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/follow-up.html' title='Follow Up'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7423692313729172163</id><published>2011-08-14T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T21:24:48.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be polite or shutup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9EIFs4sAog/Tkifac5sYzI/AAAAAAAAA3E/XIBb8pHuRBE/s1600/0511-0809-0704-2252_Cartoon_of_a_Man_With_His_Foot_In_His_Mouth_clipart_image.jpg.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 350px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9EIFs4sAog/Tkifac5sYzI/AAAAAAAAA3E/XIBb8pHuRBE/s400/0511-0809-0704-2252_Cartoon_of_a_Man_With_His_Foot_In_His_Mouth_clipart_image.jpg.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640933810065138482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a fine line between inquiring minds wanting to know and inappropriate questions. I think where many people fail miserably here is this.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just because you are married and having regular sex, does not mean that every ache and pain includes a baby.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just in case you think that it's perfectly acceptable to joke around when someone is just first married, asking if they are pregnant, let me put this into light for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sally: "Oh boy, I feel sick today."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friend: "You must be pregnant!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What you didn't know is that Sally is infertile, had a miscarriage, lost a baby or a myriad of other issues. You just made her cry for the rest of the night by dangling a dream that could never be a reality. Not only that but you are literally saying,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You are feeling sick, so did you and your husband have unprotected sex, and did it create a fetus in your uterus?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So let me make this really easy for you. If someone says, "I'm pregnant" then you can talk to them about it. Until then, play it safe and butt out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And just because i'm sure many of you are thinking about it, No I am not pregnant, nor have we had any of the previous issues mentioned. It was just something on my mind. Be polite and don't assume illness equals a baby unless a baby has been previously mentioned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7423692313729172163?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7423692313729172163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/be-polite-or-shutup.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7423692313729172163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7423692313729172163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/08/be-polite-or-shutup.html' title='Be polite or shutup'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9EIFs4sAog/Tkifac5sYzI/AAAAAAAAA3E/XIBb8pHuRBE/s72-c/0511-0809-0704-2252_Cartoon_of_a_Man_With_His_Foot_In_His_Mouth_clipart_image.jpg.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5709520427216463297</id><published>2011-07-28T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T18:24:29.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Random.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Why women cut their hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mlhxc0LEYrM/TjILgg49LlI/AAAAAAAAA28/vQqW-EH7Gf4/s1600/SunCartoon%2B%25281%2529.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 193px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mlhxc0LEYrM/TjILgg49LlI/AAAAAAAAA28/vQqW-EH7Gf4/s400/SunCartoon%2B%25281%2529.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634578737006456402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Why they regret it afterwards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 288px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fvQeDB7_OxA/TjILgG2vPwI/AAAAAAAAA2s/WjdJl-C4kIc/s400/woman-pulling-hair-out.-Cartoon..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634578730017832706" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;A man's real number one enemy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wg6T_Ag3tu8/TjILgbtaZmI/AAAAAAAAA20/eh4akw17_2k/s1600/frustration.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 279px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wg6T_Ag3tu8/TjILgbtaZmI/AAAAAAAAA20/eh4akw17_2k/s400/frustration.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634578735615862370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5709520427216463297?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5709520427216463297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/07/something-random.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5709520427216463297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5709520427216463297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/07/something-random.html' title='Something Random.'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mlhxc0LEYrM/TjILgg49LlI/AAAAAAAAA28/vQqW-EH7Gf4/s72-c/SunCartoon%2B%25281%2529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1618151114494128485</id><published>2011-07-09T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:27:36.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So the Republicans want to cut the James Webb Space Telescope from NASA's budget. And to quote my husband, it would "Make the Hubble Telescope look like binoculars." Well there was a day long ago where news like this didn't mean much to me. Now it means A LOT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For one, that's stupid. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For two, if the American space industries are more or less taking a step or two backwards, that kind of changes things for our family. Jon really wants to do research/space exploration with physics. And by want, I mean he IS going to do it. If America isn't going to progress more in Science, then Jon won't really be able to have a decent job here. Which means...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YLR089scPFc/Tla-LkHEUGI/AAAAAAAABJY/A37OreCbWNc/s320/esa-logo400.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644908288836653154" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;European Space Agency! Okay, not for sure. Who knows where we will end up. Whatever country has a good job for Jon we will go. Now, my reason for posting:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Upon reflecting on the fact that we have NO idea where in the world (literally) we will end up, I realized something. I don't care. Sure I will miss my family and friends, but I am perfectly fine picking up and moving my life and family to wherever Jon is needed. To whatever country. Jon is the same way. How lucky were we both that we both happened to find the type of person that doesn't care where we go? And even luckier, because with Jon's future plans, that is kind of how our lives may go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am just excited at the thought of where we may end up. And what country we will be in. Whether this one or another, I know we will be happy :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1618151114494128485?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1618151114494128485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/07/future.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1618151114494128485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1618151114494128485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/07/future.html' title='Future??'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YLR089scPFc/Tla-LkHEUGI/AAAAAAAABJY/A37OreCbWNc/s72-c/esa-logo400.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7822379843076496685</id><published>2011-06-24T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T00:01:34.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wife Fail/Husband Win</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, there was a wife. Her and her family were going to leave to a far away land for 2 long months. As such, the wife knew that they would not see their friends in whom they are finally getting close to. So an idea came to her! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I will orchestrate a night of fun and fancy. Mine husband can play Halo with friends while the women frolic and speak many interesting and odd things. That will be our parting gift to our friends. Time."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then once upon a time, 9 hours after the men started gaming (and they were still going strong,) that wife realized she was stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;THE END&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7822379843076496685?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7822379843076496685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/wife-failhusband-win.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7822379843076496685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7822379843076496685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/wife-failhusband-win.html' title='Wife Fail/Husband Win'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7278979511049056593</id><published>2011-06-20T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:17:26.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I want</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;There are many things that I want in this life but I thought I would write a few down. Some are very obtainable, some are ridiculous. But hey, that's what makes life fun right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Get a college degree bachelors +&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Be a singer ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Get Jon into space (Oddly this is one is pretty realistic)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Find that perfect hairstyle that takes minimal time but is still cute&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Repair relationships with people in whom I have a hard time with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Have and raise 3 more children&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Teach my children to the best of my ability the things they should know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Keep relationships with close friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Learn at least 2 other languages&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Learn to play Piano&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Learn to play Guitar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Learn all music artists worth mentioning in the 1900's. The real time that music lived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Open up an old school Dance club. No original music made after 1970&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Open a store called RIS and only sell things that sparkle in it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Go on at least 1 LDS mission with Jon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*See at least 10 other countries and live in at least 1 of them for over a year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*If we ever live in Germany get Tiana there to see the Neuschwanstein castle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Fix things about body that pain me (Some teeth, bunion, etc...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Be a back up singer for Zooey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Meet Zooey Deschannel, Mandy Moore, Paul Rudd, Hugh Grant/Laurie/Jackman and well...you get the point on that one. All the really cool people Jon and I like&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Build my dream house with secret rooms, swimming pool and basement safe house :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Put degree I earn to actual good use&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Find those 3 quarters Ileyana hid today so I can finish my laundry...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think that is it for now. Sometimes it's nice to be selfish and think about the things you want to accomplish in your life. Whether it be realistic or not. I'm happy today. It is such a better day than yesterday. Ileyana is feeling way better. Which makes our life loads better!! :) So yep, those are my wishes :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7278979511049056593?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7278979511049056593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/things-i-want.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7278979511049056593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7278979511049056593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/things-i-want.html' title='Things I want'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3972299298190285972</id><published>2011-06-19T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T07:55:02.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bah!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I get in little "Mom funks" where I feel like a bad mom and everything is just off. I think Ileyana and I have hit simultaneous funks. She has a HORRIBLE diaper rash. (No shocker there right?) Also she is constipated...still. This is like a freaking month-month and a half of constipation. And before you all give me these fabulous ideas on how to fix it, it doesn't work. I'm like half a step from taking her to the doctors and telling him to get that poop vacuum i've heard about. I'm so sick of it. I want my happy Ileyana back. And because she can't poop and her stomach hurts, she won't eat. And because she won't eat and can't poop she wakes up in the middle of the night either for food or to cry because her bum hurts. Last night she was up from midnight to...5?? 6?? I don't even remember. I'm just so tired.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So ya. I just wanted to publicly vent about this. I'm sick of her crying all the time, being in so much pain, her bum getting a rash because of all the constant mini poops, not getting sleep, her not wanting ANYONE else but me...all the time, and just the constant grumpiness. I want my Ily back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We shall continue trying all the wonderful poop inducers and hope something works out. (Pardon the slight pun.) On a side note, a week and a half until we start driving to DC, a whole crap load of stuff to do, clean, pack and I REALLY hope Ileyana isn't this grouchy in the car. She probably will be. Can someone give me some good news? I think I need some. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3972299298190285972?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3972299298190285972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/bah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3972299298190285972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3972299298190285972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/bah.html' title='Bah!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6407108339024693472</id><published>2011-06-10T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:16:33.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jean Baker :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Very few people get a mother in law as amazing as mine. Jon and I have been so incredibly grateful for all her time and effort she's given us. Today she came over to have lunch with us and before she left she said that she should take Ileyana for the night. She has done this countless times for us and this one was particularly sweet because it was just so out of the blue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I hear of all these people and their horror stories with their mother in laws. It just makes me even that more grateful that mine is the wonderful, giving and spectacular woman she is. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k9z_0fH5i0g/Tla7peYxSgI/AAAAAAAABJQ/-5KoLxpf3Hc/s320/n1411413197_30361779_5248919.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644905504161483266" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6407108339024693472?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6407108339024693472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/jean-baker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6407108339024693472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6407108339024693472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/jean-baker.html' title='Jean Baker :)'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k9z_0fH5i0g/Tla7peYxSgI/AAAAAAAABJQ/-5KoLxpf3Hc/s72-c/n1411413197_30361779_5248919.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8210085500762078067</id><published>2011-06-07T07:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T08:21:31.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dilemma</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Airplane vs Driving to DC&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ileyana is horrible in airplanes. The thing that makes us want it, is that it is SO much faster. Driving is much slower, but cheaper. Ileyana doesn't do great in a car, but she's strapped down and can actually sleep. Both are stressful in their own ways and with just Jon and I as the drivers, it could be a little tiring. It would be nice to have our car there, then if we need Jon can drive the Schwarzmann's extra one and I can have ours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Okay. I think that's pretty much the gist of everything. So...opinions? Suggestions? Solutions? Teleportation equation??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8210085500762078067?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8210085500762078067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/dilemma.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8210085500762078067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8210085500762078067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/dilemma.html' title='Dilemma'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8646471732583267751</id><published>2011-06-05T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-05T11:05:08.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeff and Andrea</title><content type='html'>So this weekend I went to Arizona to go to my brother in law Jeff's graduation from Med School from A.T. Still University. I am constantly impressed by his work ethic and his ability to give up so much sleep to be able to take on this amazing challenge. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Andrea and Jeff didn't wait until after Med school to have kids. They now have 3 children which they have done very well at making into wonderful kids. Andrea has supported Jeff almost flawlessly for all these years. She's had her hard times, but in the end she is always there for him. During his rotations he was gone so incredibly much and she has 2 kids and was pregnant with the third, at home alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luckily, the university recognized this heroic act on her part. Each year 1 wife get's the "supportive wife" award. Each school only gets one award. This award went to my spectacular sister. I am so proud to have Jeff and Andrea in my life and am so proud of their accomplishments. I am excited that they are going to Residency only 2 hours from my in laws in DC. Visiting them will be much easier since we go to DC every summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Congratulations to Jeff and Andrea and their step towards the next phase in life. I have no doubt they will do amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8646471732583267751?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8646471732583267751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/jeff-and-andrea.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8646471732583267751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8646471732583267751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/06/jeff-and-andrea.html' title='Jeff and Andrea'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1082906249778730423</id><published>2011-05-30T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:13:57.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ranting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So we have had issues with our apartment many times. As every apartment has issues. When we first moved in Jon did a lot of work to make it more to our liking. The only thing we couldn't do was fix the kitchen. It's twice as small as the other apartments here and they also have washer/dryer hookups that they can use, which we don't. They have room for a table, a back door, more counter space, cupboards  and don't have to deal with the incessant noise of people doing laundry. Sometimes they get off-balanced and because they can't hear it, we get to hear the banging of the washer and feel too weird to balance someone else's laundry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Enter the new frustration:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JGwmL3elwY/TeRZdMyULKI/AAAAAAAAAyA/X8Omb7gR1RM/s1600/IMG_6017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FkbcIAjc4sA/Tla7CFUw2QI/AAAAAAAABJI/3bOeyece14o/s320/IMG_6017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644904827418892546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;See the new dishwasher? Great right? Nope. Our fridge used to be where the dishwasher was and we USED to have a table that fit in the kitchen.  And the dishwasher doesn't actually hook up the normal way. We have to hook it up to the sink. Hence the rearranging of the kitchen. So now our table is in the frontroom, our fridge is in an awkward spot, we have a dishwasher that pretty much bites and...we are trying to move.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This apartment has been more hassle than it's worth. And we pay the same rent as everyone else!!!! How is this fair you ask? It's not. And i'm grumpy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JGwmL3elwY/TeRZdMyULKI/AAAAAAAAAyA/X8Omb7gR1RM/s1600/IMG_6017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1082906249778730423?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1082906249778730423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/ranting.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1082906249778730423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1082906249778730423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/ranting.html' title='Ranting'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FkbcIAjc4sA/Tla7CFUw2QI/AAAAAAAABJI/3bOeyece14o/s72-c/IMG_6017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5875847278298958070</id><published>2011-05-10T19:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:12:52.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ABC's</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I got this from my friend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://yourstrulydear.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Jess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. So I thought i'd do it because...i'm bored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ge: 21. That's sad to admit. I feel older&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;B&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ed Size: Queen with a King memory foam mattress topper. It hangs over the sides kind of stupidly. Haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;hore you hate: The bathroom. Pretty much everything about cleaning it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ssential start of your day: Use bathroom, brush teeth then go get Ileyana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;avorite Color: Pink and Green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;G&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;old or silver: Silver. I don't like Gold. And I don't think I have the skin tone for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;eight: 5'4"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;nstruments I play (or have played): Have: Trumpet, Do: VERY minimal piano. I shouldn't count piano because of how minimal it is, but I hope to get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ob Title: As Ileyana says, "Mom-om?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;K&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ids: One ridiculously gorgeous and fun daughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ive: Why yes, I am living. Nah, I'm in Provo. Very excited to move back east or international one day though! I have a yearn for travel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;om’s Name: Sherrie. With an "ie" everyone spells her name wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ickname: Emmy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;et Peeve: I have many of them. So deciding to put just one up here would offend my other pet peeves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;uote from a movie: "I could get used to a view like this! Wait...yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle"-Flynn Rider. Tangled. Did you really expect any other movie from me? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ight or left handed: Right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;iblings: 4 sisters, 2 brothers, 3 in-laws, 3 step brothers of Jon's and some people close as sibling. Yep. We are bunnies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ime you wake up: Somewhere between 6:30 and 8:30. I wake up with my Ily alarm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;U&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;nderwear: [uhn-der-wair]-noun- clothing worn next to the skin under outer clothes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;egetables you dislike: Hm...i'm pretty open with trying things. I thought I didn't like cauliflower, then Papa steamed some and it was great. So I don't know. Probably brusselsprouts. Even the name sounds gross.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;hat makes you run late: A fine combination or Ileyana and a severe lack of desire to do anything sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;X&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;-rays you’ve had done: Let's see...head, teeth, wrists and hands, foot when I broke it and i'm sure other ones I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ummy food you make: emmyseatery.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Z&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;oo animal: Oh! Penguins. And Otters. And Elephants. And Lion. And Tigers. And Bears...oh my...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(75, 71, 85); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And in light of the alphabet, I want &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/geek-kids/1-3-years/b78f/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;these&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; for Ileyana. Awesome right? Also &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/geek-kids/1-3-years/cef9/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; so if anyone wants to get us a present...there's an idea. ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5875847278298958070?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5875847278298958070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/abcs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5875847278298958070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5875847278298958070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/abcs.html' title='ABC&apos;s'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-442048308667991162</id><published>2011-05-08T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:12:28.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Okay...so this Mother's Day was...exhausting. To say the least. We woke up at 7:45 (after going to bed at like midnight) to head to the airport. Our flight left around 10:30ish from Washington Dulles Airport. You wanna know where it went? California. Long Beach California. Yep. 5 and a half to 6 hours of sucky flight time with a daughter who doesn't travel well. I think this time went slightly better than most. We watched Tangled for a bit, had a full aisle to ourselves, fought sleep desperately, had a lot of unhealthy plane food and somehow survived until California.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hour layover in that airport was weird. It was like large trailers and they were all outside. We actually exited the plane outside as well. It was kind of fun! Then we go from California to Salt Lake and had some delightful other kids sitting next to us which made it way easier! Ileyana loved the other kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't remember which flight she napped on...maybe both. I should remember. My brain is so melted into mush right now though. So we landed in Salt Lake at 5:30. So we leave our Condo in DC at 8, land here at 5:30...2 hours time difference...11 hours. 11 hours of airports, Munchies brand chips, Apple juice and confinement to get to Salt Lake. That doesn't even include our hour trip back home to Provo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After we got home we were so grateful for everything!! Our small apartment(shorter distance to walk,) our delicious beef that we had for dinner, Ileyana's bed, our bed, our pretty couch, pretty much everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yes, this has been an odd mothers day. A little sad that I missed church today, the actual celebration, the waiting on me hand and foot (I guess the the flight attendants did that,) flowers and such, but coming home to our apartment made me real happy. We have honestly created a home. And you never realize it until you leave for a bit. It will be hard to leave for half the summer, it will totally be worth it though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Mothers Day to all the women in my life that I love so much. Especially those who have helped me be who I am today. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-442048308667991162?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/442048308667991162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/442048308667991162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/442048308667991162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mothers Day?'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8651513516440848510</id><published>2011-05-07T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:12:05.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DC</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that being married to Jon has brought me so many blessings. 2 I would like to share right now are these:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Grandma Lee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b5t5Ryrd0Vo/TcX5IHfxeMI/AAAAAAAAAwg/847ZMJzm3mU/s1600/IMG_5944.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-97_Bje1jbPY/Tla6jXAXO7I/AAAAAAAABJA/42PuCxRVRxY/s320/IMG_5944.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644904299589221298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This wonderful woman is always looking out for us. Making sure we don't go down any dangerous steps, making sure we are fed (sometimes overfed), have something to drink and to make sure we are just plain happy. She is such a sweet woman and I am so grateful to be a part of her life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Papa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-24Wnez8yCL4/Tla6i-Mv4XI/AAAAAAAABI4/j_FFRyh69WQ/s320/IMG_5924.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644904292930281842" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OP0ia6ZBMFU/TcX5H-MIhlI/AAAAAAAAAwY/dVX7WBo6D08/s1600/IMG_5924.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Why is this a picture of his back you ask? I will tell you. He may be slow, but he sure knows how to avoid a camera lens. So anyway, this is Papa. This trip he and I have gotten to know each other really well. I won't go into background stories, but let's just say that I am amazed that for 1. He is still alive and kicking and 2. That he made it out of his life with such a surprisingly upbeat attitude. With so many responsibilities I am glad that he made time to get to know me. He loves Ileyana SO much and is very proud that she has red hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There is so much more I could say about this phenomenal couple, but time does not permit me to do so. I am just so glad I married into such a phenomenal family :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8651513516440848510?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8651513516440848510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/dc.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8651513516440848510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8651513516440848510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/dc.html' title='DC'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-97_Bje1jbPY/Tla6jXAXO7I/AAAAAAAABJA/42PuCxRVRxY/s72-c/IMG_5944.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6459888545498147748</id><published>2011-05-04T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T10:48:57.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So much to do, so i'm blogging.</title><content type='html'>So Jon and I are going to be in DC from end of June-ish to end of August-ish. As such, that requires a lot of prep. Cleaning the Condo we are staying in, making the room Ileyana will stay in "child friendly," and stocking it with all the things we will need such as food and other things we don't want to lug all the way out here when we fly out again. At first I was thinking that wouldn't be that big of a deal. Turns out, it take a lot of effort. Jon's grandparents were about half moved in here when they decided to not move in...so...that leaves us half in their way. Haha! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I vacuumed everything upstairs today and picked up a bit. The guest bedroom is organized in anticipation for some awesome people to come visit...Seriously. You know who you are. Visit us...please. Anyway, so that room is pretty much done. Now we just need to move some furniture in Ileyana's room around to make it more livable, find somewhere for her clothes to go, clean all showers and tubs, clean the balcony off and organize the kitchen to fit food when we go and get it. This sounds like a lot to me. Granted I know that not all of it will get done, but these are the things I would like to get done before we come back. I don't want to have to worry about all that later. Might as well get as much done as we possibly can now. Less stress later! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously though, I am SO excited to come stay here for that long! I will miss some of our friends, especially those ones who will be moving very far away around the time we get back. Especially Jordan and Kristin...you guys make us want to cry with how much we will miss you. Jon won't admit it, but i'm sure he will tear up a bit at the thought of a 3 year long tradition of movie night with Jordan stopping. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, that's where my brains at right now. And now just because I love when people actually comment on my blog, let me end with a question:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is your favorite place that you have visited or want to visit?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I think so far mine would have to be visited: DC and Ocean City, want to visit: England and Italy)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6459888545498147748?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6459888545498147748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-much-to-do-so-im-blogging.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6459888545498147748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6459888545498147748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-much-to-do-so-im-blogging.html' title='So much to do, so i&apos;m blogging.'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7545696049200691386</id><published>2011-05-01T18:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:10:08.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Tangled up..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;10 reasons why Tangled is the best Princess movie:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;1*They waited years to get married&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;2*It wasn't "love at first sight." Though it was fast, they at least knew each other a little first&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;3*Pascal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;4*You can't beat a Zachary Levi and Mandy Moore combination&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;5*She doesn't wear shoes throughout the whole movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;6*She uses her hair as a rope. She may as well be a Princess cowgirl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;7*Showed that some thug looking people are awesome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;8*Although Rapunzel is in a "Prison," she takes the man captive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;9*She uses a frying pan for a weapon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;10*There's a "Horse-Dog"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Now these are just some of the off-the-top-of-my-head answers. Please feel free to share your reason why Tangled is phenomenal! Any negative comments may result on expulsion from our lives. Sorry. It just has to be that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VQLSOvQeRDk/Tla6G3qUUHI/AAAAAAAABIw/ckbcU6RBfXM/s320/tangled.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644903810138919026" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7545696049200691386?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7545696049200691386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/tangled-up-intangled.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7545696049200691386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7545696049200691386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/05/tangled-up-intangled.html' title='All Tangled up..'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VQLSOvQeRDk/Tla6G3qUUHI/AAAAAAAABIw/ckbcU6RBfXM/s72-c/tangled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-2831374615937619914</id><published>2011-04-30T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T16:18:46.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Traveling...</title><content type='html'>Okay...so...DC. Love it. Traveling here SUCKS!! So we booked a red eye that left at 11:38. And it was delayed an hour. Ileyana took a nap at 5ish for maybe an hour that day. Actually the same time Jon took a nap. It's never thrown Ily off before. Yep...this time it did. When we boarded the plane she was just starting to get sleepy. The flight could have gone worse, but wasn't great by any means. I was sitting straight up and Ileyana just kept flip flopping every which way, always at an awkward spot on my lap and it was impossible to sleep.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to JFK in New York around 6:50 eastern time. I was going on almost 24 hours with no sleep and Jon was pretty much the same. So at the airport she just wanted to roam and play but only wanted mom. On the plane she slept with daddy and I got about an hour or so nap. We went back to Jon's dads house when we got to DC to try and sleep. Didn't work as well as we would have hoped unfortunately. Ileyana was just mad and awake. More the mad part. And we didn't bring her pack and play, hoping she would just do well on a mattress. Didn't like that idea. So finally at 6:30 she went down. Not sure if it was for bed or for a nap. I'll take it though. I think Jon, Ily and I are all so exhausted, we will take whatever we can get. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for my internal clock, I think right now I have been hitting snooze for a day and a half. So it has no idea what the heck is going on, or what time it is. So...bring on the week. I can do it...right? :S&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-2831374615937619914?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/2831374615937619914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/traveling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2831374615937619914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2831374615937619914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/traveling.html' title='Traveling...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8552321024985966770</id><published>2011-04-29T10:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:07:44.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Well today we watched my friends kids. A boy close to Ileyana's age and then a girl about a year younger. At first Owen was pretty scared of us. Once I pulled out a puzzle he realized we are awesome. Sadie actually didn't like me at all. She preferred Jon. Such a girl. :) So really, the 2 hours we watched them weren't too bad. Ileyana and Owen loved playing together, Owen would share his food with her, and Owen was great at making sure Sadie was taken care of. A good trio if you ask me. It made me realize something though, Ileyana needs a while before having siblings. I'm sure when we do get pregnant again, it will be great and she will adjust, she just doesn't seem ready to share her space, toys, house, mom or even food yet. I know that Jon and I are certainly not ready!All 3 kids just attacking the toys&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QfZFgEXKyHk/Tla5bs_J0HI/AAAAAAAABIg/AzPbiPuhrI8/s320/IMG_5842.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644903068539146354" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Seriously, they were adorable. I loved it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--CzpuFBoNtI/Tla5b1QxkhI/AAAAAAAABIo/WcKgbidPfoA/s320/IMG_5848.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644903070760538642" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, packing will not finish itself! So I shall go and do that. And I know this may not LOOK too impressive, but to me, it's awesome. We have Our sunscreen, Ily's sunscreen, face wash and moisturizer, aloe vera(which Ily helped me write), Shampoo, Conditioner, Body wash and Ileyana's bath stuff. All in under 3.4 oz containers. Yep. I'm awesome. Now I just need to get hairspray and i'm set!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6z9qzu6WI_w/Tla5bE3RNEI/AAAAAAAABIY/xFwZLeToDjA/s320/IMG_5836.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644903057768657986" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, wish us luck on our flight at 11:38...tonight. *Puke* This should be interesting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8552321024985966770?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8552321024985966770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8552321024985966770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8552321024985966770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QfZFgEXKyHk/Tla5bs_J0HI/AAAAAAAABIg/AzPbiPuhrI8/s72-c/IMG_5842.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5201551899879982642</id><published>2011-04-27T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T19:33:15.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Question again?</title><content type='html'>I really liked posing a question in my last post. So I think I shall do the same. Kind of just get the views of my friends and family out there. :) So today's question...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Favorite meal to make/eat. (If it is make, please include recipe.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Drop a comment below! I'm excited to hear your answers!! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5201551899879982642?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5201551899879982642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/question-again.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5201551899879982642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5201551899879982642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/question-again.html' title='Question again?'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7609466537782907945</id><published>2011-04-25T20:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:04:41.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids?</title><content type='html'>This post is more for just opinions. Jon and I want to space our kids 3-4 years apart. I don't want to get pregnant every year and I personally think 2 years is too close for our taste. Since we started so young that is a possibility for us. Now I don't want you to tell everyone else why they are wrong. Just your opinions. How far apart do you want your kids and how many do you want? Reasons? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4 kids, 3-4 years apart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7609466537782907945?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7609466537782907945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/kids.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7609466537782907945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7609466537782907945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/kids.html' title='Kids?'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5816620368905501450</id><published>2011-04-24T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T14:03:35.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2 years and counting! :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Well, today is Jon and my 2 year anniversary. Met in January, proposed in March, married in April. 3 days before our wedding Jon had me take him to the hospital as he had a terrible ear infection. The day of our wedding he was there, just a little bit loopy as he was on some pretty heavy pain killers. (Looking back, did I have him drive that day? I hope not. Haha!) That was the first day we vowed to love each other for life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34QXGd1pzfI/Tla4aoC08lI/AAAAAAAABIQ/xBsyJzzNaDg/s320/n1411413197_30361729_5755374.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644901950520881746" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our first anniversary couldn't be topped. One year from the day we got married, we were able to be sealed in the LDS Provo temple for time and all eternity. Best day ever. Being able to bring our beautiful daughter to the temple with us so we could make a promise to each other, our child and the Lord, made my whole life brighter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vcFPyuJxu_g/Tla4acr25xI/AAAAAAAABII/Bvq_ay6kzEU/s320/sealing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644901947471750930" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now, 2 years and 4 months after we met, I am even more in love with him than I was then. We have had some hard times, life isn't always perfect. Yet it is being able to work through those hard times and still appreciate each other for who we are that makes life bearable. He is the first thing I wake up to in the morning and the last thing I see at night. And what a wonderful sight it is :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So grateful for my family and the spouse of mine that made it possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5816620368905501450?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5816620368905501450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/2-years-and-counting.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5816620368905501450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5816620368905501450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/2-years-and-counting.html' title='2 years and counting! :)'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34QXGd1pzfI/Tla4aoC08lI/AAAAAAAABIQ/xBsyJzzNaDg/s72-c/n1411413197_30361729_5755374.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3152439564912965743</id><published>2011-04-21T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:05:01.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Common Misconception</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jon and I love to watch movies. Maybe more than we should, but we love it. We are picky about out movies. Things we do not allow:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Stupid/boring movies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Movies high on sexual content&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Movies with a lot of swearing or blood&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Zombies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jon is more okay with the swearing and blood than I am, and the Zombie thing is just me. Sorry babe :) The thing that I wanted to blog about tonight was to correct some people on their errors. Rated R movies do not mean that they are filled with people gettin jiggy on screen, tons of F words and peoples heads always being chopped off. Yes there are many movies that are in that category. There are also the few phenomenal Rated R movies, that when at an appropriate age(16+), I would love to watch with my kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Fall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Set in the 1920's. A little girl, Alexandria, is recovering from a broken arm and she befriends a stunt man with paralyzed legs. At her request, he tells her a story. The reason this is Rated R is because there is some blood, and a few scenes that are a little too intense. But if I can handle it, really, you'll be just fine. And this film is the most BEAUTIFUL thing I have ever seen. They filmed in over &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0460791/locations"&gt;20 countries&lt;/a&gt;. To ensure the beauty of the film. And it shows.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Slumdog Millionaire&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;A boy from Mumbai is on Who wants to Be a Millionaire and arrested because he "knew too much" and must be cheating. So he tells his life story of why he knows so much. I will admit some parts of this is rather intense. It is the intensity that pulls at you though. The things this boy went through are amazing. I would certainly recommend this movie.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;127 Hours&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;In all honesty, I didn't watch this movie, nor have the desire to do so. I can't really do blood. Or someone cutting their arm off. Yet this honestly happened to a man. My husband and many friends watched it, and I see nothing wrong with it in the least. As long as you can stomach blood. (Haha, that sounded funny.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So ya, Rated R movies aren't always great, but some of them can be pretty darn amazing. It bugs me that some people won't even look something up or watch a trailer because it is Rated R. The rating won't bite you. If you look it up on IMDB and something on there makes you uncomfortable, that's fine. If you are just not watching it because of the rating, I find that just silly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3152439564912965743?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3152439564912965743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/common-misconception.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3152439564912965743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3152439564912965743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/common-misconception.html' title='Common Misconception'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6783267518482462146</id><published>2011-04-20T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:04:30.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zumba at home!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So today I tried very briefly, Zumba on the PS3 move. It was amazing!!! I know that many people love going to the classes, and I agree. I love the energy and everything about it. Unfortunately, I don't think I can justify 20 or more dollars a month. So getting the one time $40, sounds pretty appealing. So that was one of my birthday presents. It has a little belt thing to velcro on and a little pocket on your hip to put the move controller.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You got to move, hands free (minus Ileyana at times,) and still get a great workout. Even starting on the easiest level, it was pretty spectacular!  I am really looking forward to doing this more often. Maybe i'll be able to lose some extra baby fat that I haven't lost yet! Next time I just need to remember to sign in to my own account instead of Jon's. Oh well. I only did 2 dances on his, so it's not like I really will be missing out on much. Easily made up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So really, I am just stoked to be able to tone up and lose some unwanted side pudge. I will also have to do my own ab workout, but after the fabulous Zumba class I took, I learned the most awesome stuff to do at home. Oh, and also, we have another controller, so someone could join me! I only have one belt, but i'm sure something else is able to be fashioned well enough to work. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6783267518482462146?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6783267518482462146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/zumba-at-home.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6783267518482462146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6783267518482462146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/zumba-at-home.html' title='Zumba at home!!!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5490721704084195463</id><published>2011-04-15T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:04:07.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Change of Plans. You surprised? ;)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So I have been thinking all this morning. I have switched majors so many times that some of my majors were only a blip on the radar. I'm sure many people have similar experiences with that. I pick most my majors because it's something I enjoy mildly. I never felt the need to be realistic because I knew that my husband would be providing for our family. I also never stopped to realize that I needed to be realistic to myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love to sing, but I go in waves of loving it and just doing it because I know I'm decent enough at it to keep going. Last night though, made me realize something. I have always loved dancing. I love being active and staying fit. So I was thinking maybe I should go into some sort of Physical Education. After thinking that I felt so great. Not like the "great, I finally picked a major," but the, "great, I feel so awesome about this." I have never really felt that before. It's a great feeling. This is something our whole family can enjoy. Everyone will always want to stay in shape. Jobs will always be available. And that's something I will would enjoy for a very long time. Maybe it would help me live longer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And it's not that my other majors I have picked in the past aren't as great, I just never found that thing that made me as happy as this one did. So let's hope for the best! Thanks to Zumba for helping me realize how much I loved working out. I am very content with life right now :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5490721704084195463?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5490721704084195463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/change-of-plans-you-surprised.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5490721704084195463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5490721704084195463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/change-of-plans-you-surprised.html' title='Change of Plans. You surprised? ;)'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6572719856882114231</id><published>2011-04-14T21:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T21:18:28.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zumba</title><content type='html'>Okay, this is me, jumping on the bandwagon. ZUMBA IS FREAKING AMAZING!!!!! I love it so much. I was kind of nervous to go, I haven't honestly worked out...in a very long time. I was shocked at how fast it came back to me. And the mix of latin dance and workout, Phenomenal!! So I am either going to start going regularly or buy the PS3 move version. I would rather go to the class, but the game would be SOO much cheaper in the long run. We'll see. As of now. Zumba is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6572719856882114231?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6572719856882114231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/zumba.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6572719856882114231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6572719856882114231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/zumba.html' title='Zumba'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8538376378253612786</id><published>2011-04-12T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:03:12.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WAFFLE CRISP!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So Tevan texts Jon, "Are ya'll up?" Jon was putting Ileyana back to sleep so I texted back that we were. Like 10 minutes later guess what was on our doorstep?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qGTb0IGlwUE/TlXXftufQeI/AAAAAAAABIA/kPlmErCl3So/s320/IMG_5780.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644654647829283298" /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When we went to St George I found this cereal. I had been looking for it forever and it is SO hard to find. So I told her if she ever wanted to make me real happy to get me this :) Don't hide it Ris Ratliff. I know it was you. I know that handwriting anywhere!! :) Seriously though, I have the best friends. Ever. It's even better when they marry awesome people who make their epicness continue to be epic. And epicness is a word. I say so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Anyway. Great night. Great friends. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8538376378253612786?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8538376378253612786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/waffle-crisp.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8538376378253612786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8538376378253612786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/waffle-crisp.html' title='WAFFLE CRISP!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qGTb0IGlwUE/TlXXftufQeI/AAAAAAAABIA/kPlmErCl3So/s72-c/IMG_5780.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-144004032658554210</id><published>2011-04-11T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T21:18:45.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bah!</title><content type='html'>*Sigh* So I know that I look young. I get that. Sometimes though...it goes a bit overboard. Tonight at 7-11. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Checkout guy: "Your sister is so cute!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Thank you, but this is actually my daughter."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Checkout guy: "Wow! Seriously? How old are you anyway?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: *Sigh* "21."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Checkout guy: "I did not see that one. Cool."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BAH! I am young. I got married young. And I am happy. I am &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; in high school. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;AM&lt;/span&gt; old enough to drive. I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;AM&lt;/span&gt; old enough to have a kid. I should &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; be considered younger than 20. I will love to be considered my own age. Yes, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;ONE DAY&lt;/span&gt; I will appreciate that. Clearly, today is not that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-144004032658554210?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/144004032658554210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/bah.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/144004032658554210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/144004032658554210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/bah.html' title='Bah!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3037424601198536645</id><published>2011-04-08T21:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T22:01:00.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So today I slept in until 9:30, we went to Mother Goose time at the library then came home and Ileyana took a nap. Not too exciting. Jon got home, we relaxed for a bit, then at 5:30 we went shopping at Target for some clothes and a few other birthday items.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay. This starts my epic happy birthday. On the way to drop Ileyana off at Ris's (who was taking her for the night,) Jon told Ily to say "google." And she did! Flawlessly! Like 15 times. So fun! After that we went to the mall for an undershirt and some really cute shoes. Went home for about half an hour before dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously guys, if you know me at all, you will know how amazingly perfect this dinner was for me. We go to Gloria's Little Italy and they seat us. And you know who happened to be there? The accordion player from Ottavios!!!! Oh my gosh. So we talked to him for about 5 minutes, he played us a German song that we wished Jon's papa could hear. He is a very proud german and this guy is amazing! He started playing when he was 6 and it shows! He showed us middle C and explained a bit about how he played. We ordered our delicious tortellini. Right after that he played Bella Notte to another couple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our food came and I realized I ordered the wrong sauce. :( Jon got the right one. So he switched with me so I could have the one I wanted. When it came time for dessert we were debating and our waiter had previously asked why we were there, so he brought us a free huge slice of cake. Not only that, he brought the accordion player and 4 other servers to sing &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/courtneycrabtree#p/a/u/1/-omZl44cyr4"&gt;Best Wishes&lt;/a&gt; to me in Italian!!!!!!! (That is actually him on that link. So go there. Just imagine 5 other guys singing with him.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So for those of you who are wondering why this is so epic look &lt;a href="http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/10/21st-birthday.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also loved that almost any time I looked over Jon was looking at me with the most romantic and adorable eyes in the world. Except when he asked if he could stab me in the eye. (hehe) So all in all. BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And it's not even over! We have an amazing birthday party tomorrow with some friends! Ris, Tevan, Jon and &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DX8-B_IoKZM"&gt;Keith Lewis&lt;/a&gt;, you made my birthday phenomenal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;New Shoes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaXsK2VS4DQ/TlXW8N5FO7I/AAAAAAAABH4/mPzXiAVBrBI/s320/IMG_5760.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644654037988359090" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;PS. You should comment on my blog. It would make me feel SO great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3037424601198536645?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3037424601198536645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/best-birthday-ever.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3037424601198536645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3037424601198536645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/best-birthday-ever.html' title='BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaXsK2VS4DQ/TlXW8N5FO7I/AAAAAAAABH4/mPzXiAVBrBI/s72-c/IMG_5760.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5579461868732941060</id><published>2011-04-07T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:59:15.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 21st Birthday!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So years ago I always knew what I would be doing on my 21st birthday. Single and partying. I had every step of the day planned out. I just wanted a huge deal, lots of presents, and all night with friends and stuff. Now as I am looking at the clock, and it is 2 minutes from my birthday. I am thinking what I am doing on my 21st birthday, and what I will do to celebrate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Right now I am drinking Apple Juice and watching The Office. Jon went to bed at about 10:30. Tomorrow morning I will sleep in while Jon gets Ileyana, I will then get up, pick up the house a little, do some laundry to pass time, Jon will go to school and...Ileyana and I will just spend the day together until he gets back. Then Ris and Tevan are going to take Ileyana for the night. Saturday we are going to have a party that Jon and Ris are throwing for me with some friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To be honest, I love this birthday so much more. I am so thrilled to have a husband and daughter to celebrate with me. I can't imagine a better birthday celebration. Happy Birthday to me :) This year will be great!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5579461868732941060?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5579461868732941060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-21st-birthday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5579461868732941060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5579461868732941060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-21st-birthday.html' title='My 21st Birthday!!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-947630298218548347</id><published>2011-04-04T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:58:54.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>21 years</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;Okay, so this is my 200th blog post. I wanted to do something special. So maybe I will do this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;21 things I've accomplished before turning 21 (on April 8th)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;1. Graduated high school&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;2. Learned to live on my own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;3. Learned to manage money(ish) while living on my own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;4. Held a wide variety of jobs over the years&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;5. Endured some very difficult times that have made me strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;6. Brought Tina and Jared into my life in the most amazing way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;7. Stuck with my religion even though it's been hard at times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;8. Learned to stand up for myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;9. Figured out how to dress a lot better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;10. Developed and kept a love for the arts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;11. Kept decent credit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;12. Had some pretty wonderful friends over the years&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;13. Developed the want and need to be considerate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;14. Learned to enjoy serving others&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;15. Received the blessing of the most amazing inlaws I could ask for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;16. Met and dated the most wonderful man in the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;17. Married that same man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;18. Got pregnant with Ileyana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;19. Gave birth and started to raise Ileyana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;20. Learned to become a mother and wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;21. Stayed sane for past 21 years and have plans to do so a lot longer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CCFF;"&gt;All in all, I surely do love my life. I think I really lucked out on how my cards have fallen. I have such a wonderful and blessed life and couldn't imagine anything better. I know I have my rough days, but all in all, life is pretty great!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-947630298218548347?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/947630298218548347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/21-years.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/947630298218548347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/947630298218548347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/04/21-years.html' title='21 years'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-512387969737322846</id><published>2011-03-30T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:58:02.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter/Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I surely do love Easter. Not only does it represent a significant part of my religion, it also brings phenomenal and unhealthy candy to our midst! Here are my top 5 picks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Starburst Jellybeans, I delicious classic. I actually don't like a lot of Jellybeans. These are so good though! So they deserve the number one spot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Number 2 would have to be Reese's egg. There is something even more delicious about Reese's being shaped like a Chicken's unborn baby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Palmer brand(?) makes these incredibly delicious little coins. One of them has peanut butter and chocolate in them. Oh my heavens it is so delicious. I think it ties for number 2, but i'll put it at number 3 because I don't like the other kinds AS much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Mini eggs. Yum. Sometimes the texture bugs me, but these are so good. So number 4 on my list!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Number 5. These creme eggs are my dad's favorite. I enjoy them as well, just not as much as dad does. They still deserve the list though!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't think I forgot any of my favorites. Another thing I love to do at Easter is get stuff for my family. I like to put in a toothbrush, a toy, some candy and then maybe another trinket or two. This year Easter is on Jon and my Anniversary! It makes it doubley special! Before then though is...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;MY BIRTHDAY!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am turing 21. (Young, I know.) I think it will be a great though. I'm stoked! Jon and Ris are already hatching a plan for it :) I think with all the cake ideas i've given jon though, he's a little overwhelmed. I know I want a Vanilla cake with Vanilla frosting with the Red Jelly in the middle. Then I want something cool on top. That is where I give Jon all the ideas. Like something from Avatar ("Birthday Slice!"), Princess's, Ily, I don't know really. Just something awesome! Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy your day! And drop a comment below to give me warm fuzzies!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-512387969737322846?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/512387969737322846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/easterbirthday.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/512387969737322846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/512387969737322846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/easterbirthday.html' title='Easter/Birthday'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3414167606552726435</id><published>2011-03-28T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T19:32:52.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>So this weekend was fun. Jon drove Ileyana and I to SLC to Tiana's house (my sister) and we drove to Idaho to visit my family. They are a very loud bunch of folks, I thoroughly enjoyed it though. Tiana and I talked a lot, which was awesome AND my daughter said her first sentence! It would be so much cooler if I remembered her exact words, something to the effect of "Come here Doggies" or "Doggies come play." She really loved those dogs.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would blog about what we did and everything but i'm tired. So let's stick to the highlights. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Tiana coming with me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Ileyana being adorable&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Texas Roadhouse Rolls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Haircut and first real Pedi/Mani&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Family dinner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Ileyana's coat pants&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The kids playing with Ileyana so great&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Parental talks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the number one:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Aaron and Eric playing catch with a 14 pound bowling ball. At one point one of the kids was "dodging" it. I took a turn. Apparently they aren't as careful when I'm in the middle as when the kids are ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3414167606552726435?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3414167606552726435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/weekend.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3414167606552726435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3414167606552726435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7316090707736201172</id><published>2011-03-23T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:56:58.568-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*Insert witty title here*</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So tonight I went to the store with Ileyana so we could get some fruit and granola for our trip to Idaho tomorrow. While I was there I saw some Tigers Milk bars. Jon LOVES them, so I decided to grab a few of the peanut butter &amp;amp; honey ones for him. Well Ileyana wanted to hold one so I let her hold on to it while I walked around the store. When I went to the checkout she still wouldn't let go. Got outside and in the car, still holding on for dear life. Then about half way home she handed it to me and made her "Huhh?" noise, asking me to open it for her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She doesn't branch out in food. We have tried so much. We've gotten bananas and noodles that are out of the normal. So it's a start. So her wanting this was very different. Oh well. I opened it for her, and by the time we got home she had eaten probably a third of it! Then Jon bit off another third and she finished it off. It was adorable. And it's a protein bar, so I don't even feel guilty for her eating it! Yay for wins :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7316090707736201172?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7316090707736201172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/insert-witty-title-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7316090707736201172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7316090707736201172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/insert-witty-title-here.html' title='*Insert witty title here*'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3193733706762629990</id><published>2011-03-22T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:56:16.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My passion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Growing up my family was all very musical. After we got the music for The Phantom of the Opera, Aaron (brother closest to me) and I would sing together from it all the time. I remember one time singing Think of Me, I got the high note. It wasn't pure by any means. Yet it was actually decent. Mom and Aaron were both shocked beyond all reason. (Mostly because I'm a very definite Alto.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The reason I mention this now? I am so sad that my voice is so out of practice. I hate that singing for over 5 minutes actually hurts. That is just depressing. I really want to train my voice back up. Not only because I miss singing, but if I were to HONESTLY choose my own profession, I would sing at weddings. I love weddings, I love how happy the couple is, I love the kinds of songs you sing, I just love it all. So hopefully I can train my voice back up so I can get my ultimate dream :) We will see!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3193733706762629990?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3193733706762629990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-passion.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3193733706762629990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3193733706762629990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-passion.html' title='My passion'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-2705676943162764285</id><published>2011-03-19T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T21:00:31.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoyed</title><content type='html'>Okay. So I am going to rant for a minute, because I believe I have the right to. A woman gives you up for adoption. What do you call her?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Biological mom/mother&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Woman who gave birth to me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See, easy enough right? Please do not call them a "bio mom." What the heck is that anyway? It is disrespectful and sounds like some sort of robot. No, actually. It sounds like Biology. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Where ya headed Sam?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm off to bio then going home."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Biology. Bio has NEVER been short for biological. It's not cool, text talk, or even easier. It's stupid and rude. And sorry if you are offended by this, but not really. I was offended first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-2705676943162764285?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/2705676943162764285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/annoyed.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2705676943162764285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/2705676943162764285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/annoyed.html' title='Annoyed'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5293723965981480845</id><published>2011-03-17T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:55:43.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ileyana Win</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I just had a thought I wanted to share. Right now, I feel triumphant. So Ileyana, of course, isn't a  fan of nap time. She cries, whines and sometimes get out of her bed. Fail. So today we had tried once and it was a no go. The second time I did something different.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Okay Ily. You can eat your food and stay up with mommy and daddy, or go to bed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quickly grabs a cheerio with a smile. Starts to cry again a few minutes later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It's noon Ileyana. Nap time. Do you want Daddy kisses first?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Goes to give daddy a kiss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Do you want to walk to your room or have mom carry you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She walked there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jon: "Okay, crawl in your bed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She needed a little help, but got in and laid down. Granted she did cry for a minute, but now she is in her bed, taking her nap. All on "her own" terms. I am starting to learn how she thinks and what she wants out of us. Only took me almost a year and a half ;) And it probably won't stick. For now though, I win :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ug_AbFHM1i4/TlXVqZPtlwI/AAAAAAAABHw/Pds_u6BiiMc/s320/IMG_5594.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644652632286795522" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Mmm...love me some Greek yogurt mom!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ileyana is lactose intolerant, and Greek yogurt, as Jon's mother suggested, would most likely not upset her allergy. Amazingly it doesn't! And she certainly loves it as you can see! So glad Mama Baker is in my life to help me out! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5293723965981480845?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5293723965981480845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/ileyana-win.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5293723965981480845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5293723965981480845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/ileyana-win.html' title='Ileyana Win'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ug_AbFHM1i4/TlXVqZPtlwI/AAAAAAAABHw/Pds_u6BiiMc/s72-c/IMG_5594.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4928241882756912034</id><published>2011-03-16T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:53:16.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So tonight we attempted to dye my hair blonde. I've been thinking about it for a while. So...we did. Good news? Jon is an EXCELLENT hair dyer. Not even kidding you. There is not one spot that isn't dyed that i've found. It looks even and great. Bad news? Not even close to the color I was hoping for. Oh! And YES I left it in for as long as it said and YES I did everything it said. Just so I don't get any questions like that...just sayin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My hair was too dark to dye it too much lighter so i'd have to bleach it. And if you have ever heard me freak out about my hair, you would know that I am already nervous about the damage coloring can do, so the thought of bleaching makes me physically ill. If I don't cut my hair every 2 months I worry! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So ya. I guess blonde may just not really be in the cards for me at the moment. I guess I could try to highlight it or something. Maybe since this color isn't too far from my own I will just let it grow out and not worry about changing my hair color for now. We'll see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Color Before&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cxPoxyrJHOo/TlXU93dHU9I/AAAAAAAABHY/5tMcmDGPeC0/s320/IMG_5320.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644651867301958610" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Color After. (No that's not a joke)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7UFKTXhpn5k/TlXU-GV3SOI/AAAAAAAABHg/MPFqaPmuC5o/s320/IMG_5599.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644651871298078946" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Can't see it? Let me help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7v81pBoUeY0/TlXU-XuRh-I/AAAAAAAABHo/SB685Gjw5WQ/s320/IMG_5600.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644651875963865058" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is depressing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Change much? Not really. Oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4928241882756912034?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4928241882756912034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/hair.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4928241882756912034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4928241882756912034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/hair.html' title='Hair?'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cxPoxyrJHOo/TlXU93dHU9I/AAAAAAAABHY/5tMcmDGPeC0/s72-c/IMG_5320.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8790063053991439230</id><published>2011-03-13T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:47:13.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My St George weekend</title><content type='html'>So St George. Whew! We left our house Friday at 9 to pick up Caroline and Laura. Ileyana was decentish on the drive. She got pretty mad when she needed a nap, but I think we dealt with it pretty well. Did that, then got there at about 1:30 or 2. Ris and Tevan were getting pizza so we decided to go check into our hotel. We got back to the church around 3.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For Ris's reception she wanted white christmas lights strung up, which created the feeling of a very bright ceiling. There were about 30 strings of lights. Okay. So the men kind of went to town on stringing up the lights while we waiting for Ris's mom, Pam, to get back with needles. Why you ask? Because we had to get fishing wire and needles to string 1000 paper cranes (that we all folded throughout the past few weeks.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when we got the needles we were doing that. 28 cranes to a string, put a bead under each crane, secure the bead there by putting the fishing wire through twice...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It took a while. So then Ris and Tevan decided they were starving so after having to pretty much push them out because they keep getting distracted, they finally left. I walk over by one of the cables that happened to be holding up all the lights we just strung and adjusted to look great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Boing*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hey guys, it kind of sounded like that cable is about to snap."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Whoosh*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the lights, on the ground. Luckily they didn't break the glass center pieces, shatter and hurt everyone, or any other major disaster. Ok...put them all back up. Again. SOOOO glad Ris and Tevan had just walked out. So that kind of made for a long night. Laura made it fun though. So then at like 10:30 Laura and I go to the store (for a much needed crane break) to get Ris and Tevan some honeymoon food. (If it were me I would have just gotten a lot of munchies. Haha!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got back to the hotel at about 1, and I still needed to shower as I had a hair appointment with Laura to get our hair all curly and stuff at 9:15. Did that, and crashed. Ily woke up at 3 and I was able to get her back to sleep fast. So that wasn't too bad. Woke up at 7 because Ileyana woke up, then when the time came, Jon drove us all to our hair appointment and while we were there he drove Caroline, who came with us to watch Ileyana to the store to get a dress because i'm stupid and forgot to tell her we wanted her at the reception. (Emily fail.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that just started a day of a LOT of back and forth. More for poor Jon than anyone else. They were getting married at 2 so Laura dropped Jon and I off at the temple at about 1 and we waited. I actually saw a guy I knew from Centennial Apartments when I lived there, his wife was Ris's cousin. Small world eh? Ris's brother came in about 10 minutes late to the sealing. Oops! It all worked out though. Poor Ris was trying not to cry so she didn't ruin her make up, but she's getting married, she was so stinking happy how could she not?! It ruin it at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the temple we were taking pictures outside. Ok. Get back into bridesmaids dress, put on all accessories and wait outside. All the bridesmaids had their bouquets (SO pretty) then waited. They came out, we got pictures, which brings us to about 4. The time for the luncheon. Ily was with us at the temple and was rather angry so Jon took Caroline back to the hotel and we went to the luncheon. Food. Yum. I made the mistake of taking my shoes off, which meant I wasn't wearing them the rest of the night. Haha! Laura was right. Silly me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We go back to the hotel after the luncheon with plans to sleep until the reception. Ily gets the want to play. Ok. So I took her out in the hall so poor Laura and Caroline could sleep. So while we are here Jon has to go the store. For what? 5 goldfish, whipped cream and red lacey panties. While having a whole bunch of balloons in his car. People probably thought he was nuts!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We get to the reception right when it starts at 7. And...I don't know. Reception stuff happened. We ate delicious cupcakes and cake bites. Seriously, wow. I had a peanut butter cupcake and a rainbow chip bite and that is all I want to eat now. I want to live in a Peanut Butter Cupcake house and have Rainbow Chip furniture. That is how great it was. Jon was still running back and forth for stuff. Poor guy was driving all day. I danced while Caroline chased Ily and Jon sat for a minute trying not to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;End of reception. Wahoo! So we get our sparklers, send them off then Jon takes us back to the hotel to put Ily to bed. It's 10. She's exhausted. And so is Jon and Caroline. (I think I got high from all that dancing. Haha!) I realized something though. Ris has the coolest parents in the world. That is why she's so awesome. And Pam looked AMAZING! Wow. Doug was hilarious. Between them both, fantastic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Take them back, then I go back to the church to help. There wasn't much to do so really I just brought Laura her bag from the hotel so she didn't wake up Ily when she came to get it. Then I went to go back to the hotel. Haha! Did anyone know I suck at directions? Well you should. It was real easy. Go left onto the road, right at that other road and follow it for a few miles. How did I get lost. I blame sugar, lack of sleep and exhaustion. Still can't find it so I call Laura in tears asking her what to do. I go to where they are because I happened to be close and I follow them back to the hotel so I don't get lost. They were driving back that night so yes, i'm mean and made them delay their trip an extra few minutes. Sorry :S &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go to hotel. Hit pillow. Yay! Oh wait. Not yay. Ileyana woke up at like 2 and couldn't sleep. I brought her in our bed. Couldn't sleep. The whole night she woke up probably every half an hour. So come morning we are ALL really exhausted and cranky. Check out is at 11 though. So we have to leave. Oh, and time change made us have to leave earlier. Thank you world. Die.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Drive back, not too bad. Except I was so grumpy the whole time and so was Ileyana. She was able to sleep more than me. I was attempting (and failing) to keep Jon awake to drive. Got home at 2:30, and slept for 3 hours. Beautiful. Which brings me to here. Yes this is a very long blog post. That's ok. I think it perfectly displays how long the weekend was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outcome: Ris Baer is now Ris Ratliff. Most awesome thing. Ever! Totally worth it :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8790063053991439230?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8790063053991439230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-st-george-weekend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8790063053991439230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8790063053991439230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-st-george-weekend.html' title='My St George weekend'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4227330619879294545</id><published>2011-03-10T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:46:54.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So tonight we had Jon's physics buddy and his wife over for dinner. Now normally I am expecting massive amounts of awkwardness because that's just the kind of people we are. Nope. Tonight they came, ate my slightly burnt &lt;a href="http://emmyseatery.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ritz Chicken&lt;/a&gt; (cooked at the wrong temp. Oops), played with Ily and some toys, talked and left. The wife, Marie, was sweet, relaxed and I didn't feel the need to entertain. We just built up blocks and let Ileyana knock them down. Jon and Chris already got along because of Physics class. All in all, I feel like tonight was awesome. I am hoping we can expand our married friends ring. It's about time :)&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, I will be absent until Sunday. Tomorrow we head to St. George for &lt;a href="http://therealclarissaexplainsitall.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ris Baer Ratliff's&lt;/a&gt; wedding. WAHOO!! I am so excited she is getting married. And to an awesome guy who makes her happy. It's like watching my daughter get married, but not, because she's older. Seriously, she's my fake daughter. So i'm just so stinking happy. I remember after Ileyana was born, Ris would come over in the middle of the night and tell me her man woes for hours. So this is not only her dream come true, but makes me pretty thrilled as well!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, done blogging for the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4227330619879294545?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4227330619879294545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4227330619879294545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4227330619879294545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/tonight.html' title='Tonight'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6502788750710580040</id><published>2011-03-08T06:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:46:24.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Impacted</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I tend not to subscribe to the "30 Day Challenge" or other things going about facebook and the blog world. Yet I am going to take just one aspect of that and post it. There was a question on there that I thought may be fun to post about. Who has gotten you through the most? While I was thinking about that I had a really hard time bringing it down to just one person. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's start with Janeal. Growing up she and I had a very special relationship. She was my best friend. When I was a baby she taught me how to crawl out of my crib and flop on her bed so I could fall asleep with her. (One night she forgot to push the crib up to her bed. Yikes!) I tagged along on many dates with her, and even a Sun Valley trip her band went on one time! Then a few years ago she got me through a ridiculously rough time, even if I didn't always appreciate her help then. I am so grateful for her!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2XtHH2aataA/TlXTZzMEghI/AAAAAAAABHI/5cezpFA2_-4/s320/Photo%2B11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644650148169810450" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Next is Andrea and Jeff. During high school and jr high they lived down the road from me. Any time I felt lost, stressed or just needed someone to talk to they were there. Andrea would start with comforting me and then Jeff would swoop in with some great advice. (Not that Andrea didn't always give wonderful advice, but that was the usual process then.) I would stay over at their house often. They had the comfiest couch in the world. And now if I ever just need a sister to talk to, a friend to be there, she is there for me. I don't think I can even count the number of conversations we have. They are such a phenomenal couple and even better people. I can't wait until we live closer to them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RyauGpqbK-Q/TlXTZ27rEmI/AAAAAAAABHA/GfHfjycEUu8/s320/ang%2Bjeff.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644650149174776418" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Last would have to be that dynamic duo in which brings me more joy than I can even understand. Jon is my best friend, my husband, my confidant and everything else in my life. He knows everything about me and in turn tells me everything about him. He holds me when I cry, helps me know why i'm crying then makes me laugh so I can finally stop. He is the best husband I could have ever gotten. And even better, he helped bring me Ileyana. She may not know how much she does, but just having her in my life, watching her grow, holding her, having her hug me and say my name, and being the adorable little girl she is, makes me so incredibly thrilled. I am so happy I have such a wonderful little family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-luy4WbStzu8/TlXTaHWSQaI/AAAAAAAABHQ/7Zn2kx-WWCw/s320/38263_1516501869202_1134126033_1532988_8017013_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644650153581363618" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, I have some pretty awesome people in my life. There are many others that have impacted me, but these people especially have a gold star in my book. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6502788750710580040?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6502788750710580040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/impacted.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6502788750710580040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6502788750710580040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/impacted.html' title='Impacted'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2XtHH2aataA/TlXTZzMEghI/AAAAAAAABHI/5cezpFA2_-4/s72-c/Photo%2B11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1443082985577749201</id><published>2011-03-06T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:31:42.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband-isms</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that I'm Jon's wife because:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*My 7 most used words are "Let me ask Jon, he should know."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*My neck hurts from all the nodding (and not always understanding) that I do&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I watch movies and always question if their Physics is accurate and/or real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I could most likely name all of the most popular FPS's and story line games on the PS3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(I know what FPS means)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I can tell you the 3-5 best National schools for Physics and select International ones&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*If I see a TV on for 30 seconds without being active I will turn it off for fear of burn in&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I now feel the need to ask Jon if my clothes are cute, he has better fashion sense&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I can tell you a lot of random facts about a lot of random stuff. Even if I don't always know what in the world i'm talking about&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I can crank out the many unconstitutional anomalies that surround me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I now use phrases such as unconstitutional anomalies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*It is cuter to me to hear Jon playing with Ileyana than &lt;b&gt;anything&lt;/b&gt; else in the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I buy chips in multiples because I know that we don't share chips well&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I rush to the bedroom at night so he has to turn off the light&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*It now pleasures me to be in awkward situations&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I tend to subconsciously set up awkward situations for Jon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I will now call people out on their stupidity without hesitation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I laugh at people who think Blu-Ray is a phase&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I also laugh at people who think X Box is a superior system&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I watch more TV shows than...ever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*It is weird for me to call him Jon. I call him husband. Even weirder to call him Jonathan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*There are 3 Star Wars movies. Not 6&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I attempt to use The Force when i'm too lazy to move&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I truly hope Jon can invent a Light Saber&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I actually want to learn about Physics and such. It's awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I have a crush on Sheldon Cooper...and I married him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*I could most likely tell you if a PS3 controller is a knock off or not&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Overall. Being the wife of Jon, is awesome. Just so ya'll know. He makes me better, and smarter, and slightly less tolerant for stupid drivers and ignorance in general. I am thrilled to call myself Mrs. Schwarzmann. And never tire of saying that. Love you husband :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1443082985577749201?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1443082985577749201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/husband-isms.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1443082985577749201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1443082985577749201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/03/husband-isms.html' title='Husband-isms'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7590576132074299409</id><published>2011-02-28T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:31:20.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Glorious</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Want to see something really pretty?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FM83OONkC4k/TlXQDQpWCNI/AAAAAAAABG4/jfBALne6Jy8/s320/IMG_5560.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644646462405347538" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;These are my shoes for Ris's wedding. I am so excited! They are so adorable!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7590576132074299409?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7590576132074299409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/glorious.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7590576132074299409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7590576132074299409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/glorious.html' title='Glorious'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FM83OONkC4k/TlXQDQpWCNI/AAAAAAAABG4/jfBALne6Jy8/s72-c/IMG_5560.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1124828264004685302</id><published>2011-02-23T21:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T22:37:05.458-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hollywood Canteen</title><content type='html'>Judy Garland, Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, Fred Astaire, Ann Sheridan, Ava Gardner, The Marx Brothers, Barbara Stanwyck, Glenn Miller, Shirley Temple, Katherine and Audrey Hepburn, Bing Crosby, Mary Pickford, Bette Davis, Orson Welles, Marlon Brando, Jean Simmons...okay, I think that's all i can think of right now.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are all these names on my mind? I'll tell you. So tonight I was thinking about the party I want to have one day. So I researched it. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood_Canteen"&gt;Hollywood Canteen&lt;/a&gt; was a club offering food, dancing and entertainment for servicemen going overseas in WWII. They had so many amazing singers, actresses, comedy groups and well, anyone you can think of, come there to help these military men feel better. The one millionth guest actually got kissed by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betty_Grable"&gt;Betty Grable&lt;/a&gt; who is famous for a swimsuit pin up photo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I really want a party someday based on the Hollywood Canteen. I want music (preferably a very close likeness to the Andrew Sisters), dancing, food and for people to dress up. The ticket for admission to the Hollywood Canteen was actually the servicemen's uniform. I want it to be just the same for this!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So to wrap this all up, as I was looking at Hollywood Canteens list of people who offered to perform there, it made me think of all the singers, but mostly actors/actresses that I want to watch more of their stuff. Of course people know who they are, but I want to know their work, all of it! Not because I worship them, but because it is fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sidenote: I think it is really funny that the voice for Jessica Rabbit was also the person that played Chandler's DAD in Friends. Show's that someone can be ridiculously sexy, and still a cross dresser at the same time. Haha! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1124828264004685302?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1124828264004685302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/hollywood-canteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1124828264004685302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1124828264004685302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/hollywood-canteen.html' title='Hollywood Canteen'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-98582743782173780</id><published>2011-02-17T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:29:08.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:D</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tonight I made Ileyana laugh so hard she pooped. It was pretty funny. She just stopped in the middle of laughing to poop, then kept on laughing. I love my little girl. She makes me so happy. And saturday we are doing family pictures. Wahoo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today when I got home from work Jon got me a whole lot of daisies. He told me that he couldn't get 1000. :) Which is what Lorelai got when Max proposed on Gilmore Girls. It was so incredibly sweet! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Anyway, really not much to blog about tonight. Just wanted to let everyone know that my daughter and husband are amazing. And I love my little family! I am so happy!! :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-98582743782173780?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/98582743782173780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/d.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/98582743782173780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/98582743782173780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/d.html' title=':D'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7031848289315025558</id><published>2011-02-14T08:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:28:06.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;So Jon and I have been together 2 years 1 month and 1 day and have been married for 1 year, 9 months and 21 days. 3 years ago if you asked me where I saw myself in 5 years I would say either working as a stewardess based out of England for Delta or just finishing school and looking for jobs. I would not however say I saw myself married with a child. That's what has happened though. And I couldn't be more grateful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;When Jon and I were dating, well, I am surprised he stuck with me. Let's be honest here, I was annoying. I was the typical over attached 18 year old who "just wanted to be with him all the time!" But...I made up for it by being adorable. ;) So we stayed together. Actually our first Valentines Day was a very epic day. Massages, SLC library, dinner at the JSB on temple square, then a movie that night. It was a long...long...long day. Fun though. (We vowed to never do a date like that again. Too tiring.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;Somehow Jon decided he could stand me enough, so we got married. (WAHOO!) Then we had Ily and well, it's just been great. I couldn't imagine a better man to be married to. I think everyday how lucky I am to have him as a husband. Now let's talk a little about the man that is my husband.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;He is a goof.  He loves to be nerdy and I love joining in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-saez0rldysQ/TlXOrjZmBxI/AAAAAAAABGQ/rkTaRZagNFI/s320/IMG_2349.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644644955611072274" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;He is such a perfectionist! (He was taking pictures of some sweets I made.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPvr013ilBg/TlXOsCw2gbI/AAAAAAAABGg/jzWKom0uC1k/s320/IMG_2995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644644964030120370" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He is a great friend to so many people. He loves to be social.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W-c1cDbR4Uk/TlXOr6Rc7iI/AAAAAAAABGY/oqJiY7XJHyM/s320/IMG_2432.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644644961750937122" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;He is such a wonderful daddy. He knows how to play...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3QqF_mbDOQg/TlXOsmZ78RI/AAAAAAAABGo/Q1NB2Y6_sXI/s320/IMG_3537.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644644973597683986" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And loves this little girl so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cg-1beKCqmg/TlXOrWv75lI/AAAAAAAABGI/pWKhC1-dnk0/s320/IMG_2000.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644644952215119442" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And let's face it, this is one handsome man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lTjToPXrfE4/TlXOxkErowI/AAAAAAAABGw/FdRJHn2srZo/s320/IMG_4488.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644645058871010050" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am so incredibly happy to call this man my husband and be a part of his eternal family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Happy Valentines Day Jonathan. I look forward to many more with you.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7031848289315025558?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7031848289315025558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/husband.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7031848289315025558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7031848289315025558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/husband.html' title='Husband!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-saez0rldysQ/TlXOrjZmBxI/AAAAAAAABGQ/rkTaRZagNFI/s72-c/IMG_2349.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6968979239109718547</id><published>2011-02-12T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:14:00.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tests</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This may seem a little a lot like totalitarianism view, but I think there should be a test to be able to have kids. Some people are honestly not smart enough to do so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can see 5 parts being made.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Physical&lt;/b&gt;- Can you keep up with the lack of sleep and chasing of your children? And do you keep you and your physical surroundings in an orderly manner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mental&lt;/b&gt;- Are you mentally able to handle the stress and frustration? Do you have any problems that will cause a very serious hazard to your child's life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Emotional&lt;/b&gt;- Are you able to keep your emotions in check or know when you need a break?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Intellectual&lt;/b&gt;- Do you have the knowledge, know how and common sense to be able to deduce what a child needs?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*(I think this is the part most people slip up on. Seriously people. I know i'm not the best mom, but if your child is sick...you fix them. And so on... Seems pretty straight forward to me.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Health&lt;/b&gt;- How many hazardous substance will your child be around? What will you feed them? Will you feed them? Do you yourself have a healthy enough diet to function on a basic human level that does not disgust people?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you don't think you can do any of this, please go have your eggs/sperm removed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***This post is not about anyone I know personally. This is a work observed blog post***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6968979239109718547?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6968979239109718547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/tests.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6968979239109718547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6968979239109718547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/tests.html' title='Tests'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-792631139492875114</id><published>2011-02-10T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:13:23.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Very very very long post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;So while I was growing up I always loved the flare jeans. They were my "thing." So when I went jean shopping and mom would show me some boot cut jeans I nearly threw up. I was so set against never ever wearing them. They are hideous, too tight on my leg and just plain terrible. The reason I mention this is that my friend Mckay gave me some jeans. One of them happens to be boot cut. Turns out, I like 'em ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;So in light of that new evidence, here are many random facts about my life before 18.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When I was little, I loved Elmo. I had a tickle me Elmo and a shirt of him and watched him. All the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I thought if I wore a choker necklace, I was like in the "dangerous" crowd.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When I was 12 I had my first drink of caffeine. It was Vanilla Coke, per the request of my "boyfriend" at the time. To this day, that drink sounds delicious&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I had my first "boyfriend" when I was 12. I don't count it as an actual boyfriend as we held hands at school, passed notes and hugged. I think I actually slapped him when he tried to kiss me once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I do not regret my first kiss. I know some people do, but the guy was and to this day is a very sweet guy. We have remained friends...ish. Maybe not close, but I don't think ill of him in the least&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I remember right after I walked out of my baptism when I was 8, my sister Janeal kept bugging me to, "hit me, hit me, hit me." It got real annoying. I did. To this day I feel bad that I KNOW what my first mess up was after my baptism. It's alright Janeal, i'll still love you ;) And in hindsight it is pretty funny&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I got stitches when I was 8 years old. I was on my bike right after learning how to ride, I looked back to check for a car and my hands followed my head. I ran into a barbed wire fence and my brother Aaron helped me back to my Grandma Ruth's house whom we were visiting. I don't remember the ride there, I think I may have passed out. The putting stitches in hurt SO bad. Walking into my grandma's old house and going in there bathroom all I can think of is my mom cleaning my arm, telling me to not look at it, and me looking. FYI-If your mom says don't look, she probably has a real good reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My first car was a '92 Oldsmobile. He was gray with bench seats and lasted through a lot. My great grandma, my mom, me and a few mud bogging experiences. (Silly Adam and Chad) I just sold that car this week. So bittersweet. I loved my Milton.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When I was growing up as I was the youngest, sometimes people didn't tell me things. I usually knew what was going on anyway though. I would listen in at doors and vents. (The vent to my brothers room was connected to my sisters downstairs. Sorry Ang.) Haha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Janeal and I were attached at the hip until she moved out. I even went on some dates and a Jazz band trip to Sun Valley with her. And usually had a crush on almost all her boyfriends. Luckily our taste in men has drifted apart a lot since then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*While I was cleaning out my car this week I found a phone number. It was of the boy I had a crush on in elementary school. Pack rat much?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The first person's hand I ever held, was a teachers. In 5th grade we went on a class skating trip and everyone dared me to ask Mr...Barger. I think his name was, on the couples skate. So I did. He actually wasn't a very cute guy. I just wanted to prove i'd do it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I was that girl in Elementary school who would mix all the foods on my tray and eat it and try to convince the principal to have burping contests with her. PS. My principal was the most awesome man ever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I became interested in Poetry because of my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Nash. I loved her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Some friends and I in Elementary school played a game called "Monkey Catcher." I don't even remember how to play. But it involved the monkey cars and the tall building looking monkey bars we played on. I think it was pretty much like tag. We were obsessed with Monkeys though. So it worked out well&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My only memory from living in Panama when I was 2...3(?) is this lamp. It pulled down from the ceiling and there was an easter egg up there. We were looking for them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*The only states I remember living in are Idaho and Utah. When we were adding onto our house in Idaho there was this little ramp in I think my sisters room. I sat on it I think. (I was young then. So it's hard to remember.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*In my sister Janeals room, that became my room, there was this cubby hole where when I was in there, I kept my stuffed animals. I had a lot of them. I think they are still there...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My sister Laura had this dog puppet, Wrinkles. And Eric would go get it's tongue wet and lick my face with it. I still can't stand to have my face wet because of that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*Eric would get his rubber chicken, put water and other gunk in there and then proceed to go make it "throw up" outside. It was always during dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My family commonly would talk about cows, cow birth, cow poop and many other cow stuff at the dinner table. I don't know what proper dinner conversation is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My dad has kept a cow in the back seat of his truck, in our bathtub, and pretty much everywhere else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My family has the best meat...ever. I can't eat store bought beef plain. (Yes I eat beef plain. In a bowl, with salt. Our meat is that good.) The first time I did that with store bought meat. I may or may not have cried.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I participated in a number of competitions and always sang. I loved to sing, act and dance. Yep, i'm a triple threat...a very out of practice triple threat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I participated in Jr. Miss and loved it. I actually won some scholarship money in the interview category.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I loved Full House. I would rush home to watch it everyday at 3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I ate popcorn almost everyday. When I was young I would even call my mom to make sure I could make it. After a while I would learn that I didn't have to call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*For Sunday dinner my job was always making the kool aid. And I was awesome at it. My Grandpa Westover still asks me to make it for him :) My brother would sometimes make the jell-o and he would put stuff in it. Plates, utensils, toys...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My favorite Christmas present ever was a Water Dragon. I have had...3(?) of them in my life. One choked on a cricket to death, on got cooked from the inside by a heating lamp and one...what ever happened to that one anyway? I think I returned it. Clearly i'm not good with animals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I don't remember a time where we didn't have at least 2 dogs. One time we had over 10 because 2 of our dogs had puppies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When my oldest sister left to college she met Tiana. I hated Tiana at first. She was taking away my sister. I later found out she was amazing. She was my maid on honor :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I couldn't sleep without music until I turned 18ish&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*We would used to go out and sleep on the trampoline during the summer and Laura would tell me Star stories. I believe it was inspired by Granpda W's Spot stories. (He was an invisible dog.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My mom would always pick up strays. Dogs, people, whatever. We commonly would have friends or animals staying at our house&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My first "Punk" CD was Avril Lavigne. I felt pretty cool owning that. I later threw it away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I kept all my notes from boyfriends until I was 18, then I finally threw them away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My friends and I created our own written language to pass notes in Jr. High. I still remember most of the alphabet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I did really well on the drunk googles test as did my brother Aaron. Apparently we have good balance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I hated riding school buses and would refuse to ride them for a very long time. I had issues with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*In the beginning of High School I had really bad headaches that I still don't know why or what they were. They are gone now though&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I always hated fish. I will eat Tuna fish, but that's it. Sometimes I have even thrown up at just the smell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I have broken many fingers and even my foot once. My foot was a few days before my 16th birthday. Bummer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I went to only 3 high school dances. One after I moved to Utah with my boyfriend, one with a guy named Michael and one the guy left me half way through and made out with a friend of mine. Even more of a bummer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*My senior year I was very grumpy and commonly would yell at the freshman in one of my classes. The teacher liked me for that though. We are still friends :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I don't usually get along with people my age. I always got along with older people. I think because Janeal and I hung out a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*When my family was moving to Panama I lost my mom's military ID, or our passports or something. I'm talented that way. We were able to get everything worked out because my flirtatious sister Andrea sat on some random guys lap. Luckily he was a head man at the airport&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I used to want to work on Broadway. It was my dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I have always wanted to work at Playmill, a theatre in West Yellowstone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;*I was on dance team and did some plays. I was in Annie twice. Once as Tessie and once as Lily. If I hear Annie songs they commonly don't leave my head for weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;Okay. I think I gave you all more than enough to read and I have my doubts anyone will read all of this. I just have wanted to put some memories down. I encourage you all to post an epically long blog about your childhood. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XvOMEasZ8qI/TlXJsNtnVgI/AAAAAAAABE4/bNbVTUA_ISM/s320/IMG_5380.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639469411194370" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ileyana looks a lot like I did!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--y_6QyNkMAs/TlXJssOOkVI/AAAAAAAABFI/YR5r_ovbBFQ/s320/IMG_5382.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639477601046866" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I loved this dress. I wanted to wear it all the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SuvBfOO-0i4/TlXJsRvIKXI/AAAAAAAABFA/QyRDC87a_vQ/s320/IMG_5381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639470491281778" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think this was first grade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xCs9x1pKpHU/TlXKAF6mfdI/AAAAAAAABFg/8nhNTpB9BMw/s320/IMG_5390.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639810915565010" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Janeal and I on a family trip. We were inseperable :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j_8fvdpOpJ0/TlXJtK1PBxI/AAAAAAAABFY/mODM_DzWr8M/s320/IMG_5389.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639485817718546" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My first Annie play. Loved it!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9a2tb-X0FwY/TlXKBQl8UVI/AAAAAAAABGA/gPnFQOVvw88/s1600/IMG_5425.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9a2tb-X0FwY/TlXKBQl8UVI/AAAAAAAABGA/gPnFQOVvw88/s320/IMG_5425.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639830961574226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My choker necklace phase. Haha!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qtyD4uvo5ww/TlXKAtOl6TI/AAAAAAAABFo/AShsiUQl5AU/s320/IMG_5402.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639821468395826" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is how you would commonly find me. Through all ages. Singing into a hairbrush.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CkapyAvlVPs/TlXKBHDqDMI/AAAAAAAABF4/MExg0nN9uRY/s1600/IMG_5423.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CkapyAvlVPs/TlXKBHDqDMI/AAAAAAAABF4/MExg0nN9uRY/s320/IMG_5423.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639828401851586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;8th to 10th grade, Nothing really changed. Hair down to the earrings!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dgM8jVMBx08/TlXKA_2DhiI/AAAAAAAABFw/XKuBC9lCDc8/s1600/IMG_5409.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dgM8jVMBx08/TlXKA_2DhiI/AAAAAAAABFw/XKuBC9lCDc8/s320/IMG_5409.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639826465752610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yTKXPfAQZyo/TlXJs7bXwuI/AAAAAAAABFQ/NV-d2ygjdDc/s1600/IMG_5385.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yTKXPfAQZyo/TlXJs7bXwuI/AAAAAAAABFQ/NV-d2ygjdDc/s320/IMG_5385.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644639481682707170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jr Miss pictures&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-792631139492875114?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/792631139492875114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/very-very-very-long-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/792631139492875114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/792631139492875114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/very-very-very-long-post.html' title='Very very very long post'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XvOMEasZ8qI/TlXJsNtnVgI/AAAAAAAABE4/bNbVTUA_ISM/s72-c/IMG_5380.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8476031906505534898</id><published>2011-02-08T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T20:05:55.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ileyana ups and downs.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;First off, Ily went to sleep without crying at all or getting out of her bed. Yay!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So this isn't something I like to publicize and i'm sure many other mom's feel the exact same way, but sometimes I really have a stressful time with Ileyana. Especially since I started my job I get frustrated with her very fast. I've been hoping and certainly praying for that to change and trying my best to change my attitude.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was to say the least, a really really bad day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I got my wisdom teeth out Friday so i'm in a lot of pain&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I was either in pain and couldn't focus at work, or took pills and was still foggy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My boss accidentally nailed me in the face today while trying to point something out to a customer (keep in mind this is a man who punches poles to make his knuckles hard.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Because of the above my newly worked on mouth started to go numb and I would drool randomly and not notice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I had to go through the drive through at the bank because it closed 1 minute before I got there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Since I was cold, pushing a stroller and going through the drive through at a bank I not only looked pitiful...someone passed me and dropped a dollar bill&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(wasn't going to say that last part, but in hindsight, a little funny. And sad.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So back to my original point. I've been having a rough time with Ily. So today coming home from the bank was the first time I actually got to spend time with Ily and I was really worried I was going to be uptight. Then she smiled at me and gave me this big hug. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All my stress and anger melted away. I realized that most of the time I just get so upset that she gets unhappy. I forget the fact is, both of us get upset. So why is it not ok when she does? If I just realize that she's ok, and i'm ok, then IT'S ok. She's my little girl and even if it's rough sometimes and i'm busier than I used to be, she still loves me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love her too :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8476031906505534898?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8476031906505534898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/ileyana-ups-and-downs.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8476031906505534898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8476031906505534898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/ileyana-ups-and-downs.html' title='Ileyana ups and downs.'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7161968431615744413</id><published>2011-02-07T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T20:58:30.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So I was thinking about something the other day. I have changed so much in the past 3 years. Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually...well, pretty much in every way possible. One of the things I am SO grateful has changed, is my style.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_URkhH2NqLEA/TVDY-iViZfI/AAAAAAAAAjs/rB_gyFJSd8w/s1600/Me1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jeans, t-shirt, hair down and curly and hair ties on the wrist. That was very very normal for me. (You can't see all that here, but that's what it was usually.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDgevquZnA0/TlXIRTMZ3aI/AAAAAAAABEo/PZOKaqp3bfY/s320/IMG_4086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644637907514416546" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_URkhH2NqLEA/TVDY-iViZfI/AAAAAAAAAjs/rB_gyFJSd8w/s1600/Me1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_URkhH2NqLEA/TVDY-iViZfI/AAAAAAAAAjs/rB_gyFJSd8w/s1600/Me1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_URkhH2NqLEA/TVDY-iViZfI/AAAAAAAAAjs/rB_gyFJSd8w/s1600/Me1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yznOHI0zU18/TlXIR2gZ0LI/AAAAAAAABEw/jGqQKDq-IHU/s320/IMG_5363.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644637916993540274" /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Ok, this picture makes me look real weird. It was great to show my point though.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A little more stylish top, ruffles, actually doing my hair, I was wearing heels and bangs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am just very proud of the outward and inward strides I have made in the past few years. I have to thank Jon for the clothing thing though. He taught me well! And then Mckay for getting rid of her clothes ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7161968431615744413?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7161968431615744413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7161968431615744413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7161968431615744413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDgevquZnA0/TlXIRTMZ3aI/AAAAAAAABEo/PZOKaqp3bfY/s72-c/IMG_4086.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4498085998081837853</id><published>2011-02-04T14:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:22:08.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wisdom Teeth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Well, I had a hard time going to sleep because I was so nervous of what today would bring. Then this morning came. I went to the dentist, filled out a paper then they brought me in for the x-ray. Usually that is about the time I start hating things. My jaw has so many intense issues that opening it at all or inserting anything in the back of my mouth makes me want to scream. Luckily, their machine was awesome. You just bit down on a little stick and this thing rotates around your head. So so much easier.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Then came the real scary part. They took me back to the room, got my blood pressure, 127/80. Then that other thing at 88. Pretty normal for me. The guy came to knock me out. With a needle. EEK! If you know me well, you know I am needle-phobic. I cry like a little baby when they come around. And I don't care. Haha. Jon was there so it made it a lot easier. I told him to not tell me ANYTHING that was going on or it would make both our jobs a lot harder. He reassured that I didn't want him to say anything, I said yes. He strapped my arm, told me to keep my arm straight and I held Jon's hand I didn't cry! Wahoo! He stuck the needle in me and said he was done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wait...the needle is still in me. Why is the needle still in me? Is this an IV?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"It's still in my arm."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"There is a flexible one to give you drugs and when you wake up it will be gone."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"It's still in my arm. There is something in my arrrrmmmmmm....."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Ok! All done!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All 4 teeth got removed, I don't remember a thing and I am alternating between 4 very delicious pills to keep me not in pain, not sick and...something. Not sure what they are all for. Jon's mom came and took Ileyana for the night so we could actually get me taken care of. Poor Jon was just as exhausted as I was by putting up with me, so we both napped and Alisha is sweet enough to go get me mashed potatoes and make that Jello and pudding so I can finally eat. I haven't eaten all day. And only had Ramen and 2 slices of pizza yesterday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So ya, that's the story of my face. I know, looks pretty bad. Not too bad though. I'm staying drugged. I just wish my jaw wouldn't hurt so bad!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4498085998081837853?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4498085998081837853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/wisdom-teeth_04.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4498085998081837853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4498085998081837853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/wisdom-teeth_04.html' title='Wisdom Teeth'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-403202083752099542</id><published>2011-02-01T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T21:47:42.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain</title><content type='html'>I feel like i'm trying to do splits on a porcupine while watching a Katy Perry video. My mouth may or may not be the death of me. I am 99.9% positive that my wisdom teeth need to be taken out. And fast.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to know what though? It is impossible to say if this is better or worse than having a baby. Contractions...ouch. They kill your lower stomach down to well, ya know. But the difference there is it covers a wide space. Here it is such a concentrated pain it almost makes it worse. And labor wasn't too bad when I had drugs in me. So all in all. This just plain sucks. I took some pills, i'm just waiting for them to kick in, once they do I will possibly complain a bit less. Possibly. So don't quote me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to ask though. What the heck? I take great care of my teeth. I floss, brush and do all other sorts of great stuff. And yet it always seems like my teeth have issues. (Yes, I know that wisdom teeth have no connection. I am not an imbecile.)  Seriously though. Root canals, fillings...and just such issues come with such well maintained teeth. I don't get it. I hate my mouth. I hope Ileyana gets better genetics. Maybe some recessive genes are hidden in there somewhere that will save us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anway, on to distract myself from the intense amount of pain I am feeling right now and my want to punch a puppy because of that pain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-403202083752099542?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/403202083752099542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/403202083752099542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/403202083752099542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain.html' title='Pain'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7818624461697374977</id><published>2011-01-30T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:15:25.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Raise Your Hand If You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So tonight I watched Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. A little odd. I enjoyed it though. If you haven't seen it, I would suggest it. More because I love Sandra Bullock, but still a little fun. (More for girls. Guys could enjoy it, but less likely.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After watching that movie and a few conversations with friends lately I just want to say one thing. Not to anyone specific. Just everyone in general including myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Be nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Of course. Everyone knows that. Does everyone do it though? No. You don't know what someone has/been/or is going through. I'm not saying walk on egg shells all the time for fear of hurting someones ever so fragile feelings, that is just silly. I am saying, be understanding. Open up your mind to the fact that not only your actions, but even your thoughts can hurt someone you love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If you have a problem with someone, share it. If you don't know why you are so uptight, figure it out and then confront the problem. Don't wallow in self pity or whatever it is until you realize later in life that you have to go back and undo all the crap that you let settle. Life is too short to have to spend half of it wishing for a replay button. It ain't gonna happen. Everyone is going to make mistakes and say things that they don't mean, or that they do mean and won't admit to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know I am the last person to give this lecture. I have a really hard time letting go of things and even a harder time not passing judgement and such, but at least I recognize the fact i'm being an idiot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Are you an idiot too?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7818624461697374977?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7818624461697374977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/raise-your-hand-if-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7818624461697374977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7818624461697374977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/raise-your-hand-if-you.html' title='Raise Your Hand If You...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-7741361908727711208</id><published>2011-01-26T08:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:17:13.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Title for this post?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So yesterday was interesting. I had work at 8, so I got up at about 7:30 and worked until 3:30. I wanted to finish real fast so I could have time to rest before Mckay and I worked out. In theory, great idea. In reality, tired me out fast so I was even more tired when we worked out. Then I got to her house at about 5, did some at home work out video stuff then went to run at the BYU track. (Where by the way I saw someone that I haven't seen for a long time, for the second time this week. Weird. Not bad. Just coincidence.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, so it was just a real busy and long day. So I got home and Ileyana was acting real exhausted around 7:30 so I thought I would give her a 15 minute nap to recharge her enough to last until 9 or 10. Yep...I woke up at about 8:30, texted Jon and asked what he thought. He said I may as well let her sleep. Ok...so I went to bed as well. The result of all this? I slept from about 8pm to 8am. It felt SO great. I haven't slept that long in...wow. I honestly don't even know. Must have been before Ileyana. I sure needed it though. Then we woke up this morning to Ileyana throwing up. Poor girl! Anyway, that's all my thoughts for the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why the flowers you ask? Because my husband gave them to me. For no reason. Yep, he's awesome. I sure do love daisy's! They are my favorite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtTP07Wp7CA/TlR7MbyT-uI/AAAAAAAABEg/c2tU0A4suV4/s320/IMG_5332.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644271686549502690" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-7741361908727711208?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/7741361908727711208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-will-never-look-at-boa-same.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7741361908727711208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/7741361908727711208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-will-never-look-at-boa-same.html' title='Title for this post?'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtTP07Wp7CA/TlR7MbyT-uI/AAAAAAAABEg/c2tU0A4suV4/s72-c/IMG_5332.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1351831454280422674</id><published>2011-01-23T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:12:58.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All worth it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Things I sacrifice for my child:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Time, Energy, Effort, Money, Sleep, Clean house, Time with husband, Friends, Nice stuff, Looking decent, Privacy of any sort, Schooling (for now), Work hours, Comfort...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Why I honestly don't care in the least:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KujPvkNPskk/TlR6PZYTmzI/AAAAAAAABEQ/5FrhqOLYJV0/s320/IMG_5308.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644270637931535154" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1351831454280422674?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1351831454280422674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/things-i-sacrifice-for-my-child-time.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1351831454280422674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1351831454280422674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/things-i-sacrifice-for-my-child-time.html' title='All worth it'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KujPvkNPskk/TlR6PZYTmzI/AAAAAAAABEQ/5FrhqOLYJV0/s72-c/IMG_5308.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-281781358716513292</id><published>2011-01-21T21:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:11:08.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The truest of joys</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I decided about a week ago that I should read the Scriptures with Ileyana every night before bed before we pray. And it is amazing to me how she already knows that those books are special. She will calm down, and just listen while I walk around and read 5 verses to her. It is so amazing to me that she is that smart already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had always thought I had seen true beauty in my life, until I gave birth to my daughter. Tonight she woke up because there was a noise. So I went in, crawled in the crib with her and cuddled with her for a minute. There is nothing more beautiful, peaceful, pure or perfect than that child that was sleeping next to me. I have never had such an amazing feeling in my life. I can feel the goodness and purity radiate from her tiny little body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sure, there are always stressful and emotional times with a child. The joy comes with it though trumps ANY other emotion you can have. The first time I held her, the first time we cuddled or fell asleep together, the first time she rolled over, crawled...the first time she hugged me, those things and so many more make up a mothers love. And there are new reasons every day to love your child. I can't imagine my life without her. I can't imagine the joy that I missed out on before I had her and I am SO grateful that she is in my life. I look forward to every new experience with her and hope that everyone in life can join in this overpowering feeling of love and happiness. It is truly, the best thing anyone can ever have. Is a child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-281781358716513292?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/281781358716513292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/truest-of-joys.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/281781358716513292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/281781358716513292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/truest-of-joys.html' title='The truest of joys'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-86465179702492265</id><published>2011-01-19T09:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:10:22.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take that universe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So for the past 2 days or so I was just real annoyed with life. Epic fail on an IKEA trip that included bad traffic and lack of what we needed, Ileyana pooping in the tub, accidental electrocution. (Not terribly bad, but bad enough I threw up afterwards), tiring day at work, leaving work early to go get Ily because the babysitter needed to go to the doctor, then because I woke Ily up she wouldn't go back to sleep, and well...you get the picture. Nothing really major happened. Just enough little stuff to make me want to get the universe, and...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Well instead of having to find a way to sucker punch the universe, I came home, cleaned the whole house real deep so I felt better about my surrounds, went and bought dinner so I didn't have to make it and then watched Scott Pilgrim for movie night. This morning I also slept in, Ileyana is grumpy today, but I'm at least feeling a little better. So take that Universe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-86465179702492265?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/86465179702492265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/so-for-past-2-days-or-so-i-was-just.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/86465179702492265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/86465179702492265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/so-for-past-2-days-or-so-i-was-just.html' title='Take that universe!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-899106656175308319</id><published>2011-01-15T23:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:09:06.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cliche Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Okay. So you know those girls who just have a really rough time being friends with girls because they only know how to be friends with boys? Ya, I have always been one of those. You wanna know something awesome though?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think i'm getting better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks Mckay! You are awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(PS. I know you are all judging me right now for my, "Look at my friend!" Post. Well ya, I just posted it. So ha. I win.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-899106656175308319?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/899106656175308319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/cliche-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/899106656175308319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/899106656175308319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/cliche-post.html' title='Cliche Post'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6204434114335068381</id><published>2011-01-14T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:08:36.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fact:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This isn't where dreams come true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_URkhH2NqLEA/TTDur_2YydI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/C6jhPX4ZMtU/s1600/disneyland-address.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 197px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R3rnHB1lMhk/TlR5KAVXIvI/AAAAAAAABEI/y0sk1d1k_IY/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644269445797323506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;This is...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a1F49SXwaxk/TlR5Jw2De0I/AAAAAAAABEA/Y7zXJjs7zoA/s320/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644269441639480130" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;We'll go...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;And you'll be jealous...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;CERN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;(Maybe not today, or tomorrow...someday though...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6204434114335068381?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6204434114335068381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/fact.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6204434114335068381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6204434114335068381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/fact.html' title='Fact:'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R3rnHB1lMhk/TlR5KAVXIvI/AAAAAAAABEI/y0sk1d1k_IY/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5617977315560543206</id><published>2011-01-08T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T22:47:49.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's gotta happen some times.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Life is getting very routine. I work 3 days a week and the other days watch Ileyana. It's still too cold to really go outside and play, so we are stuck inside and find our own entertainment. I am excited for warm weather and playing with Ileyana though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Work is...eh...work. I like the job, but there are other aspects that bug me. Ie: coworkers once in a while, grumpy customers and being on my feet SO much. My back needs help. Seriously. Ouch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Also lately i've really been craving some sort of travel. Jon and I never got to go on a honeymoon, circumstances just didn't permit at the time. So I just wish I could go somewhere. England, Rome, Paris, Hawaii, somewhere fun and exciting. Just...somewhere... I feel like I never had a chance to do the travel thing. There are so many people that I talk to that do study abroad's, honeymoons in other countries, family vacations, traveling just for fun...I want that. I know it will happen someday. I have no doubt about that. I just have the nasty habit of looking ahead so much that I get impatient. That's where I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want to get Jon out of UVU and into a Master's program. I want to move to wherever that master's program is. I want to get his Ph.D so we can get our life rolling with all his Physics ideas. I want to be out of school, maybe actually get some school done myself one day. When does life finally move on? I am trying so hard to be excited for where we are. It's great. I love being married to Jon. I love the stage that Ileyana is at. I also really love being able to have a job and get out a bit. Life is slow. It also isn't at the place where I would want it to be. I know that we will get there though. Patience is just not exactly a virtue that I have been able to hold dear to my heart. I'm working on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Okay. This post is a slight pity party. I know. I'm just having a bit of a bum night. I'm sure i'll be fine in the morning. Nothing like church to fix the whiner in me. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5617977315560543206?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5617977315560543206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-gotta-happen-some-times.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5617977315560543206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5617977315560543206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-gotta-happen-some-times.html' title='It&apos;s gotta happen some times.'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4781319614033508443</id><published>2011-01-05T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T11:31:12.495-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bread Roll things</title><content type='html'>Ok. If you are ever craving soft, delicious breadsticks, here it is:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 tube Pilsbury Butter Crescent rolls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Easily spreadable butter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grated Parmesan Cheese&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Garlic Salt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Spread butter on crescent rolls so it covers everything, do a decently thick layer of parmesan cheese, very light on the Garlic Salt. Roll up, cook until golden brown. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IT IS SO DELICIOUS AND EASY! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4781319614033508443?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4781319614033508443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/bread-roll-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4781319614033508443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4781319614033508443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/bread-roll-things.html' title='Bread Roll things'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-195559141780214174</id><published>2011-01-03T17:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:04:59.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crock Pot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 18.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Emmy’s Crock Pot Chicken 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;5 pieces chicken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;2 cans cream of chicken soup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Carrots&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Chopped Onions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Chives&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Montreal Chicken Seasoning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Garlic Powder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Salt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;6 hours in Crock Pot-Stir Occasionally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 18.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"&gt;Seriously, I love the stinking crock pot so much. I do not however like Post cereal for taking cereals away. Silly people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-195559141780214174?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/195559141780214174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/emmys-crock-pot-chicken-2-5-pieces.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/195559141780214174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/195559141780214174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/emmys-crock-pot-chicken-2-5-pieces.html' title='Crock Pot'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3626907935902985109</id><published>2011-01-01T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:03:43.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh My Heavens. How much do you want this bunny?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eGJBUb_57Mc/TlR4EkIipsI/AAAAAAAABD4/6j5hhJgUXSk/s320/bunny-7780.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644268252816385730" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;I would go and get it right now if I could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3626907935902985109?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3626907935902985109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/oh-my-heavens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3626907935902985109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3626907935902985109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2011/01/oh-my-heavens.html' title=''/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eGJBUb_57Mc/TlR4EkIipsI/AAAAAAAABD4/6j5hhJgUXSk/s72-c/bunny-7780.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6255588843633561218</id><published>2010-12-31T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T20:18:29.364-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Years Post. Yo</title><content type='html'>I got this survey from &lt;a href="http://yahtzeethat.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-in-review.html"&gt;Brianon's&lt;/a&gt; blog and thought it looked like fun! :)&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raised a less than one year old? Not much really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not make any, but I am making some this year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3. Did anyone close to you give birth?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister Andrea!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;4. Did anyone close to you die?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um...not this year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;5. What countries did you visit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't even been to another country, but I did go to Ohio!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money, stronger friendships...that's about it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;7. What days from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The trips to Ohio and DC and everyday with Jon and Ileyana :), April 24th-sealed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting a job and learning more patience with Ileyana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;9. What was your biggest failure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lack of working out, short fuse with people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;10. Did you suffer illness or injury?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little injury's, nothing huge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;11. What was the best thing you bought?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do things jon bought for me count? Like boots/clothes and stuff? Oh! I bought jon a lightsaber!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;12. Whose behavior merited celebration?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon's parents and grandparents for so many different reasons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humans in general depress me often by their lack of compassion and common sense&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;14. Where did most of your money go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bills, food, diapers, baby stuff and then some more food for ily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohio to see my sister, DC to see Jon's family and Ileyana growing up :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;16. What song will always remind you of 2010?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you let me stay here" and "In the Sun" by Zooey Deschanel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;17. Compared to this time last year, are you:&lt;br /&gt;i. happier or sadder?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Way way happier  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ii. thinner or fatter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Seeing as I just had a baby, i'd say skinnier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;iii. richer or poorer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; We are in school with a kid, so you never know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;18. What do you wish you'd done more of?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working out, making closer friends, being outside with Ileyana and spending quality time with Jon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;19. What do you wish you'd done less of?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch shows, just vegging in general&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;20. How did you be spend Christmas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Ileyana and Jon. Just a small cute Christmas. We also visited his Aunts for a bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;22. Did you fall in love in 2010?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More and more each day :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;23. How many one-night stands?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;24. What was your favorite TV program?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Deep Breath* Friends, Gilmore Girls, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Chuck, How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory, House, Arrested Development, Better off Ted...i'm sure there are more...hence number 19&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really try not to hate at all. So no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;26. What was the best book you read?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it sad I can't think of one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;27. What was your greatest musical (re)discovery?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and Him and anything like unto it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;28. What did you want and get?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clothes, boots, sealed in the temple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;29. What did you want and not get?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe a book by David Bach on Money management, but essentially nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;30. What was your favorite film of this year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tangled, Despicable Me...something else i'm sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i turned 20 and we had a surprise party for me at Macaroni Grill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest? Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bangs, anything Jon bought me :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;34. What kept you sane?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord, Jon, Ileyana, friends and fam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zooey deschanel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. What political issue stirred you the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh. whatever. I try not to worry about those. Come what may, I vote what I believe and deal with the rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;37. Who did you miss?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;East coast family. All the rest are pretty close by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;38. Who was the best new person you met?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Names make it too specific. I have met so many great and wonderful people this year that I am thankful for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Practice your religion religiously ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;All in all, I think this was a great year. I got to spend so much valuable time with my husband and daughter and wouldn't trade it for the world. I am so grateful for this year, hard times and all. I look forward to 2011. It's gonna be awesome :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;New Years Resolution this year? No pop. I just think healthy will be nice for a change. Let's see how I do! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="width: 536px; position: relative; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;PS. We had dinner with Luke and Rachel who are moving into our complex. It's Jon's cousin so we know him well. It was a great year to start out our celebration (pretty much the only part of our celebration) but still. This year will also be great to have them close by. Everyone wants to live next to someone amazing. And now we will!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-footer" style="line-height: 1.6; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6255588843633561218?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6255588843633561218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-years-post-yo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6255588843633561218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6255588843633561218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-years-post-yo.html' title='New Years Post. Yo'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-514164703038881082</id><published>2010-12-24T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:01:46.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Christmas Traditions!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Beginning of Season:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Egg Nog for Jon of course&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Jon obsessively decorating the tree and me thinking how cute he is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Me dressing up in Christmas socks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Christmas Eve:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Watching Muppet Christmas Carol and now Elf. (because of Zooey)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Opening one Christmas Present&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Sleeping in the frontroom with the Christmas tree&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Christmas Day/Present stuff:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Talking about the real reason of Christmas/Presents&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Chocolate Oranges&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Toothbrushes/Toys in stockings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*A scarf for me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Love love love love love!! I sure do enjoy this time of year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-514164703038881082?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/514164703038881082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/514164703038881082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/514164703038881082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-blog.html' title='Christmas Blog'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8634794885062915759</id><published>2010-12-23T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T21:00:55.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love my Bug :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;I love the Christmas season. It is my favorite time in the world. I always feel happier than usual. THe only bummer about this season is that I work. Which is nice for the pocket, but not so great for the getting in the mood of Christmas and spending time with my family thing. It's been hard to shop, wrap, clean, cook, Ileyana, work and husband my life away this week. Luckily Jon is pretty much the most amazing man in the world and has really helped me out a bunch lately so the stress was way down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;I would also like to remind everyone to keep in mind the true reason that Christmas is celebrated and the reasons that gifts are given in the first place. I know for me sometimes I get so "wrapped" up in everything else I have a hard time focusing on the real meanings. I look forward to a great Christmas with my little family :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8634794885062915759?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8634794885062915759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-my-bug-d.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8634794885062915759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8634794885062915759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-my-bug-d.html' title='I love my Bug :D'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1138054570837196041</id><published>2010-12-18T14:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T14:10:55.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My daughter is in fact a girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So we are in Idaho this weekend. Long long drive. The normal 3 and a half to 4 hour drive turned into 6 hours. *Throw up*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Not fun&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So we got here, Ileyana played way too much because she thought her hour in the car sleeping in the car was a nap. Then she finally went to bed and so did we. She woke up i'm betting around 8 but didn't make noise until 8:30 or so. Then we had my Grandma and Grandpa Shippen's Christmas party. The last time we went to one Ileyana was only about a month old so the idea of a big man in a red suit didn't scare her. She was sleeping through him holding her. This year though...wow. Not a fan. She looked like he was trying to torture her! But she got a really cute dish set and book out of him holding her, so it all works out alright. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I really didn't have much point in blogging. I just wanted to write. Does anyone else feel like it doesn't feel like Christmas time at all though? I sure do. I don't know if it's the lack of snow, traditions, me working, jon in school or what. It just doesn't feel like Christmas time. It's just...cold. Oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(I left my camera in Utah. So no pictures on this post. Bummer.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1138054570837196041?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1138054570837196041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-daughter-is-in-fact-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1138054570837196041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1138054570837196041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-daughter-is-in-fact-girl.html' title='My daughter is in fact a girl'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4654807480019664368</id><published>2010-12-15T09:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:57:44.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fail</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ileyana has looked very similar to this today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vpkzLr6YSNs/TlR2pht9D5I/AAAAAAAABDw/RlHFkq-ssTU/s320/IMG_4786.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644266688799903634" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Fail...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4654807480019664368?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4654807480019664368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/ileyana-has-looked-very-similar-to-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4654807480019664368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4654807480019664368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/ileyana-has-looked-very-similar-to-this.html' title='Fail'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vpkzLr6YSNs/TlR2pht9D5I/AAAAAAAABDw/RlHFkq-ssTU/s72-c/IMG_4786.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1643468948605585622</id><published>2010-12-14T17:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T17:21:07.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The day hath suckest...</title><content type='html'>Today sucked. I get to work at 8 after very sleepily pulling myself out of bed. I'm still in a lot of pain from the allergic reaction I had and was just not in the mood for anything. So I get to work and it's really really busy. After it slows down enough to breath I ask what's going on and I was told that over the weekend the freezer broke. All of the bagels were sitting in 40 degrees and so yesterday they had to fix the freezer, freeze the bagels, thaw them to the right temperature and all this other crap which made today a little harder as well. So already we started out behind.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To make this all so much better, the prep guy didn't come in today and didn't even call. And I don't think any prep was done yesterday. So we had to not only make all the crap that we were out of that they are supposed to make, but also close up the back, clean the bathrooms, fill the ice and so many other time consuming crap that if the guy would have come in, we wouldn't have to do. I am supposed to get off at 3:30 or 4 and didn't get home until 5:30. I really do hope he's ok, but it was just so frustrating.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in the end. Today was pretty not great. And I babysit tomorrow, am going to temple square and work thursday and friday then go to Idaho. It will be a really really full week, but I think my day off work tomorrow will totally recharge me. And we are excited for the lights and time with the Whitakers!! And the thing that made today all worth it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some guy at work: "You look like that girl from Yes Man."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "You mean Zooey Deschanel?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: "Ya! That's the one!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My head exploded just a little*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1643468948605585622?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1643468948605585622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/day-hath-suckest.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1643468948605585622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1643468948605585622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/day-hath-suckest.html' title='The day hath suckest...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-6094646209737128024</id><published>2010-12-12T23:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:55:12.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Solutions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Okay. So live and learn right? Well I...let's just leave it at, I had an allergic reaction to something. I was in a lot of pain so I decided I needed to take some allergy meds. Darn. Out. Oh well, we have some Children's liquid stuff. I can just take twice the dosage and i'll be great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Gulp*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jordan, Jon and I watching HIMYM...Ily went to bed...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What happened after all that? Did I put Ily to bed or did Jon? My words are starting to slur real bad guyssssss...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Thud*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Midnight rolls around. "Okay! I'm up!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Pain gone. Wide awake and hungry...Epic Fail.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In other news. &lt;a href="http://therealclarissaexplainsitall.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ris Baer&lt;/a&gt; is engaged!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eiVXooBzmEs/TlR19BBKFMI/AAAAAAAABDo/TjmPxuUgmU8/s320/IMG_4941.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644265924107834562" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am so EXCITED!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-38hrfw1JXRk/TlR184xn4GI/AAAAAAAABDg/wCt-Wui567M/s320/IMG_4932.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644265921895194722" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Clearly she is too&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-6094646209737128024?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/6094646209737128024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/solutions.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6094646209737128024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/6094646209737128024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/solutions.html' title='Solutions...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eiVXooBzmEs/TlR19BBKFMI/AAAAAAAABDo/TjmPxuUgmU8/s72-c/IMG_4941.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-5098008887593610088</id><published>2010-12-10T23:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:52:55.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Ezio...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Emily's current highlights:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Figuring out Jon's cousin and his wife to be are moving in our complex. It's like an early Christmas present to find it out!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Coming home from work. Just nice to see husband and daughter waiting for me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Using the freaking amazing stroller Ris, B, Jaz and Tev gave us. Wow. It was like heaven. On little jogging wheels&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Ily. She's always a highlight though&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Talking to Janeal. It's nice to have some sister time. I miss my other sisters now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Hanging out with Craig and Mckay tonight. Such fun people. Seriously...dude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Planning future trips/stuff&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-5098008887593610088?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/5098008887593610088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-ezio.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5098008887593610088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/5098008887593610088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-ezio.html' title='I love Ezio...'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-3393383964068459733</id><published>2010-12-08T20:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:51:47.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To whom it concerns:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I am opinionated. If you ask my advice, I will give it. If I have a thought, I will share it. If I think you are wrong or stupid I will attempt to subtly tell you so. I do not do these things to offend or hurt anyone, but because I honestly care and think I can help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If someone asks me about something that I have been through, know a lot about or even feel I have pertinent advice, I like to share my stories/feelings. Now the reason I am mentioning this is not because I am going through something like this at the moment. I just feel like it would be so nice to get this out of the way. So that way, whomever decides to read my blog, knows.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I feel like any of my advice and thoughts aren't important. I'm not fantastic. I don't know everything. I do however feel as if some of my life experiences give me right to give my input. Not to force anyone into anything or force my ideals on them. But if you want to buy a vacuum, you look at reviews of people who have had that vacuum before. So sometimes when I give my advice, when people say they are willing to hear it, then they get mad, I don't get it. If you read a bad review on the vacuum, you don't get mad it. You take it with a grain of salt right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay. I'll step off my soap box now. Just wanted to blog, and this was on my mind. Thanks all for actually reading my blog. It means a lot to me that ya'll actually want to see what I have to say :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-3393383964068459733?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/3393383964068459733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/to-whom-it-concerns.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3393383964068459733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/3393383964068459733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/to-whom-it-concerns.html' title='To whom it concerns:'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-4501252568700782372</id><published>2010-12-05T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T17:00:42.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crock Pots rule!</title><content type='html'>So I always avoided making Crock Pot food because it would be hard, time consuming, I couldn't find a good recipe...things like that. Well since we have church at 2:30, I thought today I would try it. No recipe. I did this:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 pieces of boneless skinless chicken breast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 medium potatoes cut up and peeled&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;some carrots&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 can cream of chicken soup, 3 cans of water&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 packet Lipton onion soup mix&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did it for 6 hours. Oddly enough. It was really really tasty, just needed a little salt, and really easy! And once we got home we got food! It was such a great idea. Slow cookers are easy. And the chicken is so juicy and perfect!! Man. So happy :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-4501252568700782372?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/4501252568700782372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/crock-pots-rule.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4501252568700782372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/4501252568700782372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/crock-pots-rule.html' title='Crock Pots rule!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8680259841577887619</id><published>2010-12-04T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T11:24:13.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Revised Birthday 4/8/11 and Christmas!</title><content type='html'>So...I know that my birthday is forever away. And talking about it as much as I have lately is rather lame. Yet it is my 21st. So I am allowed to be excited :) So for this one we have a pretty cool idea. Originally it was going to be a whole Italian themed. After we started talking about it, we thought of a whole new and amazingly awesome plan. We are going out to eat, every part of the meal from a different place. &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Drinks-Red Robin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Salad-Possible Olive Garden&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Breadsticks-Still in Discussion&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Appetizers-Applebees or other best option&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Main Course-Gloria's Little Italy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dessert-Applebees or other best option&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now our problem is that we want the best options of all of these places, but we can't decide. I love the Appetizers and Dessert from Applebees. We are even eyeing a certain Dessert. We want to do a different place for each course. So we still have some revising and thinking to do. Any ideas on really great Salad, Breadsticks and Appetizers??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also I would like to speak shortly about Christmas. Jon and I think that having 1 bigger present, 2 little presents and a stocking would be perfect. Oddly enough, my favorite part is the stocking. Here is what I like in my stocking:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Peanuts. Not the kind I have to shell. Just a plain old pack of nuts would be great. And lots of 'em!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Chocolate. Preferably the little bell candies, the Chocolate Orange and some Reeses Christmas trees.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Oddly enough. I don't really like Candy Canes. Jon can have those. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My favorite fruit at the bottom. A pear&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*And I always love to have toothbrushes in my stocking. But maybe this year I want the &lt;a href="http://www.orabrush.com/"&gt;Orabrush&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I also think a toy is always fun. Just a little one. Like last year I got a rubix cube. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So ya. Those are my 2 thoughts for the day :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8680259841577887619?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8680259841577887619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/revised-birthday-4811.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8680259841577887619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8680259841577887619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/12/revised-birthday-4811.html' title='Revised Birthday 4/8/11 and Christmas!'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-8708206147032675327</id><published>2010-11-28T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T20:50:41.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The true love story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Disney movies lie. It's as simple as that. There is no prince. There is no kiss that wakes you from a coma. There is no witch or wizard. Meeting and marrying a man in less than a week is a terrible thought. Kissing an animal or beast won't turn them human, or you animal. And teaching little girls that it's ok to meet and fall in love with a man you just met, is a really really bad idea. Which brings me to my second point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Girls make one huge mistake in dating. You want to be let in on the secret? You are too much of a girl. You were raised watching those love stories, dressing like a princess and expecting guys to make huge gestures to prove their love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jon and I met and dated. There was no horse. No blimps. No banners. No proclamations to the world. It was just us spending time together. Showing each other everyday that life is worth pressing forward, because the other person is in it. Love is simple. Life is hard. It is so easy to fall in love. It is hard to fit love into your life and live up to your expectations. When you finally realize that love is just love, minus the horse, it makes it easier to look for your mate. I'm not saying I was pro at anything. If any of you know me, you KNOW I was bad at dating, but I was lucky enough to find a man who dealt with me anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in the end. I prefer my love stories simple. Boy meets girl. Girl and Boy spend way too much time together. Boy and Girl most likely take a break thinking their relationship won't last. Boy and Girl realize the break was a bad idea. Girl asks boy if they can try again. Boy proposes. Boy and Girl get married. And it happens in OVER a week time period ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ThyQI79aL3E/TlR087fmnII/AAAAAAAABDY/0CPElw9W9Q0/s320/IMG_5635.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644264823113292930" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-8708206147032675327?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/8708206147032675327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/11/true-love-story.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8708206147032675327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/8708206147032675327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/11/true-love-story.html' title='The true love story'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ThyQI79aL3E/TlR087fmnII/AAAAAAAABDY/0CPElw9W9Q0/s72-c/IMG_5635.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8596163464216953794.post-1717497728191726803</id><published>2010-11-24T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T09:35:01.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've been at a kind of low point lately, so I think it would do me some good to do a Thankful list for this wonderful time of year. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Husband. Oh my heavens is he at the top of my list. I've never met anyone as supportive and wonderful as this man :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Baby girl. She brings so much joy and meaning to my life. I can't imagine a day without her beautiful face in it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*My job. I love it and getting paid is pretty awesome too&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Our vacuum. Ily makes such large messes and we vacuum 2-4 times a day. So i'm glad we have a nice once we can use often&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Food. I love food. Another great thing about work. Free bagels!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Friends and family. It's nice to have a loving support system close by (and further away)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*TV shows. I know that's lame, but Jon and I love to watch them together. And we have such different interests it's nice to have one that's the same&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Cellular devices. Such an awesome invention&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Ileyana getting teeth. She has had a hard time eating lots of normal food a kid her age would mostly because she couldn't chew through it. Now she is starting to be able to!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Technology in general. For obvious reasons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Disposable diapers. I'm not a cloth diaper kind of gal&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*Jon being able to get an education and his desire to want to go so much further in it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think that may be it for now. I just think I needed to remember all the good in my life. Thanks to B for doing that often on her blog. It encouraged me :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8596163464216953794-1717497728191726803?l=emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/feeds/1717497728191726803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1717497728191726803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8596163464216953794/posts/default/1717497728191726803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyschwarzmann.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Emmy Rae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17254991340525121414</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9bC61HZML2E/Tk6zJaA5EiI/AAAAAAAAA54/y842g5L-vDs/s220/IMG_5302.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
