<?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-3496849550734450425</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:46:17.884-08:00</updated><title type='text'>State of...where was I again?</title><subtitle type='html'>Follow a mother of two boys as she slowly loses her mind all while trying to hold it together.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>201</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1825030161643390107</id><published>2011-09-04T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T07:19:55.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My summer...in a nutshell (part uno)</title><content type='html'>Well my summer started off with meeting and falling in love with this guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srUhxJH_Yqc/TmOEa4pTw0I/AAAAAAAAASw/Xb0Ck-oD4Tw/s1600/jasonandI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srUhxJH_Yqc/TmOEa4pTw0I/AAAAAAAAASw/Xb0Ck-oD4Tw/s320/jasonandI.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;His name is Jason, he's amazing and we have such a great time with each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes I realize that I have a thing for Jasons'. Hahaha Hopefully this is the last one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my summer got REALLY busy with my nieces and nephew coming into town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pwZIQCmTUtI/TmOFxiQAf3I/AAAAAAAAAS0/3L4Q2JueblE/s1600/kids1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pwZIQCmTUtI/TmOFxiQAf3I/AAAAAAAAAS0/3L4Q2JueblE/s320/kids1.jpg" width="240" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;They are all moving to Germany so my sister sent them out for the summer. I loved having them around, even though they complained the whole time about how hot it was. Living in Washington for 3 years will make a warm summer day feel like a sauna to you I guess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjrLct8vUUc/TmOGihWkEZI/AAAAAAAAAS4/mctxMH0aw9s/s1600/kids2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjrLct8vUUc/TmOGihWkEZI/AAAAAAAAAS4/mctxMH0aw9s/s320/kids2.jpg" width="240" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We just spent the time hanging out and being silly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f1JFq6CEfxc/TmOHAPRhxxI/AAAAAAAAAS8/52YiooIuEjU/s1600/picknose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f1JFq6CEfxc/TmOHAPRhxxI/AAAAAAAAAS8/52YiooIuEjU/s320/picknose.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;See. Silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-73R9Kux_Bc8/TmOHqLV1Z6I/AAAAAAAAATA/jLt-O3vv8Ck/s1600/ride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-73R9Kux_Bc8/TmOHqLV1Z6I/AAAAAAAAATA/jLt-O3vv8Ck/s320/ride.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;OH then I turned 29 (yikes my last year in my 20's!!!!) and this hot stud muffin took me for a ride!!! Yes that's my dad, and yes Jason was incredibly jealous. Jealous that I got to go on a motorcycle ride and he didn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Next update...Deleware and DC, in one single weekend. Many more pics to follow!!!!﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1825030161643390107?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1825030161643390107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1825030161643390107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1825030161643390107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1825030161643390107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-summerin-nutshell-part-uno.html' title='My summer...in a nutshell (part uno)'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srUhxJH_Yqc/TmOEa4pTw0I/AAAAAAAAASw/Xb0Ck-oD4Tw/s72-c/jasonandI.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4683020332570756403</id><published>2011-06-28T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T19:27:41.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where the F have I been?</title><content type='html'>So much to fill you in on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so not really, I kinda lied. I wish there was SO much to fill you in on but really I got nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH-I ran a marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost died, but I ran that bitch like it was nobodys business! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently I'm gangsta now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok really let me get to the point. What I've been up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is kicking my butt, but I love it. I am putting in 10 hour work days and although time wise it sucks, it reflects nicely in my paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister decided to move to Germany. Well she didn't really, the Army decided for her. And she hasn't exactly moved yet, that doesn't come till fall time. But I am now getting ready to have my nieces and nephew in town for the whole summer which I am stoked about. These kids are awesome, love 'em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um lets see...ok so not much to update you on. Even though I feel like my life is passing me by faster than I can process it. The boys are growing faster than I can feed them, friends are moving in with boyfriends, and babies are being made and born all around me. Nothing much happening in my personal life i.e. no I am not dating anyone. Hoping to change that soon maybe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well stay tuned, I have a lot of blogs cooking in my brain. Entertaining ones. Ones that will make you laugh your ass off. haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4683020332570756403?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4683020332570756403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4683020332570756403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4683020332570756403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4683020332570756403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/06/where-f-have-i-been.html' title='Where the F have I been?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7101413989847996419</id><published>2011-03-16T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T14:41:30.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating mistakes men make</title><content type='html'>I was recently reading an article titled &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/user-post-the-7-deadly-mistakes-men-make-when-dating-2465027/"&gt;The 7 deadly mistakes men make when dating&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and I immediately thought to myself "wow, someone really thinks they only make 7?". I'm not going to pretend I'm perfect. I am SURE that I have made mistakes in the dating game. Like picking the wrong guy for one...haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now bear with me, I gave up dating for Lent (and no I am not even catholic!) so I have had sometime to think about dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is my list, in no particular order, of the mistakes that guys make in dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;strong&gt; You go for looks, and OVERlook personality. &lt;/strong&gt;Please don't get me wrong. I like pretty things too. But after an hour, you're gonna need something more to keep you occupied. Big boobies and a pretty face are nice, but being able to carry on an actual conversation os much more satisfying I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Judging a book by its cover. &lt;/strong&gt;Yes I realize I'm a girl. I realize that I may fit into that mold of being all dolled up in my makeup and high heels. But if you took the time to actually get to know me, you would find out that I am very down to earth, I look just as great in faded jeans and tennis shoes with my hair pulled back in a hat, and that I could be one of the coolest chicks you will ever know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Not all vagina's are the same. &lt;/strong&gt;Just like you get mad at us for generalizing you to be all the same, we aren't all the same. I realize that you have made poor decisions in the past and picked every single physcho chick out there that clings to you tighter than white on rice and freaks the freak out when you spend a minute apart...but I'm not that girl. I like time alone, I prefer for you to do your own thing so I don't have to feel like I'm babysitting you, and I can't stand the clingy crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Take me at my word. &lt;/strong&gt;I realize that plenty of other girls feel the need to play silly games. The most popular one is saying one thing when the totally mean another. But as previously stated, I'm not like most girls. I have found honesty to be the best policy so I just speak my mind. Good or bad I say the truth. So please do me a favor and just do the same in return. Don't hype yourself up that your this great guy unless you can totally prove it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Don't rush the sex.&lt;/strong&gt; If you're a great guy, we will see it in time and the sex will happen. A girl far more appreciates a guy who takes his time (both out and in the bedroom) than one who rushes things. Get to know me, at least know the color of my eyes, the day of my birth, and what I do for a living before you try to bang me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;A little creativity goes a long way.&lt;/strong&gt; Sure I can appreciate the romantic candlelit dinner, along with flowers and blah blah. But since I'm such a down to earth gal, I have an even better time doing things outdoors, catching a baseball game, or just hanging out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;strong&gt;Realize that until you become a major part of my life, you won't get a major part of my time. &lt;/strong&gt;I'm a busy girl. I have a job that keeps me busy, 2 young boys that don't let me rest, family, friends, and everyone needs sometime alone. I make time for things that matter to me, so until you prove yourself worthy of my time you wont get much of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7101413989847996419?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7101413989847996419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7101413989847996419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7101413989847996419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7101413989847996419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/03/dating-mistakes-men-make.html' title='Dating mistakes men make'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-9150746805388502290</id><published>2011-03-03T14:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T14:48:21.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd like to introduce you</title><content type='html'>I can’t hide this anymore. I am giddy with emotions and delight. I have met someone, and I am in love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you what has made me fall in love with this person. This person has the biggest heart. Honestly, this person loves and they love with their whole heart. They give without asking for anything in return. They will go to the ends of the earth for me. This person is always there for me when I am feeling down, offers me a funny joke , and knows when to kick my butt back into gear and gets me to snap out of it. They are my biggest fan, my most enthusiastic cheerleader, and the biggest supporter of all my crazy dreams. This person is the most beautiful person I have ever met in my whole entire life. And I am just in awe whenever I see them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it may be shocking when I tell you who this person is, but trust me I have been in a relationship with this person for a very long time and I am completely sure that this is the real deal. SO without further ado…here is the person that I am in a relationship with right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Dj8aFXC7qeY/TXAZxoIhfeI/AAAAAAAAASs/KMVUq-EpVAs/s1600/court2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="283" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Dj8aFXC7qeY/TXAZxoIhfeI/AAAAAAAAASs/KMVUq-EpVAs/s320/court2.bmp" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the person that I am in a relationship with is myself. I’ve had a lot of alone time. And in my alone time although there were some tears, instead of wallowing in my misery I took the time to self reflect on things. I looked into what mad me mad, sad, happy. What made me tick, what really made me laugh. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted in a relationship. How I want to be loved, what I can give to someone right now. And most of all, I have spent this time thinking about the things that I want to do. Just me. So I have gotten up and done them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what, I have gotten to discover that I am one pretty amazing girl. And to anyone that can’t see how great and amazing and fun I am to be with, SUCK IT! I am having a blast with myself, and its really starting to show and seep through to the relationships that I have with other people. Its almost like I’m a new person. NO, I am the person that I have always suppose to have been. And this person is pretty freaking cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I continue to be in this relationship, date this person, and open my life to her. Cause as long as I have her by my side I figure I’m not doing too bad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-9150746805388502290?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/9150746805388502290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=9150746805388502290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/9150746805388502290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/9150746805388502290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/03/id-like-to-introduce-you.html' title='I&apos;d like to introduce you'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Dj8aFXC7qeY/TXAZxoIhfeI/AAAAAAAAASs/KMVUq-EpVAs/s72-c/court2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2244706335256500370</id><published>2011-02-17T14:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T14:14:32.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>Random thoughts from me today because that's just me. Totally random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son in the mack daddy of all preschools boys out there. He plays with the girls in class. I don't just mean he walks over there and gives a little "How you doin?" but he plays with them all day. His teacher at our first quarter parent/teacher conference told us she thought he was shy because he only wanted to play with the girls. Nope. Just turns out he's picked up the knack for attention from the ladies early on. He now has the girls coloring him pictures, making him cards, heck they even attack him with hugs when he's leaving for the day. This boy has the moves. My hands are gonna be full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here for the past couple of days has been absolutely beautiful and I think its almost kinda sad that the weather alone has been the source of my good mood. Really. I just look out the window and see sunshine and the kaboom...smile on my face. I am so excited for spring to get here, got some major plans cooking already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't worked out for like a week because I have been sick, and for the first time in my LIFE I am bummed about it. There is something about working out that completely relaxes me and helps me release all this unnecessary stress I carry around. Headed to the gym tonight and&amp;nbsp;I am just hoping that I will be able to walk tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've discovered that I have an insane crush on my family doctor. I can't say that I just discovered this, I have known it for a long time.&amp;nbsp;I got all fevered when he came into the room and actually blushed when he lifted up my shirt to feel my stomach. Yes my lack of human contact&amp;nbsp; has caused me to get all hot and bothered by my doc pushing&amp;nbsp;in on my gut. lol. Even more depressing is how angry I was when leaving his office knowing that I wont get to see him again since my insurance changed and he's no longer covered. Thank goodness that the boys can still see him under my ex's insurance!! So all is not lost, and I will continue having this ridiculous crush on a man that has to look at my medical chart to know my name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2244706335256500370?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2244706335256500370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2244706335256500370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2244706335256500370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2244706335256500370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/02/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2432906041399200417</id><published>2011-02-10T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T13:51:39.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Theres an app for that</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8t4gfLpj1IY/TVRb_VqnfrI/AAAAAAAAASo/ksam7ELX5jI/s1600/Iphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8t4gfLpj1IY/TVRb_VqnfrI/AAAAAAAAASo/ksam7ELX5jI/s320/Iphone.jpg" width="176" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿Fuck. I dropped my IPhone. My brand new, bought for me by my dad, doesn’t have a case because I haven’t had time to buy one yet, IPhone. Well give the guy who designed the casing for it a freaking raise because the damn thing skated by unscathed. WHEW!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m a single mom. I’m a working single mom of two young kids. Boys. Who like to fight, scream, and beat each other up. My days are spent tending to my 3 doctors needs and mending broking hearts. I don’t get much free time. So yes I rely heavily on my cell phone to carry on needless text message conversations and finding out the latest celeb gossip. And I occasionally do smarty pants things on it too like look up medical information or check out world news. My phone is my life line to the outside world. I would die if I were to say drop it in the toilet. Like I did with my previous phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got to thinking just how greatful I was that my phone wasn’t broken. Even though I was careless IPhone user, didn’t pay attention to what I was doing and dropped it, my phone went right along doing what I always want it to do. Kinda like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve got a hard outer shell. My face is bright and shiny. I’m full of many useless apps that will make you laugh or get you important information at the drop of a hat. And just like my IPhone when dropped by the hands of a careless owner, I keep on going. I always give my all, I keep my battery charged as long as possible, and I’m there whenever you need me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes I may be a little pricier than other models, my accessories run a little bit higher, and my face is made of glass so you must handle with care. But for the most part, my apps are either cheap or free, I provide lots of entertainment for you, and I’m guaranteed to make your friends jealous when they see you carrying me around. OK so maybe not the last part, but I told you I had a sense of humor!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2432906041399200417?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2432906041399200417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2432906041399200417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2432906041399200417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2432906041399200417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/02/theres-app-for-that.html' title='Theres an app for that'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8t4gfLpj1IY/TVRb_VqnfrI/AAAAAAAAASo/ksam7ELX5jI/s72-c/Iphone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4640139493371604859</id><published>2011-02-02T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T14:23:04.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm (not) in the mood for love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TUnUiLX1aPI/AAAAAAAAASk/VEZch1lzTcs/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TUnUiLX1aPI/AAAAAAAAASk/VEZch1lzTcs/s1600/heart.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ok this is not the bitter divorced non-dating girl in me coming out. But I think Valentines day is a sham. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been big on Valentines. Don't get me wrong, I am a hopeless romantic. Really hopeless. I think up the cheesiest romantic situations, I should write some chick flicks. Seriously. And yes the girl in me is always secretly hoping for a big huge display of flowers delivered to me on Valentines day...at work...so I can make all the other girls jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously why does everyone freak the freak out over Vday? For real, get a sweet card, make me a nice dinner and call it a day. Why do we feel the need to&amp;nbsp;make such a big deal over a made up holiday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Because&amp;nbsp;its the one day out of the year that all of us follow the golden rule. You know the one we all learned when we were 5? Do onto&amp;nbsp;others as you would have done&amp;nbsp;onto you. &amp;nbsp;But why do we wait for the one magically day? And seriously ONE day? That's all we get for romance? Shouldn't we be showing our loved ones how much we love them more often than one day out of the year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where I'm going with this post today. I'm just irritated with how much we commercialize love. And with Valentines day fast approaching (totally off the topic but can y'all believe its already February?? Damn!), its just all thrown in my face and it almost makes me want to throw up. Really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4640139493371604859?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4640139493371604859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4640139493371604859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4640139493371604859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4640139493371604859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-not-in-mood-for-love.html' title='I&apos;m (not) in the mood for love'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TUnUiLX1aPI/AAAAAAAAASk/VEZch1lzTcs/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6788569081392274678</id><published>2011-01-07T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T16:38:27.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What NOT to do in 2011</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;Happy New Year!!! Yeah about a week late but whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you know how with a new year, you get a fresh new slate. A chance to start over. So that's exactly what I'm gonna do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made a lot of mistakes. A LOT of mistakes in my life. Some are minor&amp;nbsp;like forgetting to load the dishwasher or not turning in homework on time. And some of my mistakes, not so minor like hurting someone I love or dropping my phone in the toilet (hey I'm a single mom, my cell phone is at times my only link to the outside world!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the spirit of starting over, and knowing that I can only learn from my mistakes from the past to make my future better, here is a list of things that I will NOT do in 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Let my head fall in love before my heart does. Or vice versa. Its so easy to fall head over heels with someone who thinks you are the most awesome person ever. But its also easy to think someone is completely awesome when you don't really know the person. So next time (God willing it happens) I will try to find the balance of thinking with my head and my heart, and try to save everyone involved unnecessary heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Um I kinda hate to state the obvious but I will NOT get divorced. Like ever again.&amp;nbsp;Its hard, its taxing. It costs a lot of money and its not fun for ANYONE involved. That's all I'm gonna say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I will not get into a textual relationship with someone that I can't or won't have an ACTUAL real relationship with. Meaning I will not get my hopes up over silly texts that state silly things, only to not get anything in reality. Words will just be words to me now. I'm going to need some actual proof. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. In going with the dating thing...I will not settle. I will not waste my time. I WILL however realize that I am a beautiful, intelligent, funny, fun to be with girl and if a dude can't handle all of me, then he doesn't deserve ANY of me. Plan3 and simple. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I will&amp;nbsp;not suck&amp;nbsp;as a mom this year. I will stop making the excuse that I'm tired or don't have the energy and I will live every minute I have with my boys, for my boys. I will take them and show them new and exciting things, make sure there are plenty of laughs, and raise them to be the strong, loving men that I want them to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I will not pass up an opportunity to have fun! Ok lets be honest, I kinda did this in 2010 too. But I will try my very very best to not pass up offers of hanging with friends or doing something. Because who knows when I will be able to have fun again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I will not ever think that I have tomorrow guaranteed to me. Because its really not. So I will no longer think that something can wait till tomorrow. Unless its the dishes in the sink, because those CAN wait. If I am blessed to wake up tomorrow, those dishes will still be there. I'm just sayin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I will not feel self conscious about wearing my two piece this summer. Because I have worked hard to get this body to look like it does. And damn it I look good. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6788569081392274678?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6788569081392274678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6788569081392274678' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6788569081392274678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6788569081392274678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-not-to-do-in-2001.html' title='What NOT to do in 2011'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4172544150912191477</id><published>2011-01-05T14:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T14:19:41.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the Places you'll go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TSToQdR4XDI/AAAAAAAAASc/keiOXJ_ncQQ/s1600/ohtheplacesyoullgo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TSToQdR4XDI/AAAAAAAAASc/keiOXJ_ncQQ/s1600/ohtheplacesyoullgo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;How true this book rings to me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me awhile to get here. And it was never the place I thought I would be. I always thought I would have the husband, the kids, the white picket fence, and the shiny golden retriever running around the yard. Well now I have the kids, a tiny little wiener dog, and an apartment patio that is constantly covered in leaves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life is good, life is SO good. I'm happy with my&amp;nbsp;job, I'm happy with my kids, and I'm just happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The places I have gone have made me who I am today. And I am in control (with lots of help from the BIG guy)&amp;nbsp;of the places I will go tomorrow. Sometimes those places are dark and scary, but they make me appreciate the bright and happy places I do have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today in thinking where I have been and where I am going, I am leaving you with the rest of the most influential book I have ever read in my life. Oh the Places You'll go! By Dr. Seuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is your day.&lt;br /&gt;You’re off to Great Places!&lt;br /&gt;You’re off and away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have brains in your head.&lt;br /&gt;You have feet in your shoes.&lt;br /&gt;You can steer yourself any direction you choose.&lt;br /&gt;You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! The Places You’ll Go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ll be on your way up!&lt;br /&gt;You’ll be seeing great sights!&lt;br /&gt;You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except when you don’t.&lt;br /&gt;Because, sometimes, you won’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No! That’s not for you!&lt;br /&gt;Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All Alone!&lt;br /&gt;Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And will you succeed?&lt;br /&gt;Yes! You will, indeed!&lt;br /&gt;(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kid, you’ll move mountains!&lt;br /&gt;So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is your day!&lt;br /&gt;Your mountain is waiting.&lt;br /&gt;So…get on your way!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4172544150912191477?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4172544150912191477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4172544150912191477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4172544150912191477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4172544150912191477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2011/01/oh-places-youll-go.html' title='Oh the Places you&apos;ll go'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TSToQdR4XDI/AAAAAAAAASc/keiOXJ_ncQQ/s72-c/ohtheplacesyoullgo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8667918413370843235</id><published>2010-12-30T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T12:31:06.344-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home from work today, incredibly annoyed that I didn't have any plans for New Years Eve and wanting desperately to take a nap, I realized how thankful I should be for all the things I have in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its easy, incredibly easy to take for granted the many blessings you do have in your life. We can get so caught up in thinking about the things that we want, an working to get the things that we find out in the end, we never really needed. Expensive electronics, top of&amp;nbsp;the line products,&amp;nbsp;fancy cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pass a homeless lady almost every single day on my way home from work. And I never leave the office at the same time of day. Today I was lucky enough to be able to leave a few hours earlier&amp;nbsp;than I normally do. And as I came up to the corner of WH Taft and&amp;nbsp;50 there she was, where she usually stands holding her sign. "Lost everything, any penny helps. God Bless You." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of my thoughts, silly thoughts of "damn my head hurts", "Gosh I'm so tired" and, "Why can't I have a pretty, shiny, black Beamer like my doctor drives?" I started to think clearly. Thank God that I have a job that allows me to support me and my boys. I can pay my bills with ease. Buying meals is never a worry for me. If I wanna go somewhere, I can get in my car and drive there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is a struggle, it is for everyone. We all have our sets of problems. But I am so incredibly blessed with the things that I DO have, I can't see stressing about the things that I don't. Because some people don't have the basic necessities like, food, water, or a home. Life is great and I am so blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8667918413370843235?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8667918413370843235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8667918413370843235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8667918413370843235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8667918413370843235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/12/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6421934695669102850</id><published>2010-12-26T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T10:07:47.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>First let me start by saying WOW Christmas is already over. We had an amazing Christmas this year. I actually didn't feel the stress of running around and doing this and that. I got to bake the ham and the boys and I just hung out and enjoyed our time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes now Christmas is over. Moving forward as I always struggle to do, I am looking forward to New Years. 2011 already really? So as most people do, I start to think about my resolutions that I will make this year. Lose weight? Nope don't want to become invisible. Stay in better touch with loved ones?&amp;nbsp;Already have unlimited texting. haha. I thought I would make some different resolutions this year. Almost a list of goals that I&amp;nbsp;hope to achieve this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Running a marathon. Well a half of one but still. Because I just can't torture myself enough with just regular workouts and such I feel the need to kill myself by training. I hate to run. But I love to&amp;nbsp;prove people wrong, even if its myself at times. So I'm gonna do it, and be so proud of myself. And brag that I ran a marathon.&amp;nbsp;For a long time. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Go for a ride in a little two seater prop plane.&amp;nbsp;Because life is just not worth living until you face a near death experience. Lol. I love to fly,&amp;nbsp;I get a rush even when I take a commercial flight. I want to get my license, but I&amp;nbsp;figured I needed to&amp;nbsp;make my goals reachable and that a one hour ride may be a little more affordable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Finally learn to play the guitar.&amp;nbsp;Because chicks who play the guitar are HOT! I kid I kid. Because I have ALWAYS wanted to and&amp;nbsp;am at a point in my life where I have a little bit of free time. So why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Take a trip with my boys.&amp;nbsp;I've got friends and family all over the states and its time we get out and see them. Whether we go near or far, that has yet to be determined by the bank account. But we will go and I can't wait to see the boys enjoy their first trip , at least one that they will semi-remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fall in love. For real. haha. I know this one is circumstantial. But I want to make it a possibility. I've kinda put all of that on the back burner these past few months, but perhaps its time to change that. I know its gonna be hard since I'm a single mom, training for a marathon, working 40+ hours a week and I already have my life filled with family and friends, but nothing worth while comes easy So I guess I should rephrase it and say I want to make myself open to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6421934695669102850?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6421934695669102850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6421934695669102850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6421934695669102850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6421934695669102850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/12/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7830260507491292430</id><published>2010-10-31T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T11:10:27.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Believe</title><content type='html'>As easy of a concept it seems to us, we often forget to believe. I always forget to believe and I have it freakin tattooed on my wrist, literally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my biggest things in life is that we always have to believe. Believe in a higher power, that things will always get better, believe in love...whatever. Just that we need to believe in something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as we go through day to day life, and the stress of it gets to us all, we often forget to believe. And then it only makes it easier to fall into the negative and learn to hate life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, I am choosing to believe that its gonna happen for me. I will someday find love, learn how to balance everything, finally finish school, and find 100% happiness within myself. So today I am choosing to believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7830260507491292430?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7830260507491292430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7830260507491292430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7830260507491292430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7830260507491292430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/believe.html' title='Believe'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2271881496691878139</id><published>2010-10-28T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T14:18:30.448-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I want to marry Justin Timeberlake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TMnmSd5Cm_I/AAAAAAAAASQ/c_Ub6c6S0Ns/s1600/justin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TMnmSd5Cm_I/AAAAAAAAASQ/c_Ub6c6S0Ns/s1600/justin.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Oh where do I begin?? Justin, how I love you...let me count the ways!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;First and foremost, I love how talented he is musically. I was thinking to myself this morning just how much music I love that he has either done, produced, featured in, wrote, collaborated or whatever. I love music, can't get through a day without it and I think he is so talented.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Number 2. He is freakin hilarious!! He has a great sense of humor and I love to laugh. What&amp;nbsp;a great combination.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;He can dance. And you know what they say, the way a person moves on the dance floor is how the do...well you know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;His smile. He has the CUTEST smile ever. There's such a sweet, innocent, boyish charm to that smile. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;He's southern, so he knows how to treat&amp;nbsp;a girl. At least this is what I tell myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿Aye me, someday I will be Mrs. Timberlake. Someday...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;OH BTW-the move went great! I am in my place now and living on my own. Its taking some getting used to but I will manage!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2271881496691878139?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2271881496691878139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2271881496691878139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2271881496691878139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2271881496691878139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/why-i-want-to-marry-justin-timeberlake.html' title='Why I want to marry Justin Timeberlake'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TMnmSd5Cm_I/AAAAAAAAASQ/c_Ub6c6S0Ns/s72-c/justin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7173892780804932236</id><published>2010-10-14T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T16:31:45.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving day is near!</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is the BIG day!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am nervous, excited, scared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I have never lived on my own. Ever! I went straight from living with my parents to living with my now soon to be ex husbands house. I've never had the opportunity to run around naked (well alone at least), have TOTAL control over the remote, or been fully financial responsible for rent and all the other bills. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can not wait to take on this new journey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For once, I can paint my toenails in the living room and not have to worry about anyone else. I can have pink towels and a purple duvet cover. The boys and I can blast the music and dance around and be goofy. I can do things my way, and just the way I want it. Yes I may be "alone" or as I like to say as alone as a single mom can get. Yes I may be broke by the time bills are paid. But I will be doing it my way. And that seems like a pretty awesome way to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7173892780804932236?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7173892780804932236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7173892780804932236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7173892780804932236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7173892780804932236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/moving-day-is-near.html' title='Moving day is near!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5547264644842431848</id><published>2010-10-11T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T18:10:43.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook is my daily entertainment</title><content type='html'>Its not a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could keep my cool, be mysterious. But everyone knows it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an avid Facebooker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I am on of the obnoxious ones. You know one of those people that updates their status like every 5 minutes.And&amp;nbsp;PLEASE tell me if I am one of those facebookers. Cause then I can delete you from my friends list. lol.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at work BOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just took the kids to school, now running errands!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually put up one status and that stays for about a day. Unless there's a game on. Then I update with every shitty call or team victory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But lately the really small things humor me. Like all the pages you can like on Facebook. I can seriously get lost for hours reading all the pages that are out there. You know ones like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say I'm dirty-minded, but how did you understand what I meant? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really shouldn't have said that...but you pissed me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try not to laugh at my own jokes, but we all know I'm hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me? Sarcastic? Never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or my fav&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intelligent, classy, well-educated women who say FUCK a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a simple girl, simple things amuse me. I will no longer be ashamed to admit that I literally LOL when I read some of these things.&amp;nbsp;Rest assured though that I only actually&amp;nbsp;like the ones that are really funny. At least to me. But I just admitted to spending hours reading stupid things on the internet so I don't know&amp;nbsp;how well you can&amp;nbsp;trust my judgement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5547264644842431848?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5547264644842431848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5547264644842431848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5547264644842431848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5547264644842431848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/facebook-is-my-daily-entertainment.html' title='Facebook is my daily entertainment'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5782979323379337556</id><published>2010-10-10T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T19:19:02.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid s*#t I say</title><content type='html'>I am a well educated person. I like to educate myself on all things culture. And I usually think about the words I am going to say before I say the. Usually that is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes the stupidest SHIT comes out of my mouth!!! Not dumb things a la Jessica Simpson but things that I just don't think about before I say them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the other day for example. My dear sweet Luke was being a cranky 2 year old. He hadn't gotten a nap and I was keeping him up because it was too late to take a nap. So of course with every little thing he whines. "Hey Lucas do you want some candy (yes I DO result to desperate measures in desperate times)?". "NNNNNNNNNNOOOOO Mommy I don't want you!". So after several minutes of hearing him whine, I lost my cool and blurted out "Gosh do you have to act like such a little child?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when I was watching that show Life on discovery with the boys.&amp;nbsp;We were watching how the hyenas do sneak attacks on the lions at night because they out number the lions, and they steal the lions food. I mean we are watching it right there, its right in front of my face and I simply ask "Do hyenas eat meat?". Of course they do dumb ass, that's why they are risking their life and limbs right there on TV to steal a dead animal from a pride of lions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I turn on a football game, and I have to ask "Who are they playing?" because its just not that obvious to me who the other team is, that's a classic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my all time favorite, and one that my family will never let me live down...I was cheering for basketball my freshman year. There really wasn't a crowd to be cheering for, I do believe our team was sucking butt, and I was literally exhausted. So our team goes up for a free throw. And us being the peppy cheerleaders that we were suppose to be, we needed to (as they say) show our spirit. And all I could think was "just get the f-ing ball in the hoop so we can get on with the game and go home" so right as the "crowd" went quiet, I shouted out "Get it in!". For EVERY ONE to hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes I say stupid shit, and I happen to say stupid shit a lot. You know a girl can only devote SO much time to being smart, funny, sexy, and well spoken. Every once in awhile, they real me comes out, and I have to say...its pretty comical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5782979323379337556?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5782979323379337556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5782979323379337556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5782979323379337556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5782979323379337556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/stupid-st-i-say.html' title='Stupid s*#t I say'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-202032912343827559</id><published>2010-10-09T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T10:23:32.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The friendships I keep</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TLCcRnW748I/AAAAAAAAASI/EquNOic7zrA/s1600/bestfriend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ex="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TLCcRnW748I/AAAAAAAAASI/EquNOic7zrA/s1600/bestfriend.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿So I should be packing. I move next weekend and I really need to get all my crap together. But as I often do, I am procrastinating so I veered my way over here and thought I would blog instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I got to thinking about the many friendships I keep and how odd my circle of friends is. Not that any of my friends are odd mind you, or maybe they are and that's why we get along so well. But I meant the situations of how I know them or what not that is odd. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Looking on Facebook (cause we all know that all 200 and something people on my friends list are the best of the best friends), you will see that I have several friends from all over the states. Colorado, Texas, Hawaii.&amp;nbsp;Some of my friends are those&amp;nbsp;that I made in high school. Some of my friends I have never even really met in person.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But back to my "odd"&amp;nbsp;friendships. I am one of the weird ones who oddly enough is able to stay friends with her exes. Its the truth. I still talk to my very first boyfriend from back in the day!&amp;nbsp;But even weirder than that, I am still really good&amp;nbsp;friends with one of my exes sisters. Even though she lives far away from me.&amp;nbsp;And I am still kinda close with my ex husband.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Its kinda funny how we always tend to put all this&amp;nbsp;thought and analyzing into our relationships, when somehow they all work out for the best in the end.&amp;nbsp;Friends come and sometimes sadly they go. But those that matter the most to you in your life stay around and are always there for you. I wouldn't change any of my friendship, except maybe the location of a&amp;nbsp;few, and I am so thankful that I have those that I can always count on. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-202032912343827559?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/202032912343827559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=202032912343827559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/202032912343827559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/202032912343827559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/friendships-i-keep.html' title='The friendships I keep'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TLCcRnW748I/AAAAAAAAASI/EquNOic7zrA/s72-c/bestfriend.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2372206688630582947</id><published>2010-10-07T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T14:41:26.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just when you think you're having a bad day</title><content type='html'>God sees to always find a way to send you a little friendly reminder that it could always be worse for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that we all have our bad times. Losing a job, or a loved one. Or even just a series of unfortunate events like broken hearts, empty bank accounts, and unruly kids that just get you down in a funk. And just when you think that things couldn't get any more worse for you, you get your reminder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having a bad last few days. With my trip to the ER Saturday, things at work, and moving within a weeks time, I've been a little stressed. And when your stressed out things just don't seem to go your way. So to be totally honest, I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I had a patient today that totally changed my thinking. This patient of ours had a seemingly standard procedure scheduled. We were set to remove 2 teeth for him. But sadly enough, he had Alzheimer's and&amp;nbsp;had the mindset of a 5 year old.&amp;nbsp;The poor guy was terrified. After everything was said and done, I was talking to the man and his caretakers that were there with him. While explaining to his caretakers that he would need to be on a liquid diet for the next few days I suggested things like juices, broths and milkshakes. The mere mention of milkshakes caught his attention and brought a gleam to his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can have milkshakes?" he asked me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you like milkshakes?" I asked him back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh-huh!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I told him that I liked milkshakes too and I wish that I could join him for one but I had to stay at work and he so innocently replied back to me "You're not going to get mad at me for having one are you?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I told him no and assured him that he deserved a big milkshake for everything he had to go through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its times like that when you are reminded just how fragile life is. My heart breaks for anyone that has had to deal with Alzheimer's in any way, shape, or form as it is the most difficult disease to live with. So I went on with my day reminded just how lucky I am to have what I do have. Yes sometimes bad things happen, but its never anything that I can't handle and I know that I can only be a better person in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2372206688630582947?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2372206688630582947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2372206688630582947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2372206688630582947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2372206688630582947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-when-you-think-youre-having-bad.html' title='Just when you think you&apos;re having a bad day'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-29339954064313624</id><published>2010-10-04T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T14:49:37.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TKpEp8PkoNI/AAAAAAAAASE/Gpr3UzzFb0s/s1600/wtf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TKpEp8PkoNI/AAAAAAAAASE/Gpr3UzzFb0s/s1600/wtf.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome folks to another edition of Random Thoughts by Courtney. So&amp;nbsp;since the work week is BUSY and I have to move&amp;nbsp;in a few weeks, my thoughts are kinda scattered and random lately.&amp;nbsp;Buckle your seatbelts and hold on tight, we have some really random ones today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~So I passed a house on my way to work this morning where the people who lived there must have raked leaves over the weekend because there was a huge pile of leaves in the front yard. I have to say that a REALLY huge part of me wanted to pull my car over and jump into the pile. So what if I am 28 years old? And it was dark out? And I didn't know the people who lived there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Really what do people think when they see me jamming out to music at 5:30 in the morning in my car? Do they think "Wow I wish I could be that happy of a person and find joy at being up so freaking early in the morning"? Or do they think "Listen crazy, its 5:30 in the morning, chillax!"? I'm pretty sure its the later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Is Lady Ga Ga really so weird like 100 percent of the time? Do you really think she walks around draped in meat while she's grocery shopping or picking out underwear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~You know I usually don't mind being lost in a crowd. Even though I am a lovely Leo and I like the spotlight on me, I don't mind being a small fish in a big pond. But lately it feels like instead of being lost in the crowd, the crowd has almost swallowed me whole and I have become the ground that they trample on. Its an odd feeling and I don't know&amp;nbsp;any other way to&amp;nbsp;describe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I've gone a little boy crazy lately. Blame it on my raging hormones. Blame it on me being single. Blame it on the al-al-al-al-al-alcohol...lol. But I can't help myself with all these cute boys I keep running into lately. Unfortunately most of them are married. Or taken. Or don't notice me.&amp;nbsp;Go figure. Such is my luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~OH-I thought I was having a heart attack Saturday. I was scared out of my mind. I didn't want to go to the ER outta fear that they would tell me that I am not so intelligent and it was just gas or a pulled muscle. But the pains in my chest where just WAY too much so my ex-husband took me in. Turns out I had pleurisy&amp;nbsp;which is basically an infection between your heart and lungs. So I am not dying, nor did I have a heart attack. But I am better now, and I can officially say I have never been more freaked in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~BTW-I have never felt more alone in my whole entire life than I did with my little ER episode Saturday. Yes my ex and I are still on good grounds and no I am not trying to play&amp;nbsp;pity party on Courtney. But since my mom and dad live like an hour away, I had no one&amp;nbsp;else to call on in my hour of need. I felt really alone and it probably made me freak even more than what I needed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;~With all the sad sack thoughts I have been having, it humors me that my eternal "half glass full" spirit in me immediately follows a sad dark thought with "but hey it could always be worse and you can only make it better.". I guess its kinda comforting to know that sad thoughts I have sometimes are just fleeting and that I will always find the brighter side of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~On the plus side, I finally tried Nutella and I am in LOVE!! The good thing, I get the taste and joy of chocolate and its semi ok for me to eat. At least its not loaded with like high fructose corn syrup and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-29339954064313624?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/29339954064313624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=29339954064313624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/29339954064313624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/29339954064313624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TKpEp8PkoNI/AAAAAAAAASE/Gpr3UzzFb0s/s72-c/wtf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3658359959696289696</id><published>2010-10-03T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T08:38:34.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Music is the soundtrack of my soul</title><content type='html'>Ok so I may not be THAT big of a music freak, but I do love music. I usually have music on no matter what I'm doing. We have it on at work, I can't drive without it, and me and the boys LOVE to put on music and dance around. So its always on for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I got to thinking today about those certain songs that stick with us. Yeah there's always something new to listen to or some great new artist, but it truly is the "classics" that stay with us forever. So I thought I would share some of my favs with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here they are in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Me and My Girlfriend by JayZ featuring Beyonce. I pretty much love anything by JayZ but this is my favorite. I never get sick of this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~She's Got&amp;nbsp;a Way by Billy Joel. My first boyfriend&amp;nbsp;danced with me to this song on our first date. That is a memory I will never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Kiss by Prince. Because no matter how old that song is, you can't help&amp;nbsp;but sing along and dance to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ I just called to say I Love You by Stevie Wonder. This song of course was very popular when I was very young but I used to sing it all the time. When I lived in Texas and was SO far away from my family, I used to call them and sing this song to them. I feel its important to just call someone to say you love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Sunshine of my Life by Stevie Wonder. This song always makes me think of my boys because they are the sunshine of my life. I used to listen to this song ALL the time when I was pregnant with my first son Eddie. The lyrics are really sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra. Also done by my boyfriend Micheal Buble and also by The Laurie Berkner Band which unless your a parent of small children you may not know the later artist. When Luke was a baby he didn't really like listening to music at night like his big brother does. So I would rock him in the rocking chair and sing. And his favorite was Fly me to the Moon. He still loves to hear it&amp;nbsp;now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Crazy in Love by Beyonce. Haha. This song was REALLY popular the summer that I turned 21. That was a GREAT summer and I still have the best memories from so long ago. And yes I still try to pop my booty like Beyonce does in the music video every time I hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Anything by the Beatles. My whole family is very much into music but I remember nights when my dad and I would just sit together and listen to music. Some nights it was Meryl Haggard, some nights it was Creedence Clear Water, but most nights it was the Beatles. I was SO fascinated with the fact that my dad was a teenager when they were first out and he would tell me stories about how he watched them LIVE on American Bandstand. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Anything by Madonna. Because it reminds me of growing up with my sister and how much we were in love with her. I remember when my sister was in high school and drove her Saab. We would blast Madonna in her CD player and cruise around the streets of Grand Junction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Some Broadway things like the soundtrack of Chicago, Les Miserable, Oklahoma, and so many more. Because they remind me of my high school days when I had big dreams of going to a performance arts school and performing on Broadway some day. I still love the theatre to this day so yes sometimes my music to jam to is Broadway tunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its funny how some lyrics to certain songs can really get to you. Some you hear and LOVE until the radio out plays them and then you never want to listen to again. But there are those that stick with you forever and you will never get tired of hearing them. I have many more songs that mean so much to me but I could go on forever with those.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3658359959696289696?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3658359959696289696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3658359959696289696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3658359959696289696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3658359959696289696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/10/music-is-soundtrack-of-my-soul.html' title='Music is the soundtrack of my soul'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-149819369228373401</id><published>2010-09-30T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T15:08:58.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The most AWESOME kids ever!</title><content type='html'>Ok you know that&amp;nbsp;I &lt;strike&gt;love &lt;/strike&gt;hate to brag about my boys. But I just have to for a minute. These two boy are the most amazing kids...EVER!&amp;nbsp;Yes, oh my goodness they drive me nuts at least 5 times a day but they are SO awesome that I often forget&amp;nbsp;those moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie is totally rocking preschool. You should have heard my excitement the other day when I was looking over his school work and admiring his I's.&amp;nbsp;He's coming home singing songs that they have learned and he's so proud of his artwork. But the cutest thing is the relationships he's starting to develop. For the longest time he was telling me about a girl in his class named Barry. I thought to myself Barry? That's an odd name but hey to each their own. I soon discovered that her name was Bailey and he was just pronouncing it wrong. My boys first crush, too cute! And&amp;nbsp;when I am lucky and get to pick him up&amp;nbsp;right after school, &amp;nbsp;everyone in his class has to make sure to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucas just seems to be getting bigger. Even though size wise he's kinda small...he's really starting to learn his ABC's and he can count to 10. And because his older brother is SO cool, he's really looking forward to going to school himself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love these guys. They really make my life what it is. I love being their mom. It is honestly the biggest challenge I have ever faced in my whole life, but that makes me it so much more rewarding. They make me laugh, the drive me insane, the cuddle up to me and they both throw a pretty mean football. I am so thankful for them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-149819369228373401?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/149819369228373401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=149819369228373401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/149819369228373401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/149819369228373401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/most-awesome-kids-ever.html' title='The most AWESOME kids ever!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-532853341054028126</id><published>2010-09-29T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T14:22:11.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's just not that into you</title><content type='html'>Or is he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is he being nice, or is he laying the groundwork to potentially blow your socks off? Does he just want to get into your pants or does he really see that picket fence with 2.5 kids and a golden retriever with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the questions. The pondering. The many situations that you play out in your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be a girl, and to have emotion driving your every force. Because you can't just take it for what it is, you have to psycho analyze EVERYTHING.&amp;nbsp;And the sad thing is you don't even realize your doing it. Its like diarrhea of the mind, it just comes out without warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all we really want to know is do you like me? And do you like me for the goofy girl that I am?&amp;nbsp;Because so many have fooled me in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can't help it. Its how we are wired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for now, I lay my mind to rest. Cause I'm tired of wondering IF a guy likes me or what I could do to make a guy like me more. My mindset will be more aimed as to what a freakin LOSER he is for not seeing how cool of a chick I am and his loss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just sayin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-532853341054028126?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/532853341054028126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=532853341054028126' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/532853341054028126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/532853341054028126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/hes-just-not-that-into-you.html' title='He&apos;s just not that into you'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-255337013461656233</id><published>2010-09-28T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T09:47:50.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making the move</title><content type='html'>So the big moving day for me is on the 15th. I am SO super excited, a little bit scared, and SO ready to do this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I have been living with my soon to be ex husband since we separated. I know to the outside looking in how awkward, uncomfortable, and just plain 'ol weird this sounds. But I will give you the story, at least the short version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a stay at home mom for 4 years. It was the best decision for our family at the time for me to stay home with the kids. And honestly, it was THE best decision I think we could have made, and I am SO thankful for all that time I got to spend with my children. But lets be honest...the pay was CRAP. Don't get me wrong, the ex hubs made the money, bills were taken care of blah blah...but I didn't bring any income in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am starting all over again. Of course you all know that I am back to work (and yes I still LOVE it!) so now its time to get the show on the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my apartment and I move in a couple of weeks. As excited as I am, I am also kinda nervous. I have never actually lived on my own before. I went straight from my parents house, to my husbands house. So now its all on me. Which is cool, I am all about responsibility, but I'm a little freaked out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am just focusing on all the exciting stuff of getting my own place. Like the fact that I can totally girlify the place and there is no one that can complain about it. I have a bathroom to myself so no more seats that get left up, and its my place. My home that I get to start with my boys. I am ready to take this on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-255337013461656233?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/255337013461656233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=255337013461656233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/255337013461656233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/255337013461656233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/making-move.html' title='Making the move'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2118461038687476941</id><published>2010-09-27T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T13:48:35.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why does dating suck?</title><content type='html'>Okay so of course you know that I read all these other blogs. Why? Because reading other peoples thoughts and opinions make me feel more normal that I should ever feel. Its comforting. My soul food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK. So I read this blog titled &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/the-7-most-frustrating-things-about-dating-2393474/"&gt;The 7 Most Frustrating Things About Dating&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and I got to thinking...this dude could only find 7 things? lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe this is this dudes problem. That he's finding dating frustrating. You know instead of enjoying the experience, just having fun with it...homeboy is too stressed out. He goes as far as to say that it makes you feel bad about yourself. So you're gonna feel bad about yourself cause some loser can't see how great you are and decides to try and find someone better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I am feeling normal because I don't see the stress in dating. Perhaps cause I haven't been at it for a long time, but still...why all the stress about it? Just crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2118461038687476941?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2118461038687476941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2118461038687476941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2118461038687476941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2118461038687476941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/why-does-dating-suck.html' title='Why does dating suck?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7606008705159730436</id><published>2010-09-26T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T08:42:19.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All my single ladies</title><content type='html'>Yes, I just ripped off a line from a Beyonce song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So an interesting study was just published about &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/the-5-best-and-worst-cities-for-single-women-2393403/"&gt;The 5 Best (and Worst) Cities for Single Woman&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This study is based on the&amp;nbsp;operational sex ratio which is the number of sexually available men per 100 sexually available woman (sexually available? I'm assuming that means...single people), multiplied by 100. A ratio of 100 means a balanced population, while numbers larger than 100 indicate a surplus of men. A ratio of 110, for example, means 11 men are available for every 10 women. A ratio of 90 would mean nine men are available for every 10 women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically what that breaks down to is this, due to averages, the number of single available men to single available women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So in the 50 largest metropolitan areas in the United States, this is how they rank. Here are the top 5 cities:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Las Vegas: 11.6 sexually available men for every 10 sexually available ladies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•San Diego: 11.5 men for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Salt Lake City: 11.3 men for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Austin, Texas: 11.2 men for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Phoenix: 11.1 men for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And here are the top 5&amp;nbsp;worst places:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;•Birmingham, Alabama: 8.8 men for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Memphis, Tennessee: 8.8 for every 10 ladies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•New Orleans: 8.9 for every 10 ladies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•Richmond, Virginia.: 8.9 for every 10 ladies &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;And in a painful 3 way tie... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;New York City, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C.! Each of these cities has 9.2 sexually available men for every 10 sexually available women!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cincinnati, the city that I call home right now, fell in the middle of the list. So I guess that's a 50/50 chance for me. Hmmmm...a move back to Austin is sounding appealing right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7606008705159730436?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7606008705159730436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7606008705159730436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7606008705159730436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7606008705159730436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/all-my-single-ladies.html' title='All my single ladies'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4494727041698708168</id><published>2010-09-22T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T14:01:59.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Believe</title><content type='html'>Stop the presses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really mark your calendar. You heard it here first folks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am starting to believe again. I had a brief moment in time when I was trying to push myself into believing that love was possible. That I may someday find "the love of my life" and that I was going to be happy, romantically, again. That was such&amp;nbsp;a fleeting moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got out and started dating again. I put myself out there, got to know some fellas. But, as it often does in life, things didn't work out and I was-dare I even say it?-alone again. I mean of course I am never really alone but you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So bitter me came out again. Perhaps she never really left. And I know you all are rolling your eyes...its to early, blah blah blah. But trust me, I have a good head on my shoulders, I'm making good decisions. I am not looking for my next new husband. I am not looking for anything serious. I'm not even looking really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I find myself starting to believe again, that maybe someday it will happen for me. I no longer hear sappy love songs and want to poke my eyes out. I can go back to watching romantic comedies and maybe still not believe in them, but not feel like I want to vomit. And I can start to see myself perhaps someday opening myself&amp;nbsp; to somebody in the hopes that I will find my &lt;strike&gt;happily ever after, prince charming,&lt;/strike&gt; love story. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey we all have to have SOME type of jumping off point don't we?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4494727041698708168?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4494727041698708168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4494727041698708168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4494727041698708168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4494727041698708168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/believe.html' title='Believe'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4859533020825812028</id><published>2010-09-16T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T18:03:36.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is my time going?</title><content type='html'>Hella crazy. Things have been HELLA crazy lately. And when I stop to think about it, I really haven't been doing much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is going really good. I am catching on quickly and I have already jumped into assisting with a few surgeries. I'm feeling great about where things are going professional for me and its been a long time since I have felt that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie is doing really good with school. He sure gives his dad a lot of trouble with drop off, but I am sure that he'll get over it once he's a little more used to it. Its been amazing to see him come home and sing me songs that he's learned or when I check his back pack after school and see the pictures and drawings that he's made. He's talking about friends that he's making and how much fun he has. Its great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly enough, that's really all that's been going on. My "free" time has just been spent with friends trying to enjoy whats left of summer. Days at the lake, being able to enjoy a few drinks out on the patio at night. Things are going great. Just trying to enjoy life when I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So nothing too exciting to update y'all on. Just thought I would let y'all know that I'm still here. Well most days I am! haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4859533020825812028?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4859533020825812028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4859533020825812028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4859533020825812028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4859533020825812028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/where-is-my-time-going.html' title='Where is my time going?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4231893006178728314</id><published>2010-09-08T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T18:00:56.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look at my BIG boy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TIgtU9O9pDI/AAAAAAAAAR8/7kZBQg7R184/s1600/38576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TIgtU9O9pDI/AAAAAAAAAR8/7kZBQg7R184/s320/38576.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;We survived our first days together!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Eddie had his first day of preschool on the day&amp;nbsp;that I started my new job. The totally sucky thing? I wasn't&amp;nbsp;able to take him to school. But I got to take him today so its all good.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;He is such a big boy! I am so proud of him. I was really worried&amp;nbsp;about him taking directions and listening to his teacher cause lets be honest...he doesn't do a stitch of that at home. But so far he's gotten green&amp;nbsp;check marks on his calendar which means that he is behaving just right at school. He's already singing me songs that they sing and today he was telling me all about cows. He is having a BLAST and I am so excited. I was afraid that he was going to hate it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The new job is FANTASTIC! I love it!&amp;nbsp;Yeah I almost fainted on my first day...haha funny story actually. So&amp;nbsp;Tuesday was my first day. I started the day with HR doing all my new hire paperwork. And of course it just makes &lt;strike&gt;absolutely no&lt;/strike&gt; sense to have HR in a completely separate building miles down the road from my office. So after a couple hours of paperwork, I then had to proceed&amp;nbsp;to the other side of town to get my parking pass. Finally I could get my butt to work. So I park in the garage across the street from my office on the 7th floor...take the stairs down so I can cross the street in like 100 degree weather...only to get in on an elevator with 40 other people that took 20 mintues to get back up to the 7th floor. So I was a little hot and flustered at this moment. I finally actually got into the office and my office manager tosses me a gown and throws me in a room to shadow another assistant. Full mouth extraction which means EVERY single tooth in this poor mans mouth was being removed. OH and toss in like 4 other residents into this small room with us and I started sweating. The room started to spin so I excused myself out into the hall. It was awesome. I got made fun of the rest of the day. But at least I made everyone laugh and it was a good way to break the ice with everyone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I love my new job so far. Everyone in the office is really nice, even the doctors and residents. The other assistants I work with are just as goofy as me, so I am sure we will be able to help each other through stressful days. I am going to learn SO much, I can not wait to see whats in store for me here!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all in all, Eddie and I both survived our first days. Yeah we were both a little nervous but at the end of the day we realized there wasn't anything we couldn't handle!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4231893006178728314?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4231893006178728314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4231893006178728314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4231893006178728314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4231893006178728314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/look-at-my-big-boy.html' title='Look at my BIG boy!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TIgtU9O9pDI/AAAAAAAAAR8/7kZBQg7R184/s72-c/38576.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-201920405857012942</id><published>2010-09-07T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T18:23:46.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Table for one</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TILyUm8VeAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/vLJWM2B_sG4/s1600/tableone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TILyUm8VeAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/vLJWM2B_sG4/s320/tableone.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Lets all be honest here. Being single sucks sometimes. You don't have that guaranteed date Friday or Saturday night. You have no strong, burly man to take you to a scary movie. And a nice little cuddle before bed time is always sweet. But there are some plus sides to being single. And I am spending my single time finding them out. Like...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Just how nice it is to have the queen sized bed to yourself. You can stretch out. You don't lose any sleep at night because your cold cause someone stole all the covers. You don't have to do the awkward rolling over, you can just roll cause there's no one there that you could take out. Very restful sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~You can be totally goofy cause your not worried about having to be sexy for someone. I know I know...when your in love, your significant other is always attracted to you blah blah blah...But when your single, you can lounge around all day with no make-up, hair a mess, glasses on, and not have to worry about sexing yourself up for anyone. Its weird, but its nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~You can watch ALL the girly movies you want to without any excuses. You don't have to worry about what anyone else wants to watch. Unless of course your girlfriends are over, but lets face it, they are probably gonna wanna watch what you want to watch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Back to the bed thing. You can eat ice cream in bed. And not have to share it with anyone. You can have it all to yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~If you want to go get a manicure, you can. If you want to spend a ridiculous amount of money of some sexy jeans or a hot dress, you can. Cause you don't have to share that bank account with anyone but yourself. Well if your a momma like me, as long as the kids are taken care of too...but you know what I mean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~You can flirt flirt flirt without guilt. That's all I'm gonna say about this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~If you want to stay up all night reading, you can without bugging anyone else with the light being on. You have no one to complain that they can't sleep and blah blah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~When you have complete free time (like I said of course y'all know I'm a momma so I'm talking about when the kids are with baby daddy...) you can do whatever the heck you wanna do! Usually I clean cause its the one time I can clean and keep it that way. But I can run out and meet some girlfriends, watch a movie, take a nap. I have no one else's schedule but mine to be concerned about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Without a man around, or a bank account to pay for someone else to do it, you learn how to do the things that you wouldn't do because the man does it for you. Like change your brakes, kill spiders in the bathroom, or take the garbage out yourself. Its kinda an awesome feeling to know that I don't need somewhere there to do that for me. Cause I can do it on my own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So I hope no one takes this the wrong way. I can totally appreciate a relationship. But right now, I am totally rocking this selfish phase. I will never be able to be as selfish as someone without kids (nor would I want it any other way) but I have been able to learn to appreciate myself more and do things for myself. And its an AWESOME feeling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&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/3496849550734450425-201920405857012942?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/201920405857012942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=201920405857012942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/201920405857012942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/201920405857012942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/table-for-one.html' title='Table for one'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TILyUm8VeAI/AAAAAAAAAR0/vLJWM2B_sG4/s72-c/tableone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6004579195230250041</id><published>2010-09-02T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T06:02:27.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm just looking for a textual relationship</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TH-bb5PJ5oI/AAAAAAAAARk/Nob9m7XEh74/s1600/evo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TH-bb5PJ5oI/AAAAAAAAARk/Nob9m7XEh74/s320/evo.jpg" width="209" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We've all done it a time or two. Or a thousand times...You know what I'm talking about. You're chatting with a friend via text message about what they should get on their sandwich at Subway and the next thing you know you're asking them where they would like their meat stored and if they would like an extra squirt of mayo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Sexting. You know you've&amp;nbsp;all done it. With a friend, girl/boy friend, lover. Whomever. Hey don't judge. We are all guilty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So is sexting the new foreplay? I read this article titled &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/sexting-is-the-new-foreplay-2375920/"&gt;Sexting Is the New Foreplay&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and it got me thinking. How many of us out there are using sexting as a form of foreplay? I mean its incredibly hot. There is a level of secrecy. And its a great way to let your partner know just what you want to do to them later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But how many of us are using sexting as a solution? As a means to itch a scratch? I mean it is a lot safer than going out and having a one night stand and its practically free (I mean besides your cell phone bill and who doesn't have unlimited texting nowadays?). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Well all I can say is, thank goodness for technology. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6004579195230250041?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6004579195230250041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6004579195230250041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6004579195230250041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6004579195230250041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-just-looking-for-textual.html' title='I&apos;m just looking for a textual relationship'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TH-bb5PJ5oI/AAAAAAAAARk/Nob9m7XEh74/s72-c/evo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-43875185684773833</id><published>2010-08-31T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T05:50:31.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nervous</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/THz3M4z3cwI/AAAAAAAAARc/kCJ05QWWGu0/s1600/nervous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/THz3M4z3cwI/AAAAAAAAARc/kCJ05QWWGu0/s320/nervous.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;For the first time in a LONG time, I am actually really nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gone through a lot of changes in my life the past few months. Trying to and finally finding a job, going after a job I really really wanted and getting it, going through a divorce, getting back into the dating world...lots of big changes. But never once was I as nervous as I am now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have achieved my goals and gotten to where I wanted to be, what next? I'm not really sure where my life is going now. And for the first time in a LONG time, I don't really have a plan for where I'm going. Nothing solid, no set goals. So I find myself really nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean its not like I don't have ANY goals, of course my main goal is always to take care of my kids. Which is what I am doing with my new job now. But I am feeling like for the first time I am really able to focus on myself. Focus on doing the best that I can do at work, focus on my friendships and relationships, and just focus on myself and doing the things that I love to do and have always wanted to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess that is my new goal. To make me the best me I can be. Sounds corny huh? Focus on learning how to balance work and my kids life. Focus on spending time and building friendships. Focus on what I really want and expect out of a relationship. Just focus on making my life worthwhile. Sounds like a great adventure to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-43875185684773833?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/43875185684773833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=43875185684773833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/43875185684773833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/43875185684773833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/nervous.html' title='Nervous'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/THz3M4z3cwI/AAAAAAAAARc/kCJ05QWWGu0/s72-c/nervous.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2114812731593683326</id><published>2010-08-30T05:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T10:59:58.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random life, random thoughts</title><content type='html'>Okay so nothing is life is random. I know. The Big Guy up there has a plan for me and I trust him that he will lead me through it. But the events in my life have been very random as of lately. So I thought I would share them with y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently reading&amp;nbsp;&lt;strike&gt;3 different &lt;/strike&gt;4 different books right now. The Lucky One by Nikolas Sparks makes me cry every time I read it. The Secret just because I was curious as to what all the hoopla was about. The Good Girls Guide to Bad Girls Sex and it just makes me...well yeah. And my medical book so I can brush up on everything. I hope that I don't get things confused and start spouting out sex advice when I should be spouting out medical advice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 4 year old sweet baby boy starts preschool next week. And I cried picking out his first day of school outfit over the weekend. I thought I would be SO ready to send him off to school and see him start to grow into the young man I know he'll be someday. But now I find myself not quite ready to give up the baby side of him. He's really starting to not need my so much anymore and it sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 2 year old love bug is pretty much potty trained finally. And a really sick part of me I guess finds it entertaining when he has to go number 2. He tells me to leave him alone, but I peek in on him anyways. He's a tiny little thing and sitting on the big toilet, he looks even smaller. Unlike my 4 year old who likes to get in and get out, Luke would rather sit on the pot and sing and talk and what not. Soon all he'll need is a magazine and some air freshener.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH I forgot to share with y'all. Next week, I will become a University of Cincinnati employee!!! I interviewed and was offered a position with the Department of Oral Surgery. Yes I will be getting paid to do oral (and its all legal too!). lol. Better pay, actual benefits, free college for me AND the boys. I am so excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 10 year high school reunion is coming up and I don't know if I'm quite ready for it. I have conflicting feelings about it. lol. I think it'll be fun to see people I haven't seen in a LONG time, but I don't know if I am really ready to admit that&amp;nbsp;I have been out of high school for 10 years already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog might be pregnant. Long story short, no I never got around to getting her spayed. But she hasn't been in heat for 2 years cause she's kinda an old lady now. Well the male dog that's been hanging around here lately changed all of that. I've been doing a good job of keeping the separated and watching them, but one glance away and yeah...So do they have home pregnancy tests for dogs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least, I am so thankful for the friends and family I have. Without them, I may not survive my day to day life. They keep me sane, they keep me grounded. And I am so glad I have them around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2114812731593683326?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2114812731593683326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2114812731593683326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2114812731593683326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2114812731593683326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/random-life-random-thoughts.html' title='Random life, random thoughts'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5399077306848220756</id><published>2010-08-19T05:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T05:45:47.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll take a cheeseburger and a side order of a respectable spouse...</title><content type='html'>So I was reading an article titled &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/how-to-shop-for-the-right-spouse-2337660/"&gt;How to Shop for the Right Spouse&lt;/a&gt;. I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was a store that sold such merchandise! Is that like right next to Pottery Barn in the mall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously its these kinda articles that put the pressure on us these days. You can't shop for the right spouse, you can't buy "The perfect mate". If it were truly THAT easy, we would all be in wedded bliss. Me of course, I would be going by Courtney Timberlake by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to good 'ol fashioned courting? Where did the days of&amp;nbsp;dating someone and getting to know them go? Now we're expected to know right off the bat if we want to devote the rest of our lives to some stranger we may meet at the grocery store or the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And furthermore, when has it ever happened in the history of time that two people got together and were so perfect for another that nothing had to change? He didn't have to drop his disgusting habit of leaving his socks everywhere and she didn't have t learn to cut back on the nagging and let him be. We aren't all perfect. And to make a relationship actually work, there is always a little give and take&amp;nbsp;from both sides. Its next to impossible to meet somebody and not find one single&amp;nbsp;flaw in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats up with all this pressure we put on ourselves, especially when it comes to marriage?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5399077306848220756?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5399077306848220756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5399077306848220756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5399077306848220756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5399077306848220756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/ill-take-cheeseburger-and-side-order-of.html' title='I&apos;ll take a cheeseburger and a side order of a respectable spouse...'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-838468792161892333</id><published>2010-08-18T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T05:20:53.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite things</title><content type='html'>Okay I'm not Oprah, nor is my bank account anywhere NEAR to where hers is. OH and unfortunately you will NOT receive any gifts by me sharing this list with you. But here is a list of a few of my favorite things at the moment. Some I have, some I just pine for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGs92667A0I/AAAAAAAAAQ8/LwTfUp4IZ6I/s1600/kindle.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGs92667A0I/AAAAAAAAAQ8/LwTfUp4IZ6I/s1600/kindle.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The Kindle. Because I love to read, and I care about the environment. So I save trees, and have any book that I would like to read literally at my fingertips. Super cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGs-j014iqI/AAAAAAAAARA/a383YSpvO4Q/s1600/evo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGs-j014iqI/AAAAAAAAARA/a383YSpvO4Q/s200/evo.jpg" width="130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The HTC Evo. This phone is the closest to a&amp;nbsp;iPhone that I can currently get (I'm so stuck&amp;nbsp;with Sprint, its ridiculous!). But the coolest feature for me...it has a kick stand&amp;nbsp;so you can set it up to watch TV or movies. Yes I am THAT lazy that I can't hold my&amp;nbsp;little phone to watch something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtAU8bJVLI/AAAAAAAAARE/jwEZUzDmW5w/s1600/ipad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtAU8bJVLI/AAAAAAAAARE/jwEZUzDmW5w/s200/ipad.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;The Apple iPad. Frankly cause the doctor I work for has one and it looks so cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtB4uQM1rI/AAAAAAAAARI/ZLheKZUvKRc/s1600/cloubitans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="197" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtB4uQM1rI/AAAAAAAAARI/ZLheKZUvKRc/s200/cloubitans.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christian Louboutins. Because they are sexy as hell, and what kinda person can't appreciate a sexy woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtCsbBV2WI/AAAAAAAAARM/nRgffXw0obE/s1600/bterriers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="149" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtCsbBV2WI/AAAAAAAAARM/nRgffXw0obE/s200/bterriers.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A Boston Terrier. Really cause just look at the face. Too cute!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtDH93H0II/AAAAAAAAARQ/VsqzXEJEynY/s1600/washerdryer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="156" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGtDH93H0II/AAAAAAAAARQ/VsqzXEJEynY/s200/washerdryer.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A LG washer and dryer. Because seriously,&amp;nbsp;I would do my laundry more often and with a smile on my face if I had these. Heck I would do the neighbors laundry too, for a small fee of course! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, these are just a few of my favorite things at the moment. Wishful thinking huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-838468792161892333?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/838468792161892333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=838468792161892333' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/838468792161892333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/838468792161892333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-favorite-things.html' title='My favorite things'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGs92667A0I/AAAAAAAAAQ8/LwTfUp4IZ6I/s72-c/kindle.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4809422492559374296</id><published>2010-08-17T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T05:51:16.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Very random thoughts</title><content type='html'>After seeing an old photo posted of me on FB the other day, I am very thankful that I discovered black mascara. Now I am wondering how some people ever leave the house without it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I am accustomed to change in my life, the thought of having to replace my Blackberry the other day freaked my freak. Thank the heavens above that the dude at the store was able to fix that stupid little track ball, and did it all for free. And I only had to flash him &lt;strike&gt;my boob&lt;/strike&gt; a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that at the END of the summer, you know when its time to tuck the two piece away, that I finally get to a place where I am content with the way my body looks? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This growing up stuff is hard yo. Mapping out a budget, going to bed at a decent time...I just don't wanna do it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am SO thankful I get to wear scrubs to work. They are SO super comfy, I almost feel like I'm wearing jammies to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want shoes. Lots and lots 'o shoes. And purses. I want a huge closet full of shoes and bags. That is my dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am itching to take a vacation. An adventure. Go somewhere I haven't gone. Do somethings I haven't done. If only my bank account would allow me to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to get my new glasses so I can stop being the old lady doing 40 mph on 275 at night because she can't see. Yeah not really safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4809422492559374296?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4809422492559374296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4809422492559374296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4809422492559374296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4809422492559374296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/very-random-thoughts.html' title='Very random thoughts'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7052390626043053840</id><published>2010-08-16T05:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T05:45:53.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance like no ones watching</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGkwaorvEcI/AAAAAAAAAQs/NvJOU5u7Ktw/s1600/lukemovies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGkwaorvEcI/AAAAAAAAAQs/NvJOU5u7Ktw/s320/lukemovies.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGkwmJ7OXzI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/oOcptuzRiUE/s1600/edsmovie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGkwmJ7OXzI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/oOcptuzRiUE/s320/edsmovie.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I had the best date night Saturday with these two guys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Its funny how, for someone who is always self reflecting, I can learn life's lessons from a 4 year old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We went and saw Despicable Me Saturday night. Cute movie, it was funny and those little minions were adorable! The boys laughed, I got a little teary eyed. It was a good&amp;nbsp;time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But it was at the end of the movie when the credits were rolling and the music was playing that my sweet little 4 year old boy reminded me on of the best life lessons. Eddie is usually a shy boy, of course unless he knows you. Then he's willing to do whatever act you ask him to perform. But in the company of strangers, he gets too embarrassed. Well not Saturday. My boy was loving the music so&amp;nbsp;much, that he got out in the aisle and started shaking his booty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Me embarrassed you ask? Of course not. Because my boy was out there dancing like no one was watching. Even though EVERYONE was watching, thinking he was the cutest thing ever. Yep that's my boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&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/3496849550734450425-7052390626043053840?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7052390626043053840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7052390626043053840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7052390626043053840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7052390626043053840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/dance-like-no-ones-watching.html' title='Dance like no ones watching'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGkwaorvEcI/AAAAAAAAAQs/NvJOU5u7Ktw/s72-c/lukemovies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8761314123641422054</id><published>2010-08-13T05:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T05:35:31.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working momma</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGU58YGXAXI/AAAAAAAAAQk/h4mjhycbtz0/s1600/workingmom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGU58YGXAXI/AAAAAAAAAQk/h4mjhycbtz0/s320/workingmom.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I've been on maternity leave. For four years. Time to get back to work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I returned back to work last week after taking a 4 year break to you know kick back, relax, OH and raise my children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;To be honest, it hasn't been as bad as I anticipated. Don't get me wrong, the leaving the kids part was HARD, but I have kinda enjoyed getting out of the house and being around adults. Its been great to see the boys reactions when I get home from the office. They are so excited to see me and they give me the biggest hugs. Its great. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The hardest adjustment is getting back into the work place and dealing with the "office drama" all over again. Really I thought I left this stuff behind when I graduated high school. I guess I am sadly mistaken.&amp;nbsp;So because I choose not to be a part of it all, my days seem to be running pretty long. But as long as I have a job and am working towards a paycheck, I am not going to complain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back off to work I go today. It feels funny to actually be excited over a Friday again. Looking forward to spending some time with my boys this weekend. I miss them SO much!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8761314123641422054?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8761314123641422054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8761314123641422054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8761314123641422054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8761314123641422054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/working-momma.html' title='Working momma'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGU58YGXAXI/AAAAAAAAAQk/h4mjhycbtz0/s72-c/workingmom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4206414536298376164</id><published>2010-08-09T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T20:06:42.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it really what it is?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGCfkQB8G6I/AAAAAAAAAQc/zzLLMcP95Yw/s1600/itis.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGCfkQB8G6I/AAAAAAAAAQc/zzLLMcP95Yw/s320/itis.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell is up with this saying? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I realize there are SOME situations that we can't control, like natural disasters or taxes. But whats up with people getting into situations in their lives and throwing their hands up and saying "Well, it is what it is!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, but FUCK no. Really I need to use the strong language. It is what it is, sounds so much like giving up to me. Like your giving in. Oh well you know...it is what it is. No life's situations are what me make them. It is what you make it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes you get put into bad situations. Yes there are awful things that happen to ALL of us. But it truly is what YOU make of it. One bad situation can turn into several great ones. Its all in the way you handle it. Its all in what you learn from it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm sorry if this is the motto that you live by. But here's a better one...It is what you make it. So make the best out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4206414536298376164?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4206414536298376164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4206414536298376164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4206414536298376164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4206414536298376164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/is-it-really-what-it-is.html' title='Is it really what it is?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TGCfkQB8G6I/AAAAAAAAAQc/zzLLMcP95Yw/s72-c/itis.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6303075933997517201</id><published>2010-08-03T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T05:28:42.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Okay so seriously my birthday is coming soon. Friday. August 6th, to be exact. I don't wanna boast, but its kinda a big deal. Really, the day that I was born, it should be a national freaking holiday. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I know that there probably a few of you that have waited till the last minute to get me a gift. And yes I know that I already&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/birthday-wishes.html"&gt;made a list&lt;/a&gt;...but seriously if anyone actually grants any of those wishes, they deserve the freakin noble peace prize! OK so since it makes me completely uncomfortable to tell people what to give me for my b-day, here is a list of some of the things I am wanting as of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFgGF1E2z0I/AAAAAAAAAQM/dbXf5E0SZds/s1600/book.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFgGF1E2z0I/AAAAAAAAAQM/dbXf5E0SZds/s320/book.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~The book The Lucky One from Nicholas Sparks. Because I feel the need to read a book and cry my brains out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFgG_BBKDuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/OQ0oyWbRJJc/s1600/kindle.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFgG_BBKDuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/OQ0oyWbRJJc/s320/kindle.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~A Kindle. You&amp;nbsp;know to read my books on. lol. Okay this one is&amp;nbsp;a little pricier of a gift. But hey you asked! lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Giada de Laurentiis cook books. Because I love to cook. And&amp;nbsp;now that I'm dating an Italian hottie, I feel the need to cook even more. Plus, I have a little girl crush on her. Now I've said too much...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~A really cute, girly, fun apron. You know with all the cooking I'll be doing, I need an apron. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~A shopping spree. I need new clothes. Or an eating spree, so I can fit back into all my old clothes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Burts Bees chap stick. Cause really,&amp;nbsp;I could never have enough of that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;~Gift certificates to Ikea, TJ Maxx, or any other home decor kinda place. I have a new apartment to furnish here soon and have LOTS of ideas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Really, I'm just a simple girl. I appreciate just a card, phone call, just to be a thought on your brain. I can't wait to celebrate my birthday this year. I can't wait to spend the evening with people that I love, and just laugh and have fun and let loose. Its gonna be a great birthday this year!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6303075933997517201?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6303075933997517201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6303075933997517201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6303075933997517201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6303075933997517201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-birthday.html' title='My Birthday!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFgGF1E2z0I/AAAAAAAAAQM/dbXf5E0SZds/s72-c/book.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4768987958542380512</id><published>2010-08-02T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T05:17:31.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I love Jason</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFRlLjK0RXI/AAAAAAAAAQE/kI6VJeFBDRk/s1600/jasonhoppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFRlLjK0RXI/AAAAAAAAAQE/kI6VJeFBDRk/s320/jasonhoppy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Ah, Jason Hoppy. We all know him as Bethenny Frankels main man and baby daddy of her sweet little baby Bryn. But he is so much more to us. I have developed a innocent little crush on this guy. So here's my reasons why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He is so secure in his manhood, that he cries on camera.&lt;/strong&gt; If you were able to watch that man cry at his wedding, and over his brand new baby girl, and not lose it yourself you need to get checked out. Rarely do we ever see a man that is willing to let his emotions get the best of him, let alone when a camera is following his every move and broadcasting that to millions worldwide. That takes balls dude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He embraced fatherhood with a smile. &lt;/strong&gt;Did you see the episode when Bethenny went into labor? She went into full planning mode, and all he wanted to do was call his family and friends to let them know he was going to be a daddy soon. "I don't know what to wear to meet my son or daughter!" he said while trying to get dressed for the hospital. Everyone say it with me...AWWWW!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He's confident, not cocky. &lt;/strong&gt;Did y'all see him walking the beach with his washboard abs? But he wasn't walking around acting like the greatest thing in the world. He was just enjoying the beach, happy to be there with his new, pregnant wife. Confidence is sexy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He handles Bethenny's craziness, all with a smile and a joke. &lt;/strong&gt;Bethenny is just like the rest of us girls. She's cool, she's confident, but at sometimes...yes she loses her shit. And Jason is always there to pull her together and make her laugh. Tell me you caught that moment at the beach in St. Barts when Bethenny started freaking out and crying because the baby was coming soon. And what did Jason say to her "Baby, we will get through this together, you don't have to do it all alone anymore." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He fakes it till he makes it. &lt;/strong&gt;Bethenny is in the lime light. Its how she's gotten to where she is now. Reality show star, NY Times best seller, celebrity chef. Girl is out there working it. And he's not really comfortable in the spotlight. But he does it, and why? All for her. To be there and support her. Not matter how uncomfortable it makes him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;and most of all...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He has a cute smile.&lt;/strong&gt; And I only notice this, because a smile is usually plastered on his face everytime you see him. He's got a great wife, a beautful baby girl, and life is good. And he knows it, hence the constant smile. Thats the BEST trait in anyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4768987958542380512?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4768987958542380512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4768987958542380512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4768987958542380512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4768987958542380512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/08/why-i-love-jason.html' title='Why I love Jason'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFRlLjK0RXI/AAAAAAAAAQE/kI6VJeFBDRk/s72-c/jasonhoppy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4542365696556200660</id><published>2010-07-30T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T05:30:06.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to contributing to society</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;I GOT A JOB!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;No freakin joke. I got the call today. The doctor himself called. YAY!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I wasn't feeling good about this interview. It lasted a whole 5 minutes. He told me what my responsibilities would be, asked if I could handle it, and then told me he had more interviews. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I left feeling baffled. I didn't ask about benefits, he didn't want to know my strengths and weaknesses. I didn't get to talk myself up. Maybe that's what saved me. Haha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So anyways, he called me today and offered me the job. YAY! I can't stop saying YAY! I start Monday. I am so excited. I feel guilty already about having to leave my babies, but I also feel good in knowing that I am starting back to work and it will only get better from here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So no longer am I a slacking, unemployed, over user of Facebook. I will be back to contributing to society and having money. YAY!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4542365696556200660?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4542365696556200660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4542365696556200660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4542365696556200660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4542365696556200660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/back-to-contributing-to-society.html' title='Back to contributing to society'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4541236283853593666</id><published>2010-07-29T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T09:53:19.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love my booty!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFGvRDgO3lI/AAAAAAAAAP8/_fFVXeP1aIU/s1600/booty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFGvRDgO3lI/AAAAAAAAAP8/_fFVXeP1aIU/s320/booty.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yeah, that's totally a pic of my booty. Not really. Remember I lie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was reading articles like I usually do out of boredom and I came across this article, &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/4-body-parts-that-make-us-self-conscious-and-how-to-love-them-2153485/"&gt;4 Body Part That Make Us Self Conscious&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and it got me thinking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are parts on my body that I love, and there are parts that I hate. Its true, its true. I love my booty. I was blessed with a nice budunkadunk. Granted now in my later 20's I now have to do actual exercises to keep it looking good. I have great upper arms. I have always have defined arms but now thanks to weights and lifting my children they are even more defined. Overall my body is OK. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why can't we be happy with what we have? We all know we can't have it all (except for those freak Victoria Secret models, I happen to believe that aren't really human), but in our endless need for perfection we still try.&amp;nbsp;Diets, endless hours at the gym, even clothes that promise to flatten tummy's and lift butts. Its crazy what lengths we go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am stepping up on my soap box today to highlight the nice things. Yeah my legs may not be 5 feet long, my stomach may be lacking an entire 6 pack, and my breast are&amp;nbsp;no longer as perky as they were in my high school days. But I have more to offer than my body, like a sense of humor and a kind heart. And that, to me at least, is pretty freakin awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4541236283853593666?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4541236283853593666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4541236283853593666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4541236283853593666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4541236283853593666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/love-my-booty.html' title='Love my booty!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFGvRDgO3lI/AAAAAAAAAP8/_fFVXeP1aIU/s72-c/booty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6816819019188569786</id><published>2010-07-28T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T14:34:45.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Screwed perception</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFCb3DR8wyI/AAAAAAAAAPs/gVucsnrxWHs/s1600/couplefighting.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" bx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFCb3DR8wyI/AAAAAAAAAPs/gVucsnrxWHs/s320/couplefighting.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Get mad. Get glad. Get even?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure we've all heard this saying before. But just how well does it apply?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. I'm not a fighter. I hate confrontation. I avoid it at all costs.&amp;nbsp;But sometimes its inevitable. You can't avoid it and for your own sanity's sake words need to be said. But is there a right way to fight? You know, doing the "adult" thing and talking it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't fight dirty. Yes granted I may lose my temper from time to time and&amp;nbsp;a door may&amp;nbsp;get slammed or a small item like a child's toy may be tossed. But I always try to&amp;nbsp;keep my emotions in check, and watch my mouth, because words hurt. You can never unhear something that's been said.&amp;nbsp;Yes you can always apologize until your blue in the face, until the cows come home, or until pigs are flying out of your butt (and really I would like to see that happen, it may make me forget what got me mad in the first place!). But, at least for a girl, you will never be able to forget what was said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to us being adults? Whats with&amp;nbsp;the name calling and ridiculous accusations being made?&amp;nbsp;Do we now live in a world where being angry with each other and never reaching an actual solution is whats considered the norm? Is it really now ok to call each other names and say things just to hurt each other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me silly, but I was under the impression that you had confrontations to find an actual solution. You know we don't see eye to eye so lets see what we need to change to solve that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its time to take off the gloves. And lets make love not war. Yes, I am that cheesy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6816819019188569786?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6816819019188569786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6816819019188569786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6816819019188569786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6816819019188569786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/screwed-perception.html' title='Screwed perception'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TFCb3DR8wyI/AAAAAAAAAPs/gVucsnrxWHs/s72-c/couplefighting.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8095134403650849175</id><published>2010-07-26T04:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T04:54:41.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liar</title><content type='html'>Did you know that I am actually from Texas. Yeah, I also graduated for the University of Texas (hook 'em horns), and while attending school there, I was a cheerleader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay non of that is true. I lived in Texas for 6 years and am an avid fan of UT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See this all started when I was at the gym...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on the treadmill. I was working it, running, sweating my balls off (no really, their gone!). This guy running next me to me decided to ignore the ear buds in my ear and start up a conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Are you from Texas?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yes." Lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Really that's cool, I'm from Tyler, you know near Dallas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "That's cool, I lived in Austin." Haha...see truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Did you go to school at UT?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yes." Lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: "And did you cheer there too?" (I'm assuming he only asked this because of my UT Cheerleading shirt I had on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yes." Lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily the conversation stopped there before he asked me what I majored in and I blurted out "Physics"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody wants to hear that I am just a mom, my cheerleading days in Austin sounded a lot more interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need help. 12 program for liars, here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8095134403650849175?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8095134403650849175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8095134403650849175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8095134403650849175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8095134403650849175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/liar.html' title='Liar'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8331788519653549258</id><published>2010-07-23T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T06:47:54.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A blank mind</title><content type='html'>My mind is blank today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really I can't think today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down to write today to try and motivate myself to get up and do something. And I can't think of ANYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to write about sex. Something about if sex is still satisfying even if you don't "get there". But then I felt too dirty with what direction it was taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then started to write about how I was a simple girl. But lets be honest, I am a complicated mess.&amp;nbsp;I over analyze, under trust, and at times I am TOO honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So nothing. I am nothing. To be completely honest, I am in SUCH a bad mood. I am faced with another long boring weekend of nothing much to do and its making me cranky. Just having one of THOSE days. So I am going to disappear for the weekend, Shut myself in and sulk. Maybe Monday will be much better for me...Here's hoping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8331788519653549258?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8331788519653549258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8331788519653549258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8331788519653549258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8331788519653549258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/blank-mind.html' title='A blank mind'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7101439550746409479</id><published>2010-07-20T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T07:37:01.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday wishes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TEW0g6bM5yI/AAAAAAAAAPk/-MxRBexqQNs/s1600/birthday+cake.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TEW0g6bM5yI/AAAAAAAAAPk/-MxRBexqQNs/s320/birthday+cake.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So of course you all know that yesterday was my big guys birthday. He had a blast, he got his Nintendo DS that he's been asking for forever, and he got to run wild at Chuck E Cheeses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course as it always does, his birthday has brought up the inevitable question. What does he want for his birthday?&amp;nbsp; He's 4, he wants toys and things that make loud noises that will drive his mother up the wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that his birthday has come and gone...means that my big day is just around the corner. And now I am faced with the question...what do you want for your birthday little girl? (Okay well maybe not the little girl part because to be honest that sounds&amp;nbsp;a little creepy, but seriously don't you always kinda hear the little girl part in your head when someone asks you this questions?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...really you want me to tell you what I want for my birthday???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~World peace. Okay totally not achievable but wouldn't it be nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A job. Really yet again something totally up to me and my future employer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A solution to the water crisis in&amp;nbsp;Africa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~For my 2 year old to stop saying he hates everything. OH and for him to stop pooping in his pants too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~For my 4 year old (yes my 4 year old now!) to stop growing, What a magical age he's at right now, I would love to keep him here forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A real diamond tiara. Cause really what girl DOESN'T need one of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~For an end to the oil spill in the gulf. Really like a permanent end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~For homelessness to be abolished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A new cell phone. Berry has been acting up too much that I can't put my faith in him anymore. And really I am ready to move on to bigger and better things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A pony. Because a little part of all of our girlhoods never die. And for once I would like to see this wish fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Nursing school paid for by someone else other than me. Loans are great, but they DO have to be paid back eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A good steak and a nice glass of red wine. A Shiraz. Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A better economy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you asked so I answered. I don't ask for much...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really for birthday celebrations, I just want good company, perhaps a fun place to dance, and maybe even a laugh or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7101439550746409479?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7101439550746409479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7101439550746409479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7101439550746409479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7101439550746409479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/birthday-wishes.html' title='Birthday wishes'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TEW0g6bM5yI/AAAAAAAAAPk/-MxRBexqQNs/s72-c/birthday+cake.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5491203235101732173</id><published>2010-07-19T04:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T04:46:42.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1460 days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECoz1zjVBI/AAAAAAAAAO8/eY7-l6dSaOE/s1600/edandmolly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECoz1zjVBI/AAAAAAAAAO8/eY7-l6dSaOE/s320/edandmolly.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Today you turn 4 years old. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You have changed so much already just from the first day I saw you till now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Now you say your ABC's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Now you can count . To 20 sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Now you are eager to help me when you can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You are really into electronics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You love to play Wii.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TD9txXG7VaI/AAAAAAAAAOk/8b4jZhQHEmw/s1600/790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TD9txXG7VaI/AAAAAAAAAOk/8b4jZhQHEmw/s320/790.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You are the goofiest little dude I know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You love to make people laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And you love to dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECzbEj0iaI/AAAAAAAAAPc/zMjfSFTSMns/s1600/563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECzbEj0iaI/AAAAAAAAAPc/zMjfSFTSMns/s320/563.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You are an amazing little man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You are so curious and you ask questions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;You love to sing songs and listen to music with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I am so happy that I was chosen to be your mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECuW2p3uXI/AAAAAAAAAPU/jnwShRuMZyg/s1600/570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECuW2p3uXI/AAAAAAAAAPU/jnwShRuMZyg/s320/570.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I love you SO much!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5491203235101732173?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5491203235101732173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5491203235101732173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5491203235101732173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5491203235101732173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/1460-days.html' title='1460 days'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TECoz1zjVBI/AAAAAAAAAO8/eY7-l6dSaOE/s72-c/edandmolly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5976572481977640156</id><published>2010-07-15T06:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T06:38:41.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can a girl get a break?</title><content type='html'>I am so run down right now, I think I may either have strep throat or I have forgotten how to swallow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously my tonsils are so swollen you would think I had ping pong balls in the back of my throat if you happened to look. Perhaps I should go to a doctor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave it to my sweet, beautiful, loving children to run a MUCK today. Really bouncing off the walls. I swear they got into my red bull collection in the fridge while I was trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep on the couch. Already in the hour and a half that we've all been up, I have cleaned up dog puke, cleaned out red jello out of the carpet, broken up 5 fights, and punished Eds for slapping his brother. I am EXHAUSTED. I am tired and sore, and it hurts to even open my mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really can a girl get a break?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5976572481977640156?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5976572481977640156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5976572481977640156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5976572481977640156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5976572481977640156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/can-girl-get-break.html' title='Can a girl get a break?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3950897579689128054</id><published>2010-07-14T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T05:30:36.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shut the front door</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TD2t5Cr6A_I/AAAAAAAAAOM/mLwAKChBbSM/s1600/ssshh.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TD2t5Cr6A_I/AAAAAAAAAOM/mLwAKChBbSM/s320/ssshh.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am a firm believer on saying what you need to say. I always feel that its better to share you mind than it is to let feelings fester to the point of not really knowing what you feel anymore. But in those times when your speaking your two cents, talking and sharing your feelings, do you sometimes say too much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there times when we really should shut the f up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've all been there before. You've said your mind. But you just keep going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What I meant to say was..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shovel. Dig. Toss the dirt to the side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you took what I said the wrong way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man this hole is getting deep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What I'm just saying is..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me from down here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very guilty of just continuing to ramble long after the point that I wanted to make was made. That's when things start getting confusing. So in my always going mind of self reflection, I am vowing to just say what I feel I need to say, and then shutting the f up. In a clear effort to only say what I need to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3950897579689128054?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3950897579689128054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3950897579689128054' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3950897579689128054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3950897579689128054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/shut-front-door.html' title='Shut the front door'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TD2t5Cr6A_I/AAAAAAAAAOM/mLwAKChBbSM/s72-c/ssshh.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1469084071443844368</id><published>2010-07-13T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T06:39:30.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Him</title><content type='html'>He makes me insanely&amp;nbsp;happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always has something goofy to tell me like a joke or something funny that happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He assures me that I am always on his mind, and I fully believe him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He makes me feel like the prettiest, smartest, funniest girl on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He talks to me and always tells me whats on his mind. There's no second guessing with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has the most adorable face, even when he's pouting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves his son, his family, and his friends. And he allows me to be a part of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sees a future with me and that doesn't scare him off. He actually embraces that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can always have a good time together no matter what we are doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay throwing up in your mouth a little bit?&amp;nbsp;I'm incredibly lucky that I found someone like him. I'm so happy to see where this could lead me in the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1469084071443844368?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1469084071443844368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1469084071443844368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1469084071443844368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1469084071443844368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/him.html' title='Him'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-395980526185703933</id><published>2010-07-12T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T08:09:56.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust and sacrifice</title><content type='html'>When you truly love someone, you trust them with all your heart. And you also learn to sacrifice for them. You know you either learn how to go without, or push yourself out of your comfort zone for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how much is too much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in a relationship with someone&amp;nbsp;is one of the most challenging thing we do as human beings. It ranks right up there with childbirth, receiving your education, and um world peace. We like to always try and convince ourselves that when you are with someone you are a team, and then we like to try and follow that up with saying "its all 50/50". But it never really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, especially in these tough times, we can't always be 50/50. There are gonna be times in a relationship when one person is going to have to bear more of the load. Sometimes its through an illness, sometimes its financial issues, and sometimes its something as simple as cleaning duties at home. This is where the sacrifice part comes in. Nobody likes to be 100 percent responsible all the time, and the task can becoming daunting no matter HOW much you love the person. But here's where the trust part comes in...You have to trust that this too shall pass, and that things will pick up and become better. And that sometime in the future, your gonna be the one down and out, and your partner will be there to hold you together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its is all about giving and taking and in some situations, there is gonna be one person taking a whole lot while the other is forced to give all they've got. But as long as it comes from a place of love on both sides, its SO worth it in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-395980526185703933?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/395980526185703933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=395980526185703933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/395980526185703933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/395980526185703933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/trust-and-sacrifice.html' title='Trust and sacrifice'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5983496875596825913</id><published>2010-07-09T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T06:15:48.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old dog new tricks?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDceqZw9qdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/6ljHTH-o4U8/s1600/old+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDceqZw9qdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/6ljHTH-o4U8/s320/old+dog.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Can you really teach an old dog new tricks? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its no secret, the older we get the more set in our ways we become. Many attribute it to becoming old and cranky, but I believe that you just become more comfortable in you your skin and less afraid to be yourself. You've been through the trial and error portion of your life and you know what makes you happy and what sets you off. But do you become too set in your ways that your unable to be open to something new?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You live your life day to day and you get into a rhythm. You work, you play. You know how you like to spend your free time and you like your freedom. So what do you do when a wrench gets thrown into the mix? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is not always bad. Things may be good now, but there's always the possibility that it could get better. So listen &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;dawg&lt;/span&gt;, practice some patience and learn some new tricks. Yes it may change your life, but it could be for the better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5983496875596825913?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5983496875596825913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5983496875596825913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5983496875596825913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5983496875596825913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/old-dog-new-tricks.html' title='Old dog new tricks?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDceqZw9qdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/6ljHTH-o4U8/s72-c/old+dog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3030134588166742124</id><published>2010-07-08T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T09:28:41.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoying little me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDX8foLYtmI/AAAAAAAAAN8/T2llbMOEX6g/s1600/nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDX8foLYtmI/AAAAAAAAAN8/T2llbMOEX6g/s320/nails.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Bad habits. We all have them. I know I do. So in the spirit of self reflection (and because I have NOTHING to write about today), I thought I would share a few of mine. This should be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I bite my nails. Yeah to the point where I have to keep them short so I don't chew them. I have chewed them down to the point of pain before. Its gross and awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I'm messy and disorganized. I know everything has its place, but I still haven't figured out where most every things places are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I can never seem to finish an entire drink and take my cup to the sink. Wherever I got bored with drinking my drink, is wherever I left my cup. And that is where it will probably stay until I pick up later on down the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I get bored throughout the day and check &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Faceboook&lt;/span&gt; a lot. Its retarded, but I have a lot of funny friends so they entertain me with silly post of videos or thoughts and sayings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I procrastinate. A lot. Hey I work best under pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I can be kinda lazy. My favorite thing to do is lay on the couch and just watch TV, or surf the i&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;nternet&lt;/span&gt;, or wrestle with the boys. As long as its on the couch, I'm good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I'm almost too relaxed sometimes. This makes it next to impossible for me to make simple decisions like what to eat or where to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I am great a actually cleaning the laundry. I love to&amp;nbsp;put the clothes in, getting stains out, loading the dryer and the smell of my dryer sheets. But I almost always forget to take the damn clothes out of the dryer until like days later when I can't find any clean underwear. Thank goodness for ironing boards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3030134588166742124?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3030134588166742124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3030134588166742124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3030134588166742124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3030134588166742124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/annoying-little-me.html' title='Annoying little me'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TDX8foLYtmI/AAAAAAAAAN8/T2llbMOEX6g/s72-c/nails.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-763448609749995598</id><published>2010-07-07T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T11:13:36.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More than words</title><content type='html'>I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three simple words that drive some people mad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people need to hear it, most people like for the person feeling the love to prove it. Simple things. Offering help on a busy day. Bringing flowers, ordering take out when you know they don't want to cook. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've all heard the old adage since we were kids, actions speak louder than words. I love you are some pretty big words, but they can mean nothing if you can't prove it. But luckily for majority of us, it doesn't require big actions. Its easy today to get lazy, to get comfortable in the trust of your partners love. So we forget to do the things that the other one appreciates. Getting her her favorite candy. Cooking him his favorite meal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So remember that its just not enough to tell someone that you love them. Prove it. Be a fool for love. It will pay off big in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-763448609749995598?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/763448609749995598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=763448609749995598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/763448609749995598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/763448609749995598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/more-than-words.html' title='More than words'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8658810065015077914</id><published>2010-07-06T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T05:25:32.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!</title><content type='html'>I have fallen off the face of the earth. Well not literally, we all know that can't happen. But no I have not been around lately. Things have been crazy busy around here, although most days I feel like I haven't done a thing. So I thought I could use this post to update you all a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are growing like crazy! My proudest moment thus far happened to me the other day. Eddie is really starting to get a grasp of his numbers. We were meeting my mom, her friend, and her friends 2 kids. 4 people all together, at a store. We found my mom with one of the kids and Eddie got all excited. After giving hugs and kisses, Ed says "We found 2 of them, now we need to find 2 more!". I was SO proud of him!!! My goodness how great his little mind works. Lucas is in his stage where he questions EVERYTHING. And he is a curious little guy. We are having a blast so far this summer with slip and slides, swimming, trips to the zoo, and cook outs. I still have a few things in store before summers over which I can't wait to share with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4th of July festivities where well on their way this past weekend. We decided to split the boys up so Eddie went with his dad and I took Lucas with me to my friends party. She has an annual 4th of July celebration at her father-in-laws beautiful historic home. The day was filled with swimming, hanging out with friends, and fireworks. It was really fun to spend the whole day with Lucas. He is such a little social butterfly and he was not shy at all to walk up to someone and start a conversation. He stayed up late, loved the fireworks, and was out like a light for the rest of the night. We had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things in the new relationship are going great! Nothing really new to report or anything I actually wanna share with anyone at the moment. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt; But I am really enjoying myself and feeling very thankful that I met him. I am a happy girl. That's all anyone needs to know right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's about it I think. I have a phone interview today with Children's Place. I don't mind retail but I am just disappointed that I can't get a job in something that I spent a lot of money and time going to school for. But any job to pay the bills would be nice at this point. This may just be the sign that I should just get into nursing school and go all the way. We shall see. So tomorrow, I promise to return to full form and write about the things you really wanna hear about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8658810065015077914?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8658810065015077914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8658810065015077914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8658810065015077914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8658810065015077914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/help-ive-fallen-and-i-cant-get-up.html' title='Help! I&apos;ve fallen and I can&apos;t get up!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8070372389074977373</id><published>2010-07-02T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T09:41:21.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That movie with the Vampires...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TC4VFxD7O0I/AAAAAAAAAN0/eN6EZW9WmDw/s1600/eclipse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" rw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TC4VFxD7O0I/AAAAAAAAAN0/eN6EZW9WmDw/s200/eclipse.jpg" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So this total cutie called me up yesterday and asked me if I wanted to go see this little movie that not many people have heard about. He said it was something about vampires and a twisted love story...intrigued I went along.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yeah I went and saw Eclipse last night. AMAZING!! Team Edward all the way...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yeah I would so freeze to death in a tent up in the mountains of Washington just to be with him. That crooked smile, I can't resist it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yes, I know that he's a fictional character. Yes I know that someone wrote the words he speaks to Bella. But in my blissful state of happiness at the moment, I can't but think to myself how romantic the whole notion of the love affair between Bella and Edward really is. I mean this girl is willing to literally give her life for him, to be with him FOREVER. Like really forever because they are vampires, the are immortal. Just in case you don't really follow this stuff. And Edward is willing to fight to the ends and even join with his enemy to protect her. Its a very sweet notion that love could run that deeply.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So go see it. Its got action, its got romance, its got Jacob with his shirt off a lot. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. Good movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8070372389074977373?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8070372389074977373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8070372389074977373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8070372389074977373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8070372389074977373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/that-movie-with-vampires.html' title='That movie with the Vampires...'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TC4VFxD7O0I/AAAAAAAAAN0/eN6EZW9WmDw/s72-c/eclipse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-4166679493877531754</id><published>2010-07-01T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T06:47:11.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New BFF's</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCycC98bqoI/AAAAAAAAANs/-1AmxE4Np4M/s1600/bff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCycC98bqoI/AAAAAAAAANs/-1AmxE4Np4M/s320/bff.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love making new friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; I never grew up in one place. Because we were a military family, we were all over the place. So I never really had like childhood friends. I can't say that I still talk to someone that I went to 3rd grade with. Heck I don't even really talk to a bunch of people I went to high school with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your an adult, making friendships is hard to do. You are more set in your ways and less tolerant of things. Not to even mention how just day to day life gets in your way. So you learn to value your friendships more than ever. So its always a blessing when you come into a friendship in your adult life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have just recently developed a close friendship with my girl Andrea. We literally can talk for hours, and we joke around about everything. It is&amp;nbsp;a friendship that I see lasting for a LONG time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO I guess I am just in a happy, philosophical mood this morning. I know friendships are hard to come by these days, so I really do value and appreciate the ones I do have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-4166679493877531754?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/4166679493877531754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=4166679493877531754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4166679493877531754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/4166679493877531754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-bffs.html' title='New BFF&apos;s'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCycC98bqoI/AAAAAAAAANs/-1AmxE4Np4M/s72-c/bff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-183379970176769585</id><published>2010-06-30T05:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T05:53:41.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah I'm good</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCs8J1GcMQI/AAAAAAAAANk/RZOCWkvasE8/s1600/angel1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" ru="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCs8J1GcMQI/AAAAAAAAANk/RZOCWkvasE8/s200/angel1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Alright. I am a goody two shoes. I never break the rules. I stay within 5 miles of the speed limit. I am scared of police officers. I like to follow the rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some would argue that I haven't really lived a life because I haven't done anything "fun". Oh right like getting completley trashed and making stupid decisions, some that last you a life time. Or having a 5 mile long driving record and paying lots of moola in traffic violations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had good times in my life. And I am proud of where I am today. I think its cool that I can say I have never had a speeding ticket. Or that I have never made a decision that I really regreted because I was really drunk. And I am really proud of the fact that I have a huge amount of respect for things today because of what I have learned in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am good with continue to be a good girl. Trust me I find ways to have good, clean, fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-183379970176769585?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/183379970176769585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=183379970176769585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/183379970176769585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/183379970176769585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/yeah-im-good.html' title='Yeah I&apos;m good'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCs8J1GcMQI/AAAAAAAAANk/RZOCWkvasE8/s72-c/angel1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-284658314368671950</id><published>2010-06-24T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T06:21:50.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should being single imply rules?</title><content type='html'>We've all heard them before. The Rules. And the always seem to be most prevalent when one is single. You know the silly rules that either you make up or are already made up for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*You should stay single for as long as the relationship happened&lt;br /&gt;*Only dating a certain age group, body type, hair color, etc.&lt;br /&gt;*It's OK to date but just don't get serious with anybody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get the gist. So my question for today...Whats with all the rules? Why do we stipulate ourselves when it comes to relationships? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've said it before and I'll say it again. Love comes to you when you're ready for it. When you have truly found yourself and are comfortable with what you have to give, that's when the Guy above sends "The One" into your life. So why do we muck it up with all these rules? I think the one rule we should stick to is to know yourself. Because its only when you know and fully love yourself, that others can do the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-284658314368671950?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/284658314368671950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=284658314368671950' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/284658314368671950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/284658314368671950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/should-being-single-imply-rules.html' title='Should being single imply rules?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-236751448082025235</id><published>2010-06-23T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T06:01:35.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pimpin myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCIFo-ohWiI/AAAAAAAAANc/go7aO-XD8uo/s1600/pimp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ru="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCIFo-ohWiI/AAAAAAAAANc/go7aO-XD8uo/s320/pimp.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today should be fun. I have resorted to &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;pimpin&lt;/span&gt; myself out. Don't worry its nothing illegal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am off to visit several different doc offices and urgent cares to see who's hiring and who will hire me. Its what me and some of my friends refer to as &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;pimpin&lt;/span&gt; yourself out. You become your own pimp.&amp;nbsp;You literally walk into an office and plead your case as to why they should want to hire you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UH...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm smart&lt;br /&gt;I'm funny&lt;br /&gt;I'm a hard worker&lt;br /&gt;I love my job&lt;br /&gt;I'm a team player&lt;br /&gt;I am very well organized&lt;br /&gt;I can take constructive criticism and strive to work on my weaknesses&lt;br /&gt;I have a great personality and it takes a lot to get me down&lt;br /&gt;I love to help people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the statements that I am getting SO sick of saying over and over again!&amp;nbsp;Don't get me wrong, they are SO true about me, but I am so sick of talking about myself. I happen to think the proof is right there on my resume. Top of my class, perfect attendance, 5+ years of retail management. I think I know how to deal with people by now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just extremely frustrated right now with job searching. Its almost next to impossible to get a job right now, and its at a time when I need one the most. Lord, I am putting all of my trust in you as I always do, but please get me a job! Really, because I am pretty much becoming a ho for medicine. Wait that doesn't sound right...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I am off. But I promise to only dress professional on my &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;pimpin&lt;/span&gt; expedition. No fur coats and hats with feathers in it for me today. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-236751448082025235?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/236751448082025235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=236751448082025235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/236751448082025235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/236751448082025235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/pimpin-myself.html' title='Pimpin myself'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCIFo-ohWiI/AAAAAAAAANc/go7aO-XD8uo/s72-c/pimp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1216340444277450191</id><published>2010-06-22T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T07:01:16.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies babies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCDAzWG62dI/AAAAAAAAANU/p5lmpgv7ELM/s1600/baby+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ru="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCDAzWG62dI/AAAAAAAAANU/p5lmpgv7ELM/s320/baby+feet.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Babies, babies all around...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there has been somewhat of a mini baby boom going on around me lately. A couple of my good friends and some family members are all being blessed with a new bundle of joy this summer. That just means we ALL know what you guys were doing this past winter...&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I am always super happy when a baby comes along, as I feel a baby is always a blessing. One of my closest friends in particular I am super happy for. She has suffered through a lot of heartache and difficulty to get where she is today. Now she is just weeks from having her second child and everything is looking good. I praise the lord in my daily prayers for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little part of me is super jealous. I LOVE newborn babies. Its my favorite stage. Really don't get me wrong, I love every stage of my kids life. But there is nothing like having that newborn baby around. Being COMPLETELY exhausted from labor and delivery but not even noticing. The little grunting noise. Cuddling up with that sweet babe while they nurse. BUT...I will just relish in all of my friends joy at the moment. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. I am so happy for all of you receiving your little miracles. Whether your expanding your family, or just starting out, you are in for the greatest ride in your life. Hold on tight, its a bumpy one, but its great. Congrats!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1216340444277450191?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1216340444277450191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1216340444277450191' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1216340444277450191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1216340444277450191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/babies-babies.html' title='Babies babies'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TCDAzWG62dI/AAAAAAAAANU/p5lmpgv7ELM/s72-c/baby+feet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1897762072096755339</id><published>2010-06-21T04:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T04:43:59.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beached whale</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Why am I SO terrified of this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TB5YPgOpE8I/AAAAAAAAANE/WnX7-_LxA7M/s1600/bikini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TB5YPgOpE8I/AAAAAAAAANE/WnX7-_LxA7M/s320/bikini.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So there is a little boat, hot tub situation going on for me this coming weekend and I am TERRIFIED! I do have to say that I am very proud of my body. I have lost a lot of weight, and I have been toning spots on my body that I never even knew existed! But...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;OK so really its just one area and no matter how hard&amp;nbsp; have tried, I can't do anything about it. Its my stomach. And its nothing to do with the muscles, that are perfectly toned, it has to do with the loose skin and stretchmarks that I have picked up over the years. There's no hiding that in a two piece. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So this is what I hate about myself. Its not the loose skin that I hate-because every time I see it I'm reminded of the two beautiful boys I have. Its that I really can't come to peace with it. I am a confident woman. But this is just messing with my mind. It kills my confidence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So this week, I am off to hopefully find a decent looking one piece. Or I can just stay in this weekend. Hum.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1897762072096755339?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1897762072096755339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1897762072096755339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1897762072096755339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1897762072096755339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/beached-whale.html' title='Beached whale'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TB5YPgOpE8I/AAAAAAAAANE/WnX7-_LxA7M/s72-c/bikini.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6964389361481199674</id><published>2010-06-18T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T05:24:21.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Found love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I found "love" again. This time, it was on my leg. Really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBtclnEBGlI/AAAAAAAAAM8/ids7WW7-8mk/s1600/heart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBtclnEBGlI/AAAAAAAAAM8/ids7WW7-8mk/s320/heart1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The hole was in my pants when I bought them. And no they aren't second hand...purchased them brand new. Its apparently the style now. All the cool kids are doing it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Okay so remember my&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-i-have-learned.html"&gt;post Washington trip&lt;/a&gt; blog about how you don't need to search for love, because it will find you? It was there in Washington at &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Tumwater&lt;/span&gt; Falls that I literally found the pool of love. And its when I started to come to peace with putting my failed marriage behind me and moving on to what life had in store for me. At that time, I didn't know what the good Lord had planned for me, but I was putting my trust into him. He's never let me down before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Long story short, I started dating shortly after my trip. I went into dating with no expectations. I wasn't looking for "Mr. Right". I was just wanting to get out there and see what my options were. I chatted it up with a few guys, was asked if I could be spanked by one freak, and went&amp;nbsp;on a few dates. I wasn't out there actively looking for The One. Then I went on this date...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Now I am not sitting here ready to announce to the whole world that I am in love. I don't know what I am in, its still a very new relationship. But I do know that I have met an amazing man. He respects me, he thinks I am smart and funny, and we always have a great time together. Where I was more trying to go with this post was the fact that you really don't need to look for love. It will find you, when you are ready for it. When you open your heart completely to allow the good, and sometimes the bad in, you open yourself up to possibilities. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So needless to say, I really&amp;nbsp;wasn't looking for what I have now. It found me. And I am the happiest I have been in a long time. And now "love" continues to find me on a daily basis. In pools of water, in clouds above, and on my pants. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&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/3496849550734450425-6964389361481199674?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6964389361481199674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6964389361481199674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6964389361481199674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6964389361481199674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/found-love.html' title='Found love'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBtclnEBGlI/AAAAAAAAAM8/ids7WW7-8mk/s72-c/heart1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5722537116054933038</id><published>2010-06-16T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T06:43:50.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch what you say</title><content type='html'>So the storm has started. Its kinda my fault, I should have been wiser about&amp;nbsp;the steps that I took. OK so here's the thing. F-ing Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so as you followers probably know, I have changed my relationship status on facebook. I have been hush hush because of several reasons. 1. My divorce isn't final yet. Everything is done, but the whole legal process takes some time. 2. This new relationship is not something I expected, or even sought out. It just really happened. BUT I am extremely happy. Hence me wanting to share my happiness with those in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I changed my status without thinking and I changed it before I was able to delete some people who its really not their business to know. And now there are some awful comments floating around about me. And they are being said by people who don't really know a thing about whats going on between my ex husband and I. And that is OK really, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. What has really upset me is the comments and questioning of my parenting skills. You can call me all the names in the world that you want to, but when you open your mouth and insinuate that I am a bad mother and I don't care about MY children, you are very much crossing the line. My kids have been the NUMBER ONE priority in my life from day one. And that's exactly where they remain. And that's true for both my ex and I. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that there is hurt and anger coming from everyone that has been involved in my life and my exes life. I know that people are gonna take sides and feel the need to protect or defend those that they love. But the end of our marriage was a mutual decision. Nobody is doing anybody wrong, or intentional hurting the other. Its just time for us to move one. Both of us. So there really&amp;nbsp;is no&amp;nbsp;need for name calling and lashing out. And really there is no need to put into question what kind of mother I am. I am a damn good mother, those boys are my life. And my dating life is MY dating life as of right now. My kids are not being affected in any way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be the only blog post that I devote to this. I really hate to put this out here, and I know that now I am making it every ones business, but I am more trying to stat a fact. Watch what you say and especially how you say it. Think before you speak. You may be angry but words can cut very deeply. And really when it comes to two peoples relationship, you yourself have NO idea whats going on within the relationship unless your the one in it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5722537116054933038?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5722537116054933038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5722537116054933038' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5722537116054933038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5722537116054933038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/watch-what-you-say.html' title='Watch what you say'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3904241502677259595</id><published>2010-06-15T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T08:58:54.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just one of em days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBejHxOLLBI/AAAAAAAAAM0/FMtZTIAD6Xs/s1600/pulling+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBejHxOLLBI/AAAAAAAAAM0/FMtZTIAD6Xs/s320/pulling+hair.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm going crazy. No really I am. Its just one of those days today. Where everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. Murphy's law right? I woke up with an upset stomach, Eddie peed himself last night, I forgot to move the towels over, Luke has some weird rash on his butt, breakfast needs to be made, had to go grocery shopping with two screaming, fighting kids. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I'm retaining water so I feel disgusting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I have bad days. Sometimes one after another. I am usually a happy go lucky kinda person, but I DO have bad days, just like everyone else. I may not have a job, but I am a stay at home mom like 24/7 who is trying to FIND a f-&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt; job. Do you know how hard it is to even get a moment to take a pee when you have two crazy kids who tear up the house the moment you blink? Searching online for jobs can take hours, and don't even get me started on trying to pick up the phone and make some calls with two screaming kids in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am done with today. I may even be done with tomorrow. Hell, I think I am just gonna give up until this coming weekend is over. I have my issues too people. I have my own things I am dealing with. So due to some technical difficulties, your regular scheduled Courtney may not return until Monday June 21st. Thank you for your patience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3904241502677259595?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3904241502677259595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3904241502677259595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3904241502677259595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3904241502677259595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-one-of-em-days.html' title='Just one of em days'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/TBejHxOLLBI/AAAAAAAAAM0/FMtZTIAD6Xs/s72-c/pulling+hair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2030411260163469051</id><published>2010-06-14T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T08:55:19.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What woman love about men</title><content type='html'>There are a ton of other things I should be doing right now besides writing. Fixing my resume, cleaning my bathroom, or even showering as I just got back from the gym. Yeah gross I know. But I haven't written in a week. I took a break. I needed it. That's all I'm gonna say. But I was reading some articles today and came across this one titled &lt;a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/sex/what-men-love-about-women-1690129/"&gt;What men love about women&lt;/a&gt;. And I got to thinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this isn't at all &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;scie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;ntifical&lt;/span&gt; (is that even a word?), being that I am pretty much the only woman contributing to this blog, but I thought I would share a few things that THIS woman loves about men. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you help balance us out.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a pretty take control kinda gal. I am a mom so I am always having to make decisions and choices for my kids. I am constantly having to take the helm in my professional life and personal. So I like it when you help balance me out and you take control every once in awhile. Chose the restaurant, decide what we are gonna do, make the first move. Its really sexy to see a man in a mans role, and it take the pressure off of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you make us laugh.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a bad day. The kids both were sick, I got rejected for another job, I am &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;PMSing&lt;/span&gt;, and I have a breakout going on on my forehead that is starting to resemble a map of a small village. We love it when you can kick us out of that bad mood and make us forget whatever put us in that &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; mood to begin with. Extra points if you can make us laugh till our sides hurt, or we feel like we are gonna pee our pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you pay attention to us.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the most confident of girls can feel a little insecure from time to time. We can't all be on our A game 100% of the time, and its when we are feeling down and low about ourselves&amp;nbsp;that Ms. Hotness walks in and grabs the attention of everyone in the room. Except yours. You are still enthralled in my conversation about some dumb book I finally finished reading or how I remember to correctly spell medical terminology. Now WE feel like the hottest girl in the room, no matter what Ms. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Hottie&lt;/span&gt; looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you think we are smart.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very proud of my educated brain. I worked hard to get where I am, and I sacrificed a lot. Its part of me.&amp;nbsp;So I love it when my smartness turns a guy on. Plus it shows that you are more quality of a man for wanting Ms. Smarty Pants instead of Ms. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Hottie&lt;/span&gt; who probably can't even spell her own name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2030411260163469051?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2030411260163469051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2030411260163469051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2030411260163469051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2030411260163469051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-woman-love-about-men.html' title='What woman love about men'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-9162052072060648751</id><published>2010-06-09T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T18:24:12.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>?????????</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. ~Katharine Hepburn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the wise words of Katie Hepburn. A woman with hootzpah. Gumption. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Ah the eternal question. Why can't we just all get along? Why can't men understand us women? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Maybe its a question that is not meant to awnser. Perhaps life wouldn't be near as fun if we all understood eachother and lived happily together. I mean where would the fun be, if while dating, you never ran into&amp;nbsp;a moment where you butt heads or misunderstood eachother? Maybe in some silly strange way, its the universe forcing us to accept everyone for what they are. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Maybe I have had too much tequila in my margarita to try and awnser this question tonight. LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-9162052072060648751?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/9162052072060648751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=9162052072060648751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/9162052072060648751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/9162052072060648751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title='?????????'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8319812640163560794</id><published>2010-06-06T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T18:07:46.778-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Front page news</title><content type='html'>Sandra Bullock appeared in public this weekend!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos.tmz.com/galleries/sandra_bullock_gallery#tab=most_recent"&gt;And here's the pictures to prove it!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really people. No wonder the girl is afraid to leave her house. Cause y'all lose your damn minds when she does! Yes its quite scandalous what happened to her. Yes Jesse James is a complete douche bag for screwing up what he had with her. And yes her new baby boy is freaking adorable and how could anyone (I'm &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;talkin&lt;/span&gt; to you Jesse) do that to such a precious little boy. But leave the girl alone!!! She has enough crap to deal with. Let her deal and get back to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. It happens everyday. Its sad and it sucks. But men cheat. They think with their penis. It tells them what to do and they listen. Its about the only time they&amp;nbsp;follow someone barking orders at them. I am sure she is heartbroken.&amp;nbsp;She loved that man with all of her heart&amp;nbsp;and not only did he make her feel like a fool by cheating on her, but now she has to share it all with the rest of the world cause we won't leave her be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8319812640163560794?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8319812640163560794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8319812640163560794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8319812640163560794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8319812640163560794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/front-page-news.html' title='Front page news'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1986164908727383442</id><published>2010-06-03T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T14:20:48.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer break</title><content type='html'>I don't have school aged kids. So my babies are always on break from school at the moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my brain is on summer vacation. I can't think about anything. Besides medical jargon. As I sit here with my hands on the keyboard fulling willing to write some whitty little blog about my boys or how silly relationships are, I am stuck. I can't think of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my brain cells are like the teachers and they are throwing little parties in my grey matter that its summer break and they don't have to work. HAHA ok I got a little whitty there with my medical jargon. Hows that for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so today, not so creative. Promise to return tomorrow with something better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1986164908727383442?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1986164908727383442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1986164908727383442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1986164908727383442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1986164908727383442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/summer-break.html' title='Summer break'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8942141950624301271</id><published>2010-06-02T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T07:37:20.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt</title><content type='html'>I'm a mom. I feel it all the time. Guilt. It eats at me. And over the silliest things sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was awful. Yet again my allergies have my head completely plugged up. The irony being that I can't breathe out of my nose, but it was running constantly. I couldn't even get up and walk to the kitchen because the pressure was awful. So I laid on the couch. I laid on the couch all day long and only got up when absolutely necessary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which meant that the boys played alone all day long. They got toys out, played blocks, built legos, watched movies or cartoons. But without the company of mommy. And it made me feel even more miserable. Because I felt guilty that I was resting and trying to feel better. Yes I felt guilty that I wasn't feeling good and couldn't build legos with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its always there. I have gotten better about getting away and having alone time. The first few times, even&amp;nbsp;the thought of alone time made me feel guilty. But I got more used to taking my alone time. Now I feel guilty when I have my alone time and I enjoy it. The guilt just never ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It never ends because I am a mother. And because I am a mother, I feel the need to devote my whole life to these little guys. I am getting better, and I have realized that to be a good mother to these guys I have to take care of myself. Sometimes that means resting when I am sick, or getting out by myself when I feel I need a break. And I know that the guilt is a good thing. Because it means my little guys are always on my mind and in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8942141950624301271?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8942141950624301271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8942141950624301271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8942141950624301271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8942141950624301271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/06/guilt.html' title='Guilt'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3170278380945809460</id><published>2010-05-28T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T06:08:04.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial day</title><content type='html'>Its one of the best 3 day weekends EVER. The unofficial start of summer. The grills get fired up, decorative table clothes are brought out, and no doubt there are a number of adult beverages served. Its a time when most of us realize &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; summer is about to start. From here until fall our time will be spent with baseball games, water activities, and late nights watching the lighting bugs and enjoying the warm nights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just remember to take a few moments this weekend to remember what the holiday was created for in the first place. To memorialize those that are no longer with us. Most importantly, those that have served for our nation to give us the freedoms we enjoy today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And please remember above all, to be safe! And to be responsible. I can't help it, the mom in me always comes out. I hope y'all enjoy your weekend. I sure know that I am going to!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3170278380945809460?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3170278380945809460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3170278380945809460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3170278380945809460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3170278380945809460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/memorial-day.html' title='Memorial day'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7903584692191745551</id><published>2010-05-27T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T06:18:13.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poker Face</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_1Frv1S9JI/AAAAAAAAAMs/MMc_KtLpiSE/s1600/poker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_1Frv1S9JI/AAAAAAAAAMs/MMc_KtLpiSE/s200/poker.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am usually pretty good with lyrics. I can usually understand what an artist is saying and can identify with them from one point in my life or another. Except with Lady Gaga. I don't understand&amp;nbsp; her half the time. Love the music, love the beat, but just don't get the words. That is until&amp;nbsp;Tuesday night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am a &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Gleek&lt;/span&gt;. I love the show Glee. Music, high school drama, its great. So Tuesday's theme was theatrics where they put Lady &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Gaga's&lt;/span&gt; song and fashion sense (or lack thereof) into play. But there was one song that I just loved. It was Poker Face, but done in a different way. Sung by Lea Michele and one of my favorite &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;broadway&lt;/span&gt; stars &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Idina&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Menzel&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYkfAjWyOwg"&gt;You can go here&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;to hear their version. I love it. So today I thought I would post the lyrics. Now that I can understand them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna hold em like the do in Texas place&lt;br /&gt;Fold em, let em hit me, raise it, baby stay with me&lt;br /&gt;Love the game, intuition, play the cards with spades to start&lt;br /&gt;and after he's been hooked I'll play the one that's on his heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh uh-oh oh, oh uh-oh oh&lt;br /&gt;I'll get him hard&amp;nbsp;and show him what I've got&lt;br /&gt;Oh uh-oh, oh, oh uh-oh oh&lt;br /&gt;I'll get him hard and show him what I've got&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my &lt;br /&gt;Poker Face, she's got to love nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my&lt;br /&gt;Poker Face, she's got to love nobody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poker face&lt;br /&gt;Poker face&lt;br /&gt;Poker face&lt;br /&gt;Poker face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna roll with him,&amp;nbsp;a hard pair&amp;nbsp;we will be&lt;br /&gt;A little gambling is fun when your with me&lt;br /&gt;Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun&lt;br /&gt;And baby when its love if&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;aint&lt;/span&gt; rough it&amp;nbsp;isn't fun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh uh-oh oh, oh uh-oh oh&lt;br /&gt;I'll get him hard and show him what I got&lt;br /&gt;Oh uh-oh oh, oh uh-oh oh&lt;br /&gt;I'll get him hard and show him what I got&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my &lt;br /&gt;Poker face, she's got to love nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my&lt;br /&gt;Poker face, she's got to love nobody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't tell you that I love, kiss or hug you&amp;nbsp;cause I'm bluffing&lt;br /&gt;with my muffin&lt;br /&gt;I'm not lying, I'm just stunning with my love blue &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;gunnin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like&amp;nbsp;a chick in a casino, take your bank &lt;br /&gt;before I pay you out&lt;br /&gt;I promise this, I promise this, check this hand&lt;br /&gt;cause I am marvelous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm marvelous&lt;br /&gt;I'm marvelous&lt;br /&gt;I'm marvelous&lt;br /&gt;So marvelous&lt;br /&gt;She's got to love nobody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my&lt;br /&gt;Poker face, she's got to love nobody&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7903584692191745551?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7903584692191745551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7903584692191745551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7903584692191745551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7903584692191745551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/poker-face.html' title='Poker Face'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_1Frv1S9JI/AAAAAAAAAMs/MMc_KtLpiSE/s72-c/poker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5416536202964908370</id><published>2010-05-26T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T05:20:30.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fellas!</title><content type='html'>I love it when boys fight over me. "She's mine!".&amp;nbsp;"NO She's MINE!". Boys there is plenty of me to go around!!! I'm starting to feel like the newest Bacherlorette!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I am talking about MY boys, you know those two little guys I kinda gave life to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning we wake up (lately it has been to sunshine-thank you lord for another beautiful day!) and the boys get their cups of milk and ask for either a pop tart, a bowl of cereal, or a bowl of oatmeal. Hey what can I say they are simple just like me. In between bites of soggy cereal or sticky pop tart I can always rely on hugs, kisses and cuddles from my guys. But lately it has gotten really ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one is in my lap, or cuddled up beside me, the other one looses their mind! I have to admit, its kinda really cute. I mean who doesn't like others vying for your attention? I remember my mom used to get so annoyed when my sister and I fought over who got to sit next to her. But I kinda like to her my boys fight over me. Because I know that in their fragile little minds, they just want to be loved. And I get to save the day when I am able to show them that I can love them both at the same time. Its an awesome feeling to be a mom and know that your kids just want you to love them, and they are satisfied with just that. Perhaps its something to learn from them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the wise words of The Beatles-maybe all you do need is love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5416536202964908370?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5416536202964908370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5416536202964908370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5416536202964908370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5416536202964908370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/fellas.html' title='Fellas!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5856708358240002231</id><published>2010-05-25T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T12:15:32.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Poop!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_wbBuZ5BVI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hb2AsktxtbA/s1600/elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_wbBuZ5BVI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hb2AsktxtbA/s200/elephant.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had a very interesting trip to the zoo this weekend. The boys love to go see the "&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;aminals&lt;/span&gt;" as they call them. Its super cute actually cause they really get into it. They ask to see certain animals and they are the kids that can sit there and watch one animal for awhile. But there was one topic of concern for both of them this past weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where do the &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;aminals&lt;/span&gt; poop?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie was really concerned with this. Every animal we saw, same question. He was really concerned when he found out that because they were wild animals that they didn't have a need for a bathroom or a backyard like our dogs. But it really hit home once we saw the elephants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to a strict diet of grass, hay, and who knows what else kind of fiber, the elephants showed my naive 3 year old just what I was trying to explain to him. And what was his first reaction? "Zookeeper you need to clean the poop up!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the onset of embarrassment was over, I felt a little pride in the way Eddie handled himself. For one, he knew that he was simply not big enough to handle that um...load on his own and called for help. And he realized that sometimes there is going be poop in your life and the best way to deal is to just&amp;nbsp;clean it up and move on. He is such a smart little guy, and I am so proud of him. Even if his biggest concern right now is poop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5856708358240002231?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5856708358240002231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5856708358240002231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5856708358240002231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5856708358240002231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/oh-poop.html' title='Oh Poop!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_wbBuZ5BVI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Hb2AsktxtbA/s72-c/elephant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1844552273743115807</id><published>2010-05-24T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T05:45:39.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Greener pastures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_pw_D1TH3I/AAAAAAAAAMc/MkH7dMIrw5E/s1600/green+grass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="146" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_pw_D1TH3I/AAAAAAAAAMc/MkH7dMIrw5E/s200/green+grass.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So a little discussion over the weekend has gotten me thinking today. Is the grass always greener on the other side? Or are we simply responsible for watering our own?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a single gals life, you have to sift through a lot of the forest to find that one tree (pardon all the puns, I'm on a nature kick for some reason). Its very time consuming, and at some times discouraging. It can, at some points, get a girl down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was pointed out to me that I seem to be enjoying the whole process. It may be beginners luck being that I have only been at this dating thing for about a month. It could be that I just like meeting new people. Or it simply could be that I happen to think my lawn is very well manicured and inviting so I am just finding someone to appreciate it (and please get your mind out of the gutters people, I am just going along with the greener grass analogy.). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes other people's lawn are greener than mine. Some even have very pretty flowers and&amp;nbsp;some snazzy lawn decorations. But I have put a lot of care into my yard. And a lot of the work I have done on my own. I have watered the grass when it was almost dead and brought it back to life. I've had to mow it on my own when the grass has gotten too high. I've had to pick up broken branches and all kinds of debris when the winds have been too strong. I've even planted some flowers to make it smell and look pretty. I happen to like the way my lawn looks now. So those who can't appreciate what I have done with it, they can keep walking on to the next yard. No matter what, my grass will always be a nice shade of green because I am content with doing the work on my own. I happen to think its a great place to be, and I will always find contentment in my own garden.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1844552273743115807?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1844552273743115807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1844552273743115807' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1844552273743115807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1844552273743115807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/happy-girl.html' title='Greener pastures'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_pw_D1TH3I/AAAAAAAAAMc/MkH7dMIrw5E/s72-c/green+grass.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6646389629685359761</id><published>2010-05-21T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T11:35:34.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some goofiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Anyone who knows me, knows that I am goofy. Well I think its a trait that has carried on to my boys. All I have to do is turn on my web cam and snap away, and they are entertained for awhile. So thanking the heavens that its Friday, I thought I would share some goofy web cam pics of us. Please try to&amp;nbsp;contain your laughter until the end of this blog post. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRnIHPY1I/AAAAAAAAAL8/4Qpq20IEbh4/s1600/Snapshot_20100518_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRnIHPY1I/AAAAAAAAAL8/4Qpq20IEbh4/s320/Snapshot_20100518_1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRz0FJJsI/AAAAAAAAAME/nN3i432YQeU/s1600/Snapshot_20100518_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRz0FJJsI/AAAAAAAAAME/nN3i432YQeU/s320/Snapshot_20100518_5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRbshYI6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/8fDgW6dw1JY/s1600/Snapshot_20100518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRbshYI6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/8fDgW6dw1JY/s320/Snapshot_20100518.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bSALTvzcI/AAAAAAAAAMM/BkWheRbQZCs/s1600/Snapshot_20100518_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bSALTvzcI/AAAAAAAAAMM/BkWheRbQZCs/s320/Snapshot_20100518_9.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bSHl6zb8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/oHvRf0dIbIY/s1600/Snapshot_20100518_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bSHl6zb8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/oHvRf0dIbIY/s320/Snapshot_20100518_8.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I love these guys so much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6646389629685359761?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6646389629685359761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6646389629685359761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6646389629685359761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6646389629685359761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/some-goofiness.html' title='Some goofiness'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_bRnIHPY1I/AAAAAAAAAL8/4Qpq20IEbh4/s72-c/Snapshot_20100518_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6485056946188783225</id><published>2010-05-20T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T10:40:43.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm the girl you want</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;. OK the thought came across me yesterday just how similar interview for a job and going on a first date are. Since I am going through both at the same time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will be sitting there, talking about all my strengths and how I work on my weaknesses. Then I have to stop myself. Wait...am I on a job interview or a date? &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its so funny how we have to sell ourselves these days. We have to try our hardest to prove to another party just how great we are. Whether we are looking for employment or looking for love. I would not be surprised if a date would ask for a resume. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in an effort to impress a potential boss or boyfriend I have compiled yet another list of my strengths and why I would be the girl for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I am very much a people person. Although I can work on my own, I prefer to be in the company of others to make my work day a little more bearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*One of my weaknesses is I am terrible at remembering dates and times. But I do have a system in place of writing down times and dates on a calendar that I keep at my desk and then following through with putting it in my blackberry with a set reminder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I am really laid back, so I don't get frazzled in moments of chaos. I simply set goals in order of importance and follow through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I rule with a velvet gloved iron fist. I believe that you can manage a team of people successfully while maintaining a positive attitude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I love to hang out with friends, family, catch a sporting event, drink a beer. (ya this one is aimed more to a potential mate than employer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay my minds gone. That's all I got today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6485056946188783225?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6485056946188783225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6485056946188783225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6485056946188783225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6485056946188783225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-girl-you-want.html' title='I&apos;m the girl you want'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6164402699340357023</id><published>2010-05-19T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T10:13:24.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am an AWESOME girl</title><content type='html'>I know I have said this before. Really its more an affirmation to myself than bragging. But I am an awesome girl. Woman. Lady. Whatever you wanna call me as long as its nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Sportscenter&lt;/span&gt; voluntarily. I LOVE college football (Hook 'em Horns!). I drink beer, out of a bottle. I actually like to eat food, and I'm talking about the stuff that's not really good for you like chicken wings, fries, deep fried &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;twinkies&lt;/span&gt;. I love to do things outdoors like 4 &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;wheelin&lt;/span&gt;, camping, building a fire. I have the humor of a 12 year old boy, so I'm not easily offended. I'm secure with myself so other woman don't make me jealous. I'm intelligent, funny, I ask the silliest questions (questions like do you step out of the stream of water in the shower to lather up? Not the dumb "what are you thinking about" questions.). I like being girlie with doing my hair and putting on make-up but I like to play in the mud too.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;don't play games,&amp;nbsp;if I am thinking something I just say it.&amp;nbsp;I'm not your typical girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But lets not confuse my openness with being easy. Yes I may be laid back and perfectly content with doing something more on the lines of catching a sporting event for a date. But I am still a woman, and I still require the NORMAL things that most girls require before I allow you a backstage pass to my dressing room (thanks Anna!). Woo me. Please. And just that normal sweet talk with telling me that I'm pretty and funny isn't enough. Call me high &lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" goog-spell-original="matinence"&gt;maintenance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, or you can even tell me I'm full of myself. But what I have to give is pretty freaking awesome (I come with great credentials if you don't believe me! &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;), so your gonna have to be even more freaking awesome to get a preview of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To quote Forrest &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Gump&lt;/span&gt;, that's all I have to say about that. OK. Mindless rant over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6164402699340357023?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6164402699340357023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6164402699340357023' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6164402699340357023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6164402699340357023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-awesome-girl.html' title='I am an AWESOME girl'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2035371814289251923</id><published>2010-05-18T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T09:37:46.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If only</title><content type='html'>If only...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I could enjoy life the way my boys do. Seriously as long as a cartoon is on or there are toys to play with, they are set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I had made up my mind of what I wanted to be when I grew up before I actually grew up. I would be working in my chosen profession already instead of working towards it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I had not gotten lazy during my 2nd pregnancy, I would have a &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;rockin&lt;/span&gt; body right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I wasn't so stubborn. Although it helps in some situations, it kills me in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I would have kept my mouth shut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I went to bed earlier at night, I wouldn't be so tired during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~My blackberry could cuddle me, then I would have the perfect relationship! &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~This love stuff wasn't so hard. We would all suffer less heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many things to regret in life. But sometimes you have to remember that the mistakes you have made in the past, have made you who you are today.&amp;nbsp;As long as you learn from the mistakes and move forward, you are always growing. I am actually thankful for all the things I have been through then and even now. Because it has made me the person that I am today. I&amp;nbsp;think that's a pretty wonderful woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2035371814289251923?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2035371814289251923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2035371814289251923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2035371814289251923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2035371814289251923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/if-only.html' title='If only'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-255570110369850128</id><published>2010-05-17T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T05:21:51.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Many things make me happy. Sunshine, coffee, finding a $20 dollar bill. But there is one specific thing that I can always count on. Well actually its two things, but they are kinda rolled up into the price of one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_Ex0IXR7gI/AAAAAAAAALs/4wHHuSEMTT4/s1600/739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_Ex0IXR7gI/AAAAAAAAALs/4wHHuSEMTT4/s320/739.JPG" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;These two guys are the source of everything that I am. I never thought it possible to love someone so much. I have loved several people throughout my life. Great loves. But I have never loved someone as much as I love these two. They make me happy on a sad day, drive me crazy, make me laugh. Nothing compares to hearing them tell me "You're the best mommy in the whole world!". It makes me feel like the luckiest person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life gets tough. Sometimes you are stuck in less than desirable situations and it can get you down. When I get there, my guys pull me out. As long as I have my boys, I can get through anything. They are all I need. Everything else that I have in my life, is just gravy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-255570110369850128?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/255570110369850128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=255570110369850128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/255570110369850128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/255570110369850128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-happiness.html' title='My happiness'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S_Ex0IXR7gI/AAAAAAAAALs/4wHHuSEMTT4/s72-c/739.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-724712521275966342</id><published>2010-05-13T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T06:15:13.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mental Lists</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-v5vIayVPI/AAAAAAAAALk/mWMLWDa9FXY/s1600/todolist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-v5vIayVPI/AAAAAAAAALk/mWMLWDa9FXY/s320/todolist.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;You know, sometimes I really hate that I have a brain and that I use it. So I am sitting here, still feeling miserable and all I can think about is taking a hot bath to make myself feel a little better. But then my mind starts to automatically make a mental list of all the things I must do before I allow myself a bath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Clean bathroom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Sweep and mop kitchen floor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Vacuum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Clean marker off&amp;nbsp;living room wall, kids room wall, hallway wall, and tile in the bathroom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Dust&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Fold and put away laundry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Unload dishwasher&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;See it never ends. But today I just can't get going. Usually I can find the energy from somewhere to at least check off a couple things, but today its not working. I want to curl up in bed and doze in and out of sleep whenever I feel like it. But no such luck. So perhaps I will go clean my bathroom and feel good that I at least got ONE thing checked off the list. At least I'll have a clean tub to soak in whenever I get the chance for&amp;nbsp;a bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a side note, I really need to get over this crap. Its draining every creative ounce outta me and these posts have sucked as of lately. BOO! I hate being sick!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-724712521275966342?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/724712521275966342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=724712521275966342' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/724712521275966342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/724712521275966342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/mental-lists.html' title='Mental Lists'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-v5vIayVPI/AAAAAAAAALk/mWMLWDa9FXY/s72-c/todolist.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5092099739226936384</id><published>2010-05-12T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T15:52:02.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slacker</title><content type='html'>OK. So I was off for the day and forgot to get a blog posted earlier. But give me a break, I am coming down with something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-sw_aui9bI/AAAAAAAAALc/uxcO2i_btEE/s1600/kleenex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-sw_aui9bI/AAAAAAAAALc/uxcO2i_btEE/s320/kleenex.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I think its a cold. Or allergies. Or a cold. I don't know. All I know is that my head is plugged up that its hard to hear, my throat is raw and I dread swallowing my own spit, and I am sneezing so much that I don't need to work on my abs cause the blow from a sneeze is enough that I am pretty sure I will have six pack by the time this sickness leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel miserable. So tonight, it will be dinner, bath, and I am going to be the worst momma in the world and let the boys lay down and watch a movie until the fall asleep. Because I am one exhausted momma. I am tired, I don't feel good. I'm giving in. And yes, I will be in bed and hopefully asleep by 9pm. What a fun evening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5092099739226936384?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5092099739226936384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5092099739226936384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5092099739226936384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5092099739226936384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/slacker.html' title='Slacker'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-sw_aui9bI/AAAAAAAAALc/uxcO2i_btEE/s72-c/kleenex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3443021386302687371</id><published>2010-05-11T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T05:46:03.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Info overload!</title><content type='html'>I stole this from a blogger momma that I follow, &lt;a href="http://www.momtobee.com/"&gt;Mom to Bee&lt;/a&gt;, simply because I love to talk about the most fabulous girl in the world...ME!! Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am…feeling very good with where my life is going right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think…about the strangest things sometimes. Even I stop and say "where the hell did that come from?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should…learn to slow down sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dream…the weirdest things. My dreams are never consistent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want…to just be happy, while bringing happiness to everyone else around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know…that I am an amazing woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t like…mean, dishonest, rude, miserable people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smell…like nothing, I never remember to wear perfume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear…screaming and whining WAY too much. And not just from my kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear…choking on my shower water, literally dying alone and being dead for days before someone finds me, and my boys turning into teenagers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually…waste my time daydreaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In&amp;nbsp;search…for a job. A full time job that's gonna help momma cover the bills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss…my sister, and my friend Selena, and my friend Starla and my cousin Floyd.I miss too many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always…say a curse word in every conversation. Shit. See there I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret…not going to school sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder...if my boys will love me as much later on in life as they do right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crave…honestly? I don't think I could even write it...lets just say it rhymes with um &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;rex&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember…life after I had my kids. I struggle with remembering what happened before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need...to get an f-&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt; job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget...to eat sometimes. Good thing your body does the whole&amp;nbsp;little fainting thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;feel…like my life is starting to go the direction I want it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can…put my whole fist in my mouth, and still be able to talk. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t…handle&amp;nbsp;bullshit anymore. From anyone. Yeah grocery &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;bagger&lt;/span&gt; boy, I SAID I didn't want my milk in a bag. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy…with the people I choose to surround myself with. They may be a small group, but they are FABULOUS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lose…my sanity on a daily basis. Really I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sing…all the time. Nothing in particular just what comes to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listen…to two kids all the time. I appreciate adult time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shop…very wisely. Never do I pay full price unless absolutely necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eat...too many cupcakes.&amp;nbsp;Really I am thinking I need to see someone&amp;nbsp;about my dependency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love…my boys, more than anything. They are my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3443021386302687371?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3443021386302687371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3443021386302687371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3443021386302687371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3443021386302687371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/info-overload.html' title='Info overload!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3733587876843943581</id><published>2010-05-10T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T10:00:40.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterflies and flowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g5cOG1QaI/AAAAAAAAALU/4vahG7xMOQE/s1600/749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g5cOG1QaI/AAAAAAAAALU/4vahG7xMOQE/s320/749.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mothers day was great. It all started at 8am, which meant that I slept in, with Eddie waking me up to tell me they had made me breakfast. How does a 4 year old make breakfast you ask yourself? With the help of his father. Thankful there was some scrambled eggs and bacon instead of a cold pop tart that most likely was licked before it was given to me. Eddie came in my room and said in a quite whisper to wake me nicely "Momma, we have breakfast ready for you." So I said OK. He came back in 2 seconds later and said "Momma, we have presents for you too. We have blue flowers and some cards.". Cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After breakfast, we went to the &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Krohns&lt;/span&gt; Conservatory to see the butterfly exhibit they have. It was really cool, I have never been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g4jo_Wt5I/AAAAAAAAAK8/hZYaQVa18HU/s1600/741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g4jo_Wt5I/AAAAAAAAAK8/hZYaQVa18HU/s320/741.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g40IZrPWI/AAAAAAAAALE/1oOqh7lA0S0/s1600/739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g40IZrPWI/AAAAAAAAALE/1oOqh7lA0S0/s320/739.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g5F-TxAvI/AAAAAAAAALM/4ykxEM6-3TY/s1600/750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g5F-TxAvI/AAAAAAAAALM/4ykxEM6-3TY/s320/750.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I had one of the best Mothers Day yesterday. Just me and the boys and my mom. It was really fun to see the boys get so excited every time a butterfly flew by. It was a good day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3733587876843943581?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3733587876843943581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3733587876843943581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3733587876843943581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3733587876843943581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/butterflies-and-flowers.html' title='Butterflies and flowers'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-g5cOG1QaI/AAAAAAAAALU/4vahG7xMOQE/s72-c/749.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2476110202397189819</id><published>2010-05-07T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T09:32:17.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Moms Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-RAdqeUeYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/DSRVrutRsRY/s1600/momtat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-RAdqeUeYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/DSRVrutRsRY/s320/momtat.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In case any of you have forgotten, Sunday is Mothers Day. But instead of using this post to talk about how much of a kick ass mom I am, I want to use this post to talk about how kick ass MY mom is. But in an attempt to not becoming a blubbering mess, I will keep this short. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is an amazing woman. We have been through a lot these past 27 years. I will say that I was a kind kid though and kept the laboring hours down to 4 so I never tortured her like that. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;HAHA&lt;/span&gt; she can never use that against me! She is such a strong lady and I have learned a lot from her. She's been a teacher, counselor, friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people that have met my mother and met me tell me that I am just like her. Most woman will roll their eyes or make some joke. But I simply say thank you. Because I think that if I am like my mom, than I must be doing &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me just simply say that I love you Mom. Being a mom, I now know just how much you have given and sacrificed over time for me and you still do to this day. Thank you for everything you have done for me, and more than anything thank you for being a friend to me now.&amp;nbsp; I LOVE YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2476110202397189819?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2476110202397189819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2476110202397189819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2476110202397189819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2476110202397189819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/happy-moms-day.html' title='Happy Moms Day!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-RAdqeUeYI/AAAAAAAAAKs/DSRVrutRsRY/s72-c/momtat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7547892486467010223</id><published>2010-05-06T05:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T05:05:29.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old School</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-KwSPM9GyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/nK-EmpR-B9Y/s1600/nurse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-KwSPM9GyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/nK-EmpR-B9Y/s200/nurse.jpg" width="141" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So I have been really thinking lately about going back to school. Yes at almost 28 years of age, I am thinking of becoming a college student. Again. 3rd times the charm.&amp;nbsp;I have finally decided that I want to be a nurse. A surgical nurse. So not only do I have to get my &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;BSN&lt;/span&gt;, I also have to specialize in surgery. So not just some school, LOTS of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know when I&amp;nbsp;was growing up (and still to this day!) people have always told me that someday I will be happy with the fact that I look younger than what I am. Well that someday is now. I am SO thankful for my youthful look because now&amp;nbsp;I &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;wo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;n't&lt;/span&gt; feel like an old maid while sitting in class with a bunch of &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;youngins&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now the process begins of looking at schools. There are so many out there that offer nursing programs that the choice is pretty much up to me. I am nervous, scared, excited...a bunch of emotions all rolled into one. Its gonna be hard, but I am sure well worth it for me and my boys in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7547892486467010223?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7547892486467010223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7547892486467010223' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7547892486467010223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7547892486467010223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/old-school.html' title='Old School'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-KwSPM9GyI/AAAAAAAAAKk/nK-EmpR-B9Y/s72-c/nurse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-5981473439112088854</id><published>2010-05-05T05:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T05:35:36.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look at em Hooters!</title><content type='html'>And no this is not a post about owls. The job hunt is going nowhere for me, I have even started looking outside of the medical field for a full time job. So this thought actually, seriously crossed my mind yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-FlG7cIODI/AAAAAAAAAKc/x2qAQrtYMdY/s1600/hooters-girl-ashley1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-FlG7cIODI/AAAAAAAAAKc/x2qAQrtYMdY/s320/hooters-girl-ashley1.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yes I actually thought about running out to Hooters to pick up an application. How hard could it be huh? I have waiting experience. Get me a good push up bra and I am set. Flirt with a few guys and sit back and count my tips at the end of the day. Hey I could even get lucky enough and get picked as one of the girls that does like calendar work and promotions and stuff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Seriously people this is how badly I need a job right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-5981473439112088854?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/5981473439112088854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=5981473439112088854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5981473439112088854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/5981473439112088854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/look-at-em-hooters.html' title='Look at em Hooters!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-FlG7cIODI/AAAAAAAAAKc/x2qAQrtYMdY/s72-c/hooters-girl-ashley1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2607888236945775393</id><published>2010-05-04T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T05:50:03.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm already employed</title><content type='html'>Still job searching. I must put in about 15 resumes a day. I am even looking at non traditional ways of making some money like online survey taking and perhaps trying my hand at some crafts (yeah lets see how well THAT pans out for me!). Its becoming a full time NON paying job in itself to try and find a full time decent paying job. But I already have a full time job. I'm a stay at home mom as of right now. Here is a list of occupations I am well trained for thanks to my almost 4 years of experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Chef&lt;br /&gt;*Maid&lt;br /&gt;*Stylist&lt;br /&gt;*Nurse&lt;br /&gt;*Dry Cleaner&lt;br /&gt;*Personal Assistant&lt;br /&gt;*Taxi Driver&lt;br /&gt;*Counselor&lt;br /&gt;*Teacher&lt;br /&gt;*Entertainer&lt;br /&gt;*Events Coordinator/Even Planner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the list could go even longer if I wanted to spend A LOT of time thinking about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being "Mommy" has been the best job I have ever had. Its tough, its challenging. I often end the day wanting to pull my hair out and too exhausted to even sleep. But when you get one of these moments, its well worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-AWwieZHNI/AAAAAAAAAKE/G4b79Anvpuo/s1600/726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-AWwieZHNI/AAAAAAAAAKE/G4b79Anvpuo/s320/726.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I have no idea why there were hugging in the bathroom. We were getting ready for bath, and I was getting something. I walked in to hear Lucas tell Eddie that he was sorry and they hugged. It was very sweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;These two guys are my everything. When I have those days that I don't want to get up, when I want to throw in the towel, or when I just want to sit down and I cry...these guys get me through. So I guess I am saying, I love my job. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2607888236945775393?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2607888236945775393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2607888236945775393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2607888236945775393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2607888236945775393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-already-employed.html' title='I&apos;m already employed'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S-AWwieZHNI/AAAAAAAAAKE/G4b79Anvpuo/s72-c/726.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3407457602158572605</id><published>2010-05-03T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T05:20:33.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starved</title><content type='html'>Guys have it so easy these days. Really if we think about it they do. Before I start off this post today, please know that this is all just a generalized statement, or thought, or whatever you wanna call it. Okay here we go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking the other day about how complex relationships between men and women have become. I am sure that we have all at one point in time heard a man complain that a girl he was dating or seeing (yeah that's another topic for me-whats with all the labels??) wanted something more serious or wanted something more. And I got to thinking, can you blame us? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know from experience being that I at this moment am barely dipping my toes into the dating pool, but from what I hear there are a lot of jerks out there. So can you blame a girl when she finds a nice guy who treats her good, that she wants to lock it down and have it all to herself forever?&amp;nbsp; We are literally so&amp;nbsp;starved for romance these days that a guy who takes us to a nice dinner and shares a good conversation with us has us thinking about white dresses and happily ever after. Okay maybe its not THAT drastic, but you get my drift. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys have it so easy these days when it comes to dating. Really they do. There are so many good girls out there that just want to be appreciated and respected. Or perhaps its just me. But I do know that finding a respectable guy who treats you like a lady is really hard to find these days. So I guess to all my ladies out there, pucker up. Sounds like no matter what, we will still have to kiss a lot of frogs before we find our princes (and let me just say YUCK! Now you see why I haven't jumped into dating quite yet? &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3407457602158572605?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3407457602158572605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3407457602158572605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3407457602158572605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3407457602158572605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/05/starved.html' title='Starved'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-2637791587045789377</id><published>2010-04-30T05:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T05:39:16.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The imporatance of girls night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9rPOk6eVbI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/r701I7o0w34/s1600/girls+night+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9rPOk6eVbI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/r701I7o0w34/s320/girls+night+out.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Going out for dinner and drinks. Getting together for a movie. Getting dolled up to hit a dance floor together. Girls night. We all have them every once in awhile. Well not all of us, since all of us aren't girls. But all of us girls...you guys know what I'm saying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We woman are always in competition with each other. We have to compete for jobs, we have to compete for men. Its sad that in the year of 2010, we are still earning less than men, being passed over for jobs by men, and still being treated inferior to men. So us woman are forced to compete with each other. Still. Its hard to maintain relationship when we turn out to be each others arch enemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these silly girls night out are very important because it not only gives us a chance to get together and talk about just how silly guys are or discuss the latest Hollywood gossip, but it gives us a chance to bring the gap together between us. Unite. It helps us realize that we will never get to where we want to be unless we support each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight when I am making my way out to dinner and drinks with some of my girlfriends, I am doing so not just to get out of the house and away from the boys for a few hours, but to try and bring some peace into this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW-I hope all that are reading this can hear the heavy sarcasm that this post is drenched in. Yes its important for us girls to get together. But mainly so we can just talk about you boys in a safe place where you can't hear us! &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-2637791587045789377?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/2637791587045789377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=2637791587045789377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2637791587045789377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/2637791587045789377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/imporatance-of-girls-night.html' title='The imporatance of girls night'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9rPOk6eVbI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/r701I7o0w34/s72-c/girls+night+out.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-590061555597281110</id><published>2010-04-29T05:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T05:06:03.179-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An apology</title><content type='html'>Ok so yesterdays post may have been a little confusing to some. My only meanings behind writing that post yesterday was to get out what was on my mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not in a relationship with anyone. If I do get into a relationship with someone, it will take some time for me to build up my trust with the person before I allow that kind of physical relationship. Because I feel its important to have that trust with your partner and getting that trust built up takes some time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me also claify that my current needs are not causing me to run out and try to find my next husband. I am open to meeting people as of right now. But I believe that you can't plan things like love, it just happens to you. So if it happens, it happens. But I am not searching for THE ONE.&amp;nbsp;He will find me. I actually feel we will be brought together when the time is right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and one more thing, I don't think that coming up to the age of 28 is old by any means. Nor do I even think that my scary age of 37 is old. For me, there is just SO much that I want to accomplish by the age of 37 so I can start to slow down. Plus at 37 my boys will be teenagers and that alone is SCARY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I apologize if I gave anyone the wrong impression with my blog yesterday. I just think its silly that finally after 28 years of life, I am starting to feel that need that everyone else around me has been going through since we were 12. That was all I was intending to write and sometimes my silly mind takes me elsewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-590061555597281110?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/590061555597281110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=590061555597281110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/590061555597281110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/590061555597281110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/apology.html' title='An apology'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6352263131184411531</id><published>2010-04-28T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T06:02:25.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets talk about sex baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9gx0glVAKI/AAAAAAAAAJw/roEpMPCel_Q/s1600/xxx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9gx0glVAKI/AAAAAAAAAJw/roEpMPCel_Q/s1600/xxx.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Okay, it may be just the state of mind that I am in lately (oh and thank you birth control pills for the daily reminder of how much sex I am NOT having)&amp;nbsp;but sex is everywhere. Seriously its everywhere. Billboards, magazines, commercials, movies, our email. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so its no secret, I'm pretty sure all 14 of you (YES! I have 14 followers now! lol) know that I am pushing the ripe ol age of 28. No I do not think I am old-just to clarify my scary age is 37. But I am finding myself um...changing...to put it mildely. I am hitting that magically time in every womans life when the hormones turn against her and change her mind about things drastically. Yes I say turn against you because for most of us, we get to a time in our life when we actually WANT sex like 24/7 yet time has worked against us, making everything all that much harder for us. Whats the saying-nothing worth while comes easy or something? YEAH true that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why couldn't I have felt this way when I was younger and had a hot body that I didn't even have to work for? Why did I have to wait until now when I am almost 30 and less desireable? Mother nature is a cruel cruel woman. I don't even wanna call her a mother, there is no way one mother would do this to another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the random sex talk. We can tell that I have had sometime to think about it-obviously. You always want what you can't have right?&amp;nbsp;Stupid sex. Really. Must find something better to do with my free time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6352263131184411531?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6352263131184411531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6352263131184411531' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6352263131184411531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6352263131184411531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/lets-talk-about-sex-baby.html' title='Lets talk about sex baby'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9gx0glVAKI/AAAAAAAAAJw/roEpMPCel_Q/s72-c/xxx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1557657258361313434</id><published>2010-04-27T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T11:58:27.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9czfXW-TAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Yj9hqdJ0FK0/s1600/trust.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9czfXW-TAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Yj9hqdJ0FK0/s320/trust.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So I have started to think lately about how much we don't trust. Anyone. We don't trust our government, we don't trust the kid who bags our groceries.&amp;nbsp;Most of us don't even trust our significant others.&amp;nbsp; Meeting someone who is honest and open with you is such a rare thing these days, that you almost don't believe that person and go right back to the whole non trusting issue. Its almost harder these days to be honest than it is to be a liar. Almost. &amp;nbsp;Which makes me wonder.&amp;nbsp;Where is the trust?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pride myself on being an honest person. I am not perfect by any means and I of course do tell the occasional "white" lie. I am human. It happens. But I have learned that it is far easier to tell the truth and deal with what may come along with that good or bad, than it is to tell a lie. Because we all know that one lie leads to another that leads to yet another. I have a bad memory. I can't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So who are we really&amp;nbsp;protecting with all of our lies? Are we so selfish that we are more concerned with protecting ourselves with the&amp;nbsp;lies we tell, then helping those who look for our honesty? Does the liar themselves benefit in anyway from lying to someone?&amp;nbsp;Did&amp;nbsp;our parents really know what they were talking about when they said that telling the truth would make us feel better?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1557657258361313434?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1557657258361313434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1557657258361313434' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1557657258361313434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1557657258361313434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/trust-me.html' title='Trust me'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9czfXW-TAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Yj9hqdJ0FK0/s72-c/trust.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-6879670444556857133</id><published>2010-04-26T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T06:08:38.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Must write new post</title><content type='html'>Okay I was going to post more pics from my Washington trip, but figured that y'all were sick of hearing about it from me. So now I must get back into actually writing. What to write about hhmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have discovered how much I actually enjoy writing my blog everyday. With me being knee deep in resumes and trying to find any job at the moment that is gonna help me pay the bills, I find that it motivated me to put my mind elsewhere and be creative. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my thoughts are on shopping. Thanks to my new rocking hot bod (alright I know I am stretching the truth a little here...) I am in need of some new clothes. And of course with new clothes comes the need for new shoes and accessories.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it just so happens that today is a rainy day. Perfect day to stay inside. And shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as you go one about your day, curse your monday and look forward to the weekend already...please say a little prayer for my bank account. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-6879670444556857133?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/6879670444556857133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=6879670444556857133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6879670444556857133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/6879670444556857133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/must-write-new-post.html' title='Must write new post'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8778022740030254599</id><published>2010-04-23T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T13:40:26.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing some pics</title><content type='html'>I have nothing to write about today. Really, I couldn't even think of a list to make up! So I thought I would share some pics from my trip. I won't bore you too much, these are just some of my favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IA7idikRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/CcvwnRONSq0/s1600/577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IA7idikRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/CcvwnRONSq0/s320/577.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Outside the space needle. It was nice and sunny when we went in to get to the top. When we got out on the observation deck, it was grey and misting. Gotta love Washington weather!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9ICHfpD1MI/AAAAAAAAAI4/xj_Gu6UlOCY/s1600/590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9ICHfpD1MI/AAAAAAAAAI4/xj_Gu6UlOCY/s320/590.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Me and my sister on top of the space needle. Well not on top, they don't let you go that high. Trust me I asked!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IBnIrljzI/AAAAAAAAAIw/h_BlugbGlck/s1600/DSC_1786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IBnIrljzI/AAAAAAAAAIw/h_BlugbGlck/s320/DSC_1786.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Outside of the Music/Science Museum. Yeah we had some fun with the pink reflective wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9ICupFWw7I/AAAAAAAAAJA/-s9OvrMR3bI/s1600/641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9ICupFWw7I/AAAAAAAAAJA/-s9OvrMR3bI/s320/641.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I finally found the courage to get the tattoo on my wrist that I have always wanted. Yeah I wasn't scared at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IDWIjMAaI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Am2fESz0GUQ/s1600/661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IDWIjMAaI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Am2fESz0GUQ/s320/661.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The great thing about all the rain is that when it clears up just a little bit, rainbows pop up everywhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IE2ZESKII/AAAAAAAAAJY/WlHxuX_Weu4/s1600/DSC_1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IE2ZESKII/AAAAAAAAAJY/WlHxuX_Weu4/s320/DSC_1867.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I hate when when you go on vacation and you get crabs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IFF3EjMlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/2NMP3etQESc/s1600/0417002214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IFF3EjMlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/2NMP3etQESc/s320/0417002214.jpg" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Apparently I make one hot ass bleach blond babe. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Alright. I had more pics that I wanted to share than I thought. I will post more on Monday, gotta keep you guessing all weekend long! Have a great weekend!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; 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/3496849550734450425-8778022740030254599?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8778022740030254599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8778022740030254599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8778022740030254599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8778022740030254599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/sharing-some-pics.html' title='Sharing some pics'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9IA7idikRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/CcvwnRONSq0/s72-c/577.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-8715828421842801380</id><published>2010-04-22T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T05:52:03.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I have learned</title><content type='html'>Nothing. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;Haha&lt;/span&gt;. Just kidding. &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; so as it so often happens, you tend to go through some sort of self discovery on any trip you take. Even if that wasn’t your intentions of the trip, you get the time to think about yourself and the way you have handled and should handle things in your life. So guess what…I have compiled yet another list of things that I learned or experienced while in Washington. Ready? Here we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A day with any amount of sunshine in Washington is a good day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Be prepared for a little bit of rain. It’s gonna come and usually when you don’t expect it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~A nice little fleece can take you a long way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Perhaps I am bitter. Perhaps I don’t like the idea of traditional “love” right now. But I know that just like any other phase that I may go through in life, this too shall pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BAozVX4MI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/bKrT0Qud150/s1600/697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BAozVX4MI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/bKrT0Qud150/s320/697.JPG" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;~Sometimes love finds you where you least expect it to.&amp;nbsp;This love found me at&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;Tumwater&lt;/span&gt; Falls in Washington.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~That fishy smell? Just means that spring is in the air!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BB4Osn-mI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6x97H4XUlKs/s1600/676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BB4Osn-mI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6x97H4XUlKs/s320/676.JPG" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Crabs really aren’t as mean as they are made out to be. All the ones I ran into were really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;strike&gt;Give yourself some credit&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;Give yourself a lot of credit. You may be terrified of&amp;nbsp;something, but you will be surprised that its not so bad and you handled it a lot better than you thought you would. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BCsbPFFbI/AAAAAAAAAIg/URymdA4FUms/s1600/650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BCsbPFFbI/AAAAAAAAAIg/URymdA4FUms/s320/650.JPG" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;~I am SO &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;badass&lt;/span&gt; now with my new tattoo.&amp;nbsp;Like I said, you can surprise yourself with just how strong you are cause let me tell you, getting a lot of tiny little needles poked into my wrist bone was no walk in the park. But I didn’t shed a tear and I look like a rock star now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~There are cute boys EVERYWHERE. Cute boys in uniform, making your coffee, behind the bar.&amp;nbsp;And the funny thing is you don’t even have to look for them. They happen to find you. So stop searching cause you may miss out on all the beautiful scenery. What’s the saying? It’s the journey not the destination? &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~The I-5 will get you anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;~Don’t be afraid to be so goofy. You may be cheering up someone’s day, bringing a little humor to a long work week, or just making yourself happy. Plus you get a great ab workout with all the laughter. It’s a win-win situation (THIS is the situation!-sorry had to insert a little Jersey Shore humor there!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~He’s Just Not That Into You. And The Ugly Truth is that the old adage that nice guys finish last is SO true. Cause Gerald Butler won. OH and try not to relate your life to movies. You have no one writing a script for you so things aren't going to be tied up in a pretty little bow at the end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Above all, I’m an amazing person. I'm beautiful, smart, funny, honest,&amp;nbsp;I watch &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: #ffffff;"&gt;Sportscenter&lt;/span&gt; voluntarily, I know how to shake my ass on the dance floor, I can hang with the girls and hold my own with the boys, I like to be clean but I can get dirty, I'm an amazing mom, wonderful sister, and loyal friend. If someone can't see that about me, then they don't deserve my time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-8715828421842801380?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/8715828421842801380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=8715828421842801380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8715828421842801380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/8715828421842801380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-i-have-learned.html' title='What I have learned'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S9BAozVX4MI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/bKrT0Qud150/s72-c/697.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-534005380618229774</id><published>2010-04-13T06:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T06:35:53.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future plans</title><content type='html'>We all make them. We all think about the things we want to do. I have a ton of things that I always want to do but thanks to everyday life, it is sometimes hard to achieve them. So in thinking about all the things I want to do with my life, and simply because I leave for vacation tomorrow and can't find the mind energy to think up something deep and insightful, I am making yet another list for y'all to enjoy. Todays topic: What Courtney wants to do with her life (prepare yourself, this may be a long one!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S8RzKuMdYUI/AAAAAAAAAII/D-EG_70i__w/s1600/rock-climbing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S8RzKuMdYUI/AAAAAAAAAII/D-EG_70i__w/s320/rock-climbing.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do an actual rock climb. I have done indoor rock climbing and by putting myself back into my childhood monkey frame of mind, found it pretty fun. I would like to someday take my skills outdoor and climb an actual rock. Maybe even rock it hard enough to climb like El Capitan. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I know a lot of people say it, but I want to skydive. Tandemly of course, but at least once I want to feel the rush of a near death experience. And I say tandemly because it would literally take my instructor to push me out of the plane with them for me to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~More tattoos. I only have one and it is so tiny now that it literally looks like a huge mole on my back. I want to get that covered up, I want to find a really meaningful saying or quote to put on my wrist, and a few others that I wont bore you with. I am really so bad ass, that I need the tats to prove it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Become an RN. Then specialize in surgery. The human body fascinates me beyond belief. I would love to have the oppurtunity to be in the room and actually see inside one everyday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Travel. I love to travel. Even just the journey of boarding the plane is fun to me. I like to get away, see new places, visit all the friends that I have scattered around the US, and someday when the bank account allows me to I would love to go somewhere overseas. Italy, France, Ireland. I'm not too picky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Drive a sportscar. Really fast. Really really really fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Be an awesome mom. This goes without saying but I knew if I didn't put this on here many would get the wrong idea about me. I want to find that perfect balance of being a parent and being a friend. I want my boys to have an open and honest relationship with me, but still fear me enough to where they actually listen. And when I do figure that out, I will write a book about it. I will make millions. haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Learn to not be so afraid. I am kinda fearless, not a much as others. But I want to learn to not be so afraid to get my heart broken, love someone with my full heart, not be scared of little garter snakes, afraid that someone will think bad of me or not like me. I don't want to be so afraid of hurting someones feelings that I put my own happiness behind me. And I don't want to be so afraid of failing that I am scared to even try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Laugh, laugh, laugh. As Ghandi once said "If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.". Very true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-534005380618229774?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/534005380618229774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=534005380618229774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/534005380618229774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/534005380618229774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/future-plans.html' title='Future plans'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/S8RzKuMdYUI/AAAAAAAAAII/D-EG_70i__w/s72-c/rock-climbing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-7133060113869305385</id><published>2010-04-12T05:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T05:09:38.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Human contact</title><content type='html'>Isn't it funny some of the things you miss sometimes? Going through a divorce, you tend to think your going to miss the big ticket items when you try to glance into the future. Things like double incomes, growing old together, you know the big things. Although I can't say that I am not going to miss that, its the really little things I am missing right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to focus a lot lately on the little things. You know all the little things that fill your life and make you complete. But because its human nature, I can't help but notice that there is one HUGE little thing missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Human contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the hugs. That little rub on your back. Kisses goodbye. Kisses hello. That lingering moment when you hug.&amp;nbsp;Stolen moments, public displays of&amp;nbsp;affection.&amp;nbsp;And even though I am a known non-cuddiler, I miss even having the oppurtunity to cuddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gotten used to the idea of being alone. I actually embrace it because its in those moments when I can paint my toenails, watch whatever I want to, and do the other crazy things that you would never do in the presence of company. But its those few moments when your laying in bed watching some stupid girl movie that you wish you could roll over and give someone a smooch and embrace tightly. And then thats when it hits you that you are physically alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can work hard to make the money and buy the things that you really want. But as the Beatles so wisely quoted...money can't buy me love. I know that in time things will come to me. I know that I have to be patient and good things will come my way. I have faith that someday I will have it all back. It will all happen, in time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-7133060113869305385?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/7133060113869305385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=7133060113869305385' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7133060113869305385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/7133060113869305385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/human-contact.html' title='Human contact'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-1288042830828417758</id><published>2010-04-09T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T05:21:52.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The little things</title><content type='html'>My mind is elsewhere today. You know how you go into vacation mode days before you actually leave? haha. So today I thought I would make a little list. We are always claiming how we are (or should be) thankful for all the little things in life. Well here are a few of the little things I am thankful for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Solid poop. The plague has finally (knock on wood) lifted from our house and although I myself managed to escape THAT funness of the sickness we all had, the boys did not. And just who gets to clean that crap up? Yeah, not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Although it wasn't fun by any means (nor an ideal or safe kinda diet), I am thankful that severe vomitting for a few days has knocked me down a jeans size and I have an actual reason to go shopping this weekend. Seriously, things are falling off of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Warm weather. Flowers blooming. It not getting dark at 5 o'clock in the evening. And the boys being able to run around outside till their too exhausted to even make it through bath time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Thursday night 20 cent boneless wings at Buffalo Wild Wings (so rightfully dubbed Bdubs by me). Finally getting to eat an actual meal and it be honey bbq boneless wings and some potatoe wedges? Priceless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Bubbles. Give the boys some bubbles to blow and they are entertained for awhile. The huge smiles and endless giggles that follow? An added bonus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Clearance items at discount stores. Cute little&amp;nbsp;clutch at TJ Maxx already below retail price. Marked down for clearance, even better. And now its mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Coffee, Red Bull, and any other means of temporary energy that I have tried in the past. Its nice to know that the option is even available for me and I am not damned to an eternal state of sleepiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Handbags. Now we could argue about the amount of money spent on handbags through my lifetime and how that makes it nothing little by anymeans. But the happiness that my pink leather Coach bag (bought at a VERY low price I might add) brings to me speaks volumes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~I would love&amp;nbsp;to add friends and family to the list, but they are not little by any means so they can't make this list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a ton of&amp;nbsp;other little things I am thankful for like girls scout cookies and spanx underwear, but I am sure you have to be getting back to work or on with your day by now. Have a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-1288042830828417758?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/1288042830828417758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=1288042830828417758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1288042830828417758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/1288042830828417758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/little-things.html' title='The little things'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496849550734450425.post-3359133770306156117</id><published>2010-04-08T04:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T04:47:57.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lovely Leo</title><content type='html'>Are you one of the people that reads your horoscope daily? Or even weekly? Well I have to admit, I do read mine. But I never believe it. The only time here recently that I have believed it is when it said to not let miles stand in the way of seeing someone I love and to book the tickets. Truth be told, I had already gotten the tickets so there wasn't TOO much truth to it but pretty close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a Leo. Just like Madonna, Bill Clinton, and Slash. I like to be the center of attention, all eyes on me. I don't mind when people notice me, the spotlight does not scare me at all. But just because I am that way does not make me as confident as my horoscope makes me out to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forever reading about how people listen to me all the time cause I am a take charge kinda person. Well yeah I try to take charge but I am not so sure about the people listening to me. I can't even get my boys to listen to me and they are 3 1/2 and 2! Like I could get an adult to listen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it just funny how we want so much to believe our horoscopes? Life would be so grand if all that "they" claimed were true. I wish I was this strong, confident, lovely leo that they want me to be. But life has gotten in the way. I've suffered broken hearts, broken bones, bruised shins, and even a bruised ego at times. Life experiences cause you to think and feel differently and the older you get, the harder it is. But I still do believe that I am lovely, no matter what my sun sign says!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3496849550734450425-3359133770306156117?l=courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/feeds/3359133770306156117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3496849550734450425&amp;postID=3359133770306156117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3359133770306156117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3496849550734450425/posts/default/3359133770306156117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://courtneysbabbiling.blogspot.com/2010/04/lovely-leo.html' title='Lovely Leo'/><author><name>Courtney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13443504506327080503</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5wINCrCDoi0/SQKGf7aaeAI/AAAAAAAAACU/1rEtyVbSHXA/S220/court12redone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
