<?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-8374994467222724642</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:54:59.351-08:00</updated><category term='Welcome note'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Parenting Twins</title><subtitle type='html'>Laughing my way through raising twins plus one!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-7942094714540633863</id><published>2009-07-24T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T20:28:43.737-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok so its been awhile...</title><content type='html'>Alright its been more than a while since I have blogged here! LOL but don't hold that against me. It hasn't been long enough that the kids are in college yet, so cut me some slack!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we last left off with the twins being young little fellas. Well they are still young but have grown quite a bit. We have now entered into the joys of potty training, moving on from sippy cups and I am sure there is an artist in my house because I have crayon and marker on 4 different walls. (if it weren't for Magic Erasers I would be painting left and right!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The potty training adventure has been a ride that you want to jump off of like your hair was on fire! Isaac has gotten the idea down pretty well..now. At first I didn't think that kid would ever pee in the toilet. On the floor...in the bathtub... and out the back door yes! The toilet? Not so much. I will admit it has been harder for him because his twin (Joshua) is Autistic and is not learning with him. But for the love of mashed potatoes... this kid just did not want to use the potty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He now wants to be in the bathroom every chance he gets. We have gone through countless toothbrushes as he feels the need to clean the sink with them when he is supposed to be washing his hands. Our water bill has gone up as well given that he thinks you have to flush in between every bodily function and sometimes just for the fun of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We thought we would keep him in a diaper at night for those "just in case" moments where he might have an accident in his sleep. However, this plan has back fired more than once as we have woke up to him sleeping with his boxers on backwards or going commando with a diaper nowhere to be found (Fortunately he has lead us to the evidence after he wakes up or we would have bigger problems LOL).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at last... the moment has come that we can say he is potty trained. It is perfect timing too! Joshua has decided that he has some interest in this whole potty business. Just the other morning he felt the urge, stripped his diaper off and peed on the damn floor! My love of a steam cleaner gets stronger everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time and the next laugh~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-7942094714540633863?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/7942094714540633863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=7942094714540633863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7942094714540633863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7942094714540633863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2009/07/ok-so-its-been-awhile.html' title='Ok so its been awhile...'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-9114351194296150964</id><published>2007-11-01T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T23:13:22.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 7</title><content type='html'>Attack of the "Mood Swings"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so maybe I have been a little moody..No wait... emotional..no...alright damn it I'm at the end of pregnancy what do you expect happy go lucky Martha Stewart? LOL For the sake of this chapter of Operation Twin pregnancy ...we’ll just call me Expressive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This far along in a twin pregnancy, I think I have earned the right to bitch and complain about things that bother me. For example a friend of mine called to see how I was doing. I figured I would give her the short and sweet version. "Not too bad. Morning sickness sucks, and my feet are swollen. I’m hanging in there though." (Here’s where the mood swings come in) She had the nerve to say to me, "Oh God you’re gonna start complaining aren’t you? It can’t be that bad."&lt;br /&gt;"Can’t be that bad?"Are you kidding me? And then it happened... I felt as though I had no control over my mouth. It was almost like an out of body experience (which wasn’t that bad cause I couldn’t feel the water balloon that I called feet throbbing if only for a minute). I gave a sinister chuckle, and was going to leave it at that. When all of the sudden it felt like someone had taken the jaws of life, pried my mouth back open and a flash flood of hormones took full control over my body! And this is what I said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well excuse me" Ms. I don’t have any children." Until you have taken your once athletic body and turned it into an amusement park for two little babies, that think it is a thrilling adventure turning your internal organs into their own personal trampoline, get heartburn at the very thought of a glass of water, heartburn so bad that the fire department would declare a flare up, and have your feet swell to the point that your older child calls them water balloons and wants to paint them pretty colors...SHUT UP! You are more than welcome to come over and I can attempt to make you so uncomfortable that you would never want to be pregnant and then you can "try’ to tell me that its not that bad. Honey by the time I am done with you... you won't even want a puppy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, she didn’t want to have lunch with me. Bummer. But see it doesn’t even take someone to say anything to flip my mood with the speed of a stock car. The littlest things could set me off. For example, in about 5 minutes time, I had several events that under normal circumstances would bother anybody. I, however, did not have "normal circumstances". Without being pregnant with twins, I am hardly what you say normal. Throw in 2 times the hormones and LOOK OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the events....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While brushing my teeth, I squeezed the toothpaste a little harder than what I should have. It was just enough to send it shooting across the mirror. I dropped my deodorant in the sink which cracked the lid, and I knocked over a full bottle of shampoo which nicely coated my bathroom floor. Oh and did I mention this all happened within 5 minutes of each other. I did? Just making sure you were paying attention. Have you ever seen a woman pregnant with twins try to kneel down to clean up shampoo off the floor? Of course not, because it is not possible. I had to flop my butt onto the floor, without landing in the puddle of strawberry scented hell and clean it up best as possible. I did the best I could given the circumstances, however, dripping water onto the floor for the next few days would bring about these mysterious bubbles. "I have NO idea where they came from!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This ordeal of course sent me into a crying freenzy and all that it really accomplished was making me have to go pee again for the 20th time. Oh well, the bathroom smells nice. Nice enough to give me heartburn!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-9114351194296150964?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/9114351194296150964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=9114351194296150964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/9114351194296150964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/9114351194296150964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/11/attack-of-mood-swings-ok-so-maybe-i.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 7'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-7936525464809509782</id><published>2007-11-01T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T20:26:55.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 6</title><content type='html'>Some people can't control their bladder while they are pregnant...ME...I can't control my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes...It has finally happened... I am no longer showing any sympathy for fellow pregnant women, or anyone else for that matter. For example...walking trough Babies R Us, two girls that were both pregnant (and about 19) walked up to me to very bluntly state that I was the "biggest pregnant woman" they had ever seen. OK first of all...if anyone knows that I am big...ITS ME!! I mean come on, I haven't been able to reach my ankles for so long that I now look like one of the Clydesdale horse from the Budweiser commercials. (who by the way have changed their mind about letting me pull the wagon for their Christmas commercials because they don't have a harness big enough for me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, back to the little brats from the store.After their insult, I kind of grinned and said I was having twins. They both began to ask me about labor and what to expect...this is where I lost control of my mouth...I couldn't help it. When they both asked me if labor hurt...I gave an evil laugh...damn near yelled "hell yeah it hurts!" and ended my sinister plot by telling them that since it was their first pregnancy, the hospitals for reasons of liability,wouldn't allow them to have pain &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;. Both of their jaws hit the floor, I smiled gave them a half ass"Good Luck" and walked away. (oh did I mention that I didn't feel the least bit guilty.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also hit the point in my pregnancy that I have lost sympathy for everyone else that complains of pains or pregnancy symptoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example..at the store buying yet another supply of what I affectionately call "Puke Pills" (aka: Rolaids)the cashier says, "oh do you still have morning sickness?" I told her that I did, in which she said,"Oh I had it until I was 10 weeks." Again I smiled and thought to myself, "is this chick for real?" I am obviously further along than 10 weeks and your comment is supposed to make me feel better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEWSFLASH! I don't care that you had morning sickness for 10 weeks or at all for that matter! I am 34 weeks along as of today, I puke daily and I have an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-natural fear of the toilet because of it. I have now mastered the art of puking with my eyes closed.Sure I gave myself a massive goose egg on my head from the toilet once or twice, but that's nothing compared to the first few times I tried to pee with my eyes closed. The first time I almost peed in the bath tub,I cracked my trash can, and bruised my ass on the counter, but I think I have the hang of it now.Oh well until I find my next victim....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-7936525464809509782?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/7936525464809509782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=7936525464809509782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7936525464809509782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7936525464809509782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/11/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-6.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 6'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-653687762462325509</id><published>2007-10-29T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T09:20:29.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 5</title><content type='html'>I wake up on the couch gasping for air... Great..my nose is now so plugged up I can't catch my breath not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;to mention&lt;/span&gt; I think the fires of hell are cold &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;in comparison&lt;/span&gt; to me. Brilliant idea...lets take my temp. Lucky for me the thermometer is on the coffee table. I place the dumb thing under my tongue and wait..andwait...and wait...why the hell isn't it beeping? OK genius...turn it on....and wait and wait and wait...it still isn't beeping...whatever...but its been under my tongue for damn near 5 minutes and it says I'm normal..(OK at least my temp is)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have now accepted the fact that I am having hot flashes, now its time to find something to blow my nose with. Off to the bathroom I go...eyes watering, oxygen levels dropping....one more step...must makeit...fading...getting dark... PHEW!! made it...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;that was&lt;/span&gt; the longest 5 steps... Now for relief...I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;grab enough&lt;/span&gt; toilet paper to turn my dog into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;a mummy&lt;/span&gt;...ready!!! set!!! blow....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;OOOWWWW&lt;/span&gt;! My ears &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;feel like&lt;/span&gt; they have exploded, my eyes bugged out of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;head and&lt;/span&gt; about the only thing that happened is my bellybutton popped out as if to say BING!! Turkeys done!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for a mom remedy... back to the kitchen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I go&lt;/span&gt;...washcloth in hand...ready to boil some water...under normal circumstances this would be easy...HA! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;I get&lt;/span&gt; the water in the pan, turn on the stove and wait.In the meantime I wet the wash cloth to hold over &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;myface&lt;/span&gt; to start the process. Now my dumb dog sees me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;as a&lt;/span&gt; threat on the house, like I am some sort of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;masked bandit&lt;/span&gt;. She comes charging at me like a bat out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;of hell&lt;/span&gt;, so what do I do.... I swing my pregnant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;butt around&lt;/span&gt; and block her attack. Nimrod has now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;realized who&lt;/span&gt; she is dealing with and is panic stricken... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Given that&lt;/span&gt; I don't have chloroform on hand to knock &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;her out&lt;/span&gt;...I try and coax her into a shot of Crown Royal(god knows I could use one right about now). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;She didn't&lt;/span&gt; take the shot but I think she sniffed it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;enough to&lt;/span&gt; give her a buzz cause she laid right down. Back &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;to the&lt;/span&gt; steam.. I again try to blow my nose...BING! outgoes the belly button and that's it. To hell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;with blowing&lt;/span&gt; my nose. I have come to terms with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;fact that&lt;/span&gt; while I am sick breathing is going to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;even more&lt;/span&gt; difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its off to my ultrasound. Now as if breathing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;wasn't hard&lt;/span&gt; enough without being sick, I now get to lay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;flat on&lt;/span&gt; my back for the next hour while this happy go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;lucky tech&lt;/span&gt; pushes on my tummy. Good news...both babies &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;are great&lt;/span&gt;...bad news..both babies are breech. Now I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;see why&lt;/span&gt; breathing is so difficult...I have both of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;their heads&lt;/span&gt; stuck in my lungs... but I think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;the conspiracy&lt;/span&gt; goes further...they have turned around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;to grab&lt;/span&gt; onto &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;my ribs&lt;/span&gt; so that I can't cough them out. Which &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;also explains&lt;/span&gt; why every time I cough I get this huge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;bump and&lt;/span&gt; sharp pain in my ribs...i now think I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;bruised ribs&lt;/span&gt; on my right side (isn't pregnancy fun!)I make it back home..the thought of food makes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;me sick&lt;/span&gt;..I have coughed so much I can't tell if I have topee or if I pulled a muscle..I have a frog in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;my throat&lt;/span&gt;...a marble in one side of my nose a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;propeller in&lt;/span&gt; the other and the dog is still passed out drunk...I think it is time for me to sniff some Vic ks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;and pass&lt;/span&gt; out....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time...BING!!!! have some turkey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Disclaimer** The dog is not a drunk. She actually prefers smelling other dogs butts rather than sniffing Crown Royal. This is meant to be funny and not to be taken as an incentive to send me information of the doggy version of AA. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-653687762462325509?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/653687762462325509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=653687762462325509&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/653687762462325509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/653687762462325509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-5.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 5'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-1467253401960833504</id><published>2007-10-29T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T09:13:57.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 4</title><content type='html'>Being sick while pregnant in itself is not cool. Being sick while pregnant with twins should be considered cruel and unusual &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;punishment&lt;/span&gt;! Lets start the chain of events that has come &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;along with&lt;/span&gt; this cold..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take you back..2 weeks ago.. 4am I wake &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;up feeling&lt;/span&gt; like I am on fire. I start the process &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;of getting&lt;/span&gt; out of bed. (I strap the chain around my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;waist and&lt;/span&gt; find the control for the wench.) I am now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hanging half&lt;/span&gt; way off of the bed trying to convince the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cramp in&lt;/span&gt; my leg to give in long enough for me to make it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;to the&lt;/span&gt; kitchen. To hell with it..I am now dragging my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;leg behind&lt;/span&gt; me as I bounce off of the walls in the hallway.In the meantime it feels as though someone has my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;head in&lt;/span&gt; the oven while squeezing it in a vice. You know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;the feeling&lt;/span&gt;..with every step you take it feels as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;though the&lt;/span&gt; corresponding eyeball is going to pop out and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;land on&lt;/span&gt; the floor in front of you. (in my case this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;would be&lt;/span&gt; very hazardous as I can't see what is in front &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;of me&lt;/span&gt; on the floor. Just my luck ... I would step on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;my eyeball&lt;/span&gt; too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have now made it to the kitchen, in search of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;any type&lt;/span&gt; of cold &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; that I can safely take. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ChaChing&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;I have&lt;/span&gt; Robitussin. I grab the cough syrup and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;the Spider&lt;/span&gt; man vitamins...(I know better late than never,but I can't take prenatal vitamins anyways and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;those chew&lt;/span&gt;able ones aren't that bad) I also grab the teabags and honey. All the while the dog is looking at meas though I have lost my mind...all I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;think is&lt;/span&gt;...well DUH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are now watery and I feel a sneeze coming on,but I continue on my path of "medicating." I grab &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;a coffee&lt;/span&gt; cup to heat up some water..add the teabag...blah blah blah. Judging by the heat of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;the cup&lt;/span&gt;..I think I'll take the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; before a sip of tea.I start with the vitamin. Now it never fails...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;I sneeze&lt;/span&gt;. The dog and I both are now scrambling to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;get to&lt;/span&gt; the vitamin first which has been hurled out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;my mouth&lt;/span&gt; with the force of a stinger missile. Damn..&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;the dog&lt;/span&gt; won and I am now stuck under the kitchen table.After some strategic moves...ah hell I'll &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;be honest&lt;/span&gt;...I flop around enough to be top side again &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;and used&lt;/span&gt; the chair as a crutch to get up... I figure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;I'll take&lt;/span&gt; the cough syrup now to give me time to re &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;coop from&lt;/span&gt; the first vitamin experience.. Prepared to gag, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;I take&lt;/span&gt; the cough syrup as quick as possible. To &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;my surprise&lt;/span&gt;..its not that bad.. a little sweet actually.Now the vitamin..the dog is in alert mode waiting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;for another&lt;/span&gt; vitamin mishap, so I figure this has to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;happen quick&lt;/span&gt;. I quickly pop the vitamin in my mouth..&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;which would&lt;/span&gt; have worked fine except my dumb ass used &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;too much&lt;/span&gt; force and it is now lodged in my throat. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Quick thinking&lt;/span&gt;, I grab for the tea..take a chug and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;suddenly realize&lt;/span&gt; that the "great tasting cough syrup" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;was actually&lt;/span&gt; the honey and I put the damn Robitussin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;in my&lt;/span&gt; tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now in a gaging frenzy..Lassie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;the wonder&lt;/span&gt; mutt is freaking out in which she jumps up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;on my&lt;/span&gt; belly...my eyes are really watering now...I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;am still&lt;/span&gt; gaging..oh no...oh boy here it comes... OOPS..&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;I have&lt;/span&gt; now puked on the dog who is now whining on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;the floor&lt;/span&gt; as if she were on fire.. Serves her right.Now because of all of the coughing, I have to pee (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;or maybe&lt;/span&gt; I already did?) the dog is still freaking out. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;I am&lt;/span&gt; now dragging the dog to the bathroom with me. As &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;I am&lt;/span&gt; peeing I coax the dog into the shower..quick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;rinse and&lt;/span&gt; its back to the kitchen. I restart the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;whole medicine&lt;/span&gt; process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I make it to the couch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;where I&lt;/span&gt; watch late night commercials about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;fitness freaks&lt;/span&gt;..LIKE I WANT TO SEE THAT RIGHT NOW....maybe I'll sleep a little....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-1467253401960833504?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/1467253401960833504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=1467253401960833504&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/1467253401960833504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/1467253401960833504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-4.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 4'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-6679840389408731322</id><published>2007-10-26T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T19:39:35.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 3</title><content type='html'>At this point in my pregnancy I can require a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;little bit&lt;/span&gt; of assistance. This has become a game to those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;who live&lt;/span&gt; with me, take for example...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was walking down the hallway, when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I suddenly&lt;/span&gt; had this cramp that went surging through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;my foot&lt;/span&gt; sending my toes in a due north position. This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;of course&lt;/span&gt; sent me semi hopping on one foot while &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;trying to&lt;/span&gt; use my arm to balance myself and my other hand &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;to reach&lt;/span&gt; my foot (yea right). My dear love David walks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;by and&lt;/span&gt; says,"Whats the matter babe? Cramp in your foot?"All I can muster is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;itty&lt;/span&gt; bitty groans of pure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;agony and&lt;/span&gt; the look of "DUH." What I really wanted to say is,"No jackass, I'm practicing my air guitar so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;can enter&lt;/span&gt; the local contest.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a minute of hyperventilating, and thoughts &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;of beating&lt;/span&gt; the man I love, he got the idea and said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;he would&lt;/span&gt; help rub the cramp out of my foot. (I thought,wow, what a guy!) That was until he busted out with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;my favorite&lt;/span&gt; lotion, which he made a point of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;literally dripping&lt;/span&gt; on my foot...one freezing cold drop at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;a time&lt;/span&gt;. Now this is a man that has just taken his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;life into&lt;/span&gt; his own hands...IF I COULD ONLY REACH MY &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;DAMN FEET&lt;/span&gt;!!! A task in which he knows I am hardly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;capable of&lt;/span&gt;, in which he thinks is the funniest thing he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;has ever&lt;/span&gt; seen. (Proven by his laughing so hard he's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;damn near&lt;/span&gt; crying)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 4 year old has also jumped in on the fun. If I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;say I&lt;/span&gt; have to go to the bathroom...Tyler jumps up a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;runs to&lt;/span&gt; bathroom and back at least 2 times to point out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;how slow&lt;/span&gt; I am. Once I finally make it to the bathroom, I h&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;ave&lt;/span&gt; two little sets of hands on the inside that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;latch onto&lt;/span&gt; my bladder to give the kink in the hose affect. Remember how kids are with water balloons? Squeeze &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;it from&lt;/span&gt; side to side to make one side big, the other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;side small&lt;/span&gt;? (ya get the idea) So now I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;sporadically peeing&lt;/span&gt; (which is more than irritating) when Tyler &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;has decided&lt;/span&gt; to help me out by hurling himself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;into bathroom&lt;/span&gt; door, which scares me half to death, and has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;now scared&lt;/span&gt; the twins in which case they have clamped &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;on tight&lt;/span&gt; and stopped the flow completely. (Makes ya &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;want to&lt;/span&gt; have more kids huh) So I threaten Tyler with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;an inch&lt;/span&gt; of his life, waddle my butt out of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;bathroom in&lt;/span&gt; search of the little terrorist who is now hiding &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;in place&lt;/span&gt; he knows I can't reach....under my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm tough...I'm going in...I can at least &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;grab his&lt;/span&gt; leg and pull him out..(HA HA)I am now stuck on the floor, David is not home, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;the phone&lt;/span&gt; is too far away, and Tyler is laughing at me.Remember the commercials..."I've fallen and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;can't get&lt;/span&gt; up?" Can we say that would be me, however, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;those little&lt;/span&gt; buttons around the old peoples neck &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;that connect&lt;/span&gt; to 911 wouldn't work for me...No NO for me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;it would&lt;/span&gt; connect directly to Green Peace to report a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;beached&lt;/span&gt; whale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last, I hear the door, its DAVID!!! I'm free.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;or so&lt;/span&gt; I thought. As I am bellowing "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;BBBAABBBEEEE&lt;/span&gt;!" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;from the&lt;/span&gt; bedroom...I hear a laugh and him say..are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;you stuck&lt;/span&gt; on the floor again? (All I can think is keep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;it up&lt;/span&gt; smart ass) Now me being me, I figured he would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;come in&lt;/span&gt; and help me up and all will be well with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;back again&lt;/span&gt;. Instead I am greeted with him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;laughing hysterically&lt;/span&gt;, followed by him laying down on the floor"out of sympathy". Twenty minutes have passed and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;my dear&lt;/span&gt; love ones have decided to release me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;from torture&lt;/span&gt;. I am now standing again in which I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;boldly state&lt;/span&gt; that "I am fine, never better".....But what I am really thinking is, "I won't be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;pregnant forever&lt;/span&gt; ya little butt monkeys...and then its on.... I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;CAN&lt;/span&gt; CALMLY WAIT...ITS ONLY A MATTER OF..TIME....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-6679840389408731322?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/6679840389408731322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=6679840389408731322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/6679840389408731322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/6679840389408731322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-3.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 3'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-4094594767659525955</id><published>2007-10-26T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T17:47:04.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 2</title><content type='html'>Being pregnant with twins has taught me a few things about pregnancy and the general public. Through jaw dropping stares and more fat comments I care to admit to, there is one thing I have learned above all....Have Fun With It!!And thus..the games begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when I was growing up, I was taught, "It's not polite to stare." Apparently...I'm the only one who listened. I love it when I get the stare of pure terror from skinny teenage girls. You know the look...deer in the headlights meets The Exorcists. That's right ladies..my body has been taken over by demonic possession!! And its contagious too...watch it...at any given moment my head may spin around and tiny little hands may pop out of my belly!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stares you get from adults are just as bad. Walking through the store I actually had someone go aconsiderable distance away from me while his eyes were fixed on my belly. For a moment I thought I had on my shirt that read "WARNING: this woman may spontaneously com-bust before your very eyes and take you to the flaming gates of hell right along with her!!" Then Iremembered that I was still wearing the "I'm with stupid shirt". Given that I was by myself I can see how that could have been an interesting sight, so to make it look even better, I began talking to myself and attempted to skip about the store in search of the"little people."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: skipping + twins = 7.0earthquake. (hopefully the people at Safeway will forget me by the time the twins graduate high school.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on from evil stares....lets talk about prenatal visits. With my medical plan, each time I go to my appointments I have to give a urine sample to check for elevated protein levels. Now at the start of this pregnancy, that was not a problem. I am now 7 months pregnant with twins and have not seen my toes without the assistance of others for the past two months. This "urine sample business" is getting to be more than a sick joke. I don't think I can handle much more of this. I mean come on, they give me a urine cup the size of a shot glass and expect me to fill 'er up...how in the hell am I supposed to do this? I can't see what I'm aiming for!!! There is a reason they don't give gun permits to blind people... its the same reason I haven't filled one of these cups in 2months....WE CAN'T SEE THE TARGET! (maybe if I set the cup on the floor...nah..it would probably move around too much.)If that nurse keeps laughing at me when I walk out of the bathroom, I just might have to show her how funnyI can be. Oh well until next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-4094594767659525955?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/4094594767659525955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=4094594767659525955&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/4094594767659525955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/4094594767659525955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-2.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy Mission 2'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-6451653444848483996</id><published>2007-10-26T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T17:29:31.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Twin Pregnancy, Mission 1</title><content type='html'>I noticed when I was pregnant that maternity clothes looked a lot better on the rack or on someone else than they did one me. A beached whale in a thong, looked better than I did in maternity clothes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean come on! Who in the hell decided to make maternity clothes so damn ugly!!! Good God, its bad enough that chronic heartburn is a"natural" (more like supernatural) part of the beauty that is pregnancy...then you get the genius designers that make clothes that look like heartburn. Then of course they show all the cute clothes on the smallest models with what we all know is a FAKE TUMMY, either that or she got impregnated by the mighty midget at the circus. Damn skinny people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The comes the choice of color in which I have made a simple break down of what each color really makes you look like (and mind you the designers are sitting back and laughing about as I type...we all know its true)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White - Stay Puffed Marsh mellow Man. You all remember him right...the giant walking destructive marsh mellow from Ghostbusters. Tell me this isn't true...huge clumsy and dressed in white. (Some people have a sick sense of humor and for this we thank the lovely people at Motherhood Maternity)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Purple - You guessed it throw some purple on a woman pregnant with twins and you've got our toddlers favorite torture device "BARNEY" How cruel is&lt;/span&gt; that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Yellow - Yellow maternity shirts paired with black pants.... Allow me to add a wide load sticker to my butt and I could walk slow enough down the freeway to guide the semi hauling a double wide (bet ya could still see my butt around it too).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about the colors now for my favorite TRENDY maternity item... The No Belly Shirts and Pants (or at least that's what I called them) . You know the ones that have your huge pregnant belly hanging out for the world to see? Who in there right mind would want to wear this crap? I mean come on, stretch marks screaming in the wind that look like someone added racing stripes to the ever growing blob that once was a flat tummy. HA! I think not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least.. the prices!! Its highway robbery! I've seen throw rugs that looked better and cost less. Maybe that's what I could do...fashion a rug into clothes...they are available in funky floral prints too. Oh well I have gone on long enough. I have now decided to go to the Halloween Superstore to do my maternity shopping. Hey its the only place to fit in...I did see a cow costume for which my tummy would fill out so perfectly (and it has udders!!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-6451653444848483996?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/6451653444848483996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=6451653444848483996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/6451653444848483996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/6451653444848483996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/operation-twin-pregnancy-mission-1.html' title='Operation Twin Pregnancy, Mission 1'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-4201487047114109804</id><published>2007-10-26T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T17:20:34.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets speed things up a bit</title><content type='html'>I found out I was having twins half way through my pregnancy. I was immediately taken off of work and was limited as to what I was allowed to day. This didn't sound so bad. Anything was better than having morning sickness attacks on the way to work, on breaks at work, on the sales floor at work, on the way home....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; you get the point. I was sick and not liking it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first week wasn't so bad. I caught up on what I had missed for 3 years on General hospital. Laid around a lot, and was able to go to the bathroom without employees knocking on the door saying, "Are you sick again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then week two hit. I was bored out of my mind. It was then that began emailing my mother all the crazy things that went through my mind while being pregnant with twins. The torture, the agony, the water &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;retention&lt;/span&gt;. It was then that Operation Twin Pregnancy was born and I will now share that with you. Prepare to laugh and realize how crazy a pregnancy can really make you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-4201487047114109804?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/4201487047114109804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=4201487047114109804&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/4201487047114109804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/4201487047114109804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/lets-speed-things-up-bit.html' title='Lets speed things up a bit'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-1810766870012816256</id><published>2007-10-26T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T16:53:56.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnant?</title><content type='html'>My day had started like any other. I got up, went to work, got paid way too little, and came home. It was a Friday. David had plans to go out for the night and I didn't feel like it so I stayed home. Now I had been having an odd feeling for a few days that I couldn't put my finger on. What could it be? Then a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;light bulb&lt;/span&gt; went on in my head  that a rolling black out couldn't burn out. Could I be ...pregnant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited about five minutes after David left and jumped in the car to get a home pregnancy test. They only had the ones that have 2 tests in them (could the number 2 be a vision of things to come?) so I bought them and came home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't know how many of you have taken a home pregnancy test, but it should be a simple cut and dry process. Sit, pee on stick, and wait. Well when you are so nervous that you can barely keep your hand still, it's not as easy as it sounds. I managed to complete the task without too many "accidents" and wait for my results. Well my wait was about 5 seconds before the test showed the darkest pink line I had ever seen! Ironically at about the same time I took the test, it really seemed like my belly was growing by the second. But me being me, I had to take the second test..."just to be sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David took the news with a huge smile on his face, and thus.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The adventure begins!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-1810766870012816256?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/1810766870012816256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=1810766870012816256&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/1810766870012816256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/1810766870012816256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/pregnant.html' title='Pregnant?'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8374994467222724642.post-7736546960532604225</id><published>2007-10-26T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T16:25:26.379-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Welcome note'/><title type='text'>Welcome to my Adventures!</title><content type='html'>Welcome to my adventure that started the day I found out I was pregnant. Little did I know at the time, I was pregnant with twins! It has been a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;roller coaster&lt;/span&gt; of thrills ever since. My twins are almost two... which means I have changed almost 4 years worth of diapers in half the time and gone through enough milk that I should have just bought my own cow. I have had sleepless nights and hazy days... but the one thing that remains the same... I have lost my sanity and brain cells since becoming a mother! My oldest son is six and is a crack up in his own way. So join me for many laughs as I share my life, my adventure, as a mom to twins plus one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8374994467222724642-7736546960532604225?l=brinasboys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/feeds/7736546960532604225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8374994467222724642&amp;postID=7736546960532604225&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7736546960532604225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8374994467222724642/posts/default/7736546960532604225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brinasboys.blogspot.com/2007/10/welcome-to-my-adventures.html' title='Welcome to my Adventures!'/><author><name>Brina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11072322015627200417</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
