<?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-2658030208018372714</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:46:51.746-05:00</updated><category term='M-n-A'/><category term='stressed out'/><category term='Cash'/><category term='high-larious'/><category term='bliss'/><category term='Rosita'/><category term='God moments'/><category term='why?'/><category term='music'/><category term='getting fit'/><category term='fall'/><category term='The Kitties'/><category term='Hubby'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='new experiences'/><category term='gross'/><category term='kid logic'/><category term='kids'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>a complex existence...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-268822458489452871</id><published>2009-06-27T13:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T13:27:49.796-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>I'm defecting...</title><content type='html'>I've moved my blog...you can find me at&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://stefaniespruill.wordpress.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stefaniespruill.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come join me there! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-268822458489452871?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/268822458489452871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=268822458489452871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/268822458489452871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/268822458489452871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-defecting.html' title='I&apos;m defecting...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-2275173041196663037</id><published>2009-04-27T23:39:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T13:09:55.940-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kid logic'/><title type='text'>Apologies in advance...</title><content type='html'>For yet MORE M &amp; A stories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M &amp; A have never had a word for me, like "nanny" or "sitter."  T &amp; G call me their baby-sitter when they're explaining that their parents aren't home, but the little ones have never known what to call me to other people.  Other kids have said to them "This is my mommy/daddy" and M &amp; A usually say "This is my...um, my Stefanie!"  Yeah, it pretty much melts my heart every time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss told me the other day that the whole family was watching "Nanny 911" -- you know, the cable knock-off of "Supernanny" with British nannies who wear capes, funny hats, and ugly shoes.  M &amp; A's mom and dad asked them who their nanny was, and they responded that they didn't have a nanny.  Then they told them that I am their nanny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stefanie does NOT wear a cape!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, later on, M said "Stefanie is not mean to us like those nannies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their mom responded, "If you were naughty like those kids she would be!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were doing art projects today, and M was making his own connect-the-dot drawings, pretty much deciding what it was a picture of after he connected the dots. :)  After one drawing, he asked if I could draw Mount Everest on the page (and I was pretty impressed that he came up with that!).  I drew a generic-looking mountain behind his drawing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can draw the track on there too, if you want," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What track?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, the broken track on Everest.  From the yeti."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, he didn't want me to draw Mount Everest.  He wanted me to draw the roller coaster Expedition: Everest at Disney's Animal Kingdom.  Ha.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently his dots connected to form a yeti. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to wake A from her nap today (if I don't, she won't sleep at night).  I rubbed her back saying, "Time to wake up, little girl..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I couldn't find the 'bicicycle.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The 'bicicycle' -- you know, the Lego one.  The Lego 'bicicycle.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You couldn't find the Lego bicycle?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, the Leg-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then she finally woke up all the way.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you dream about looking for a bicycle?"  I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah," she said sheepishly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuteness. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-2275173041196663037?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/2275173041196663037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=2275173041196663037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2275173041196663037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2275173041196663037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/04/apology-in-advance.html' title='Apologies in advance...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-2672693095050276820</id><published>2009-04-16T22:40:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:53:35.382-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kid logic'/><title type='text'>Oh, the drama...</title><content type='html'>I think I mentioned that A wants to change clothes every. five. minutes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cute the first time.  It's a little annoying the second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third time?  Oh, man...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to get M and A out of the house to go to the Charlotte Nature Museum.  M was ready to go, but A was mad because she didn't approve of the outfit I had picked out for her (when she decided that she didn't like the outfit Daddy had picked).  She NEEDED to wear a dress.  Of course, she didn't tell me this until we were all the way downstairs (and their house is big -- going upstairs to their room is practically an expedition).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to be a nice nanny and went back upstairs to pick out a dress.  Unfortunately, all A wanted to wear was a little summery dress that was not appropriate for the chilly weather.  I found (what I thought to be) a good compromise by getting a long-sleeved t-shirt with dark pink pants and a little pale pink skirt to go over the pants.  Totally cute.  I do her hair and we get ready to head back downstairs.  Then the lower lip comes out.  "I need a dark pink shirt."  "Well, you don't have a dark pink shirt.  The shirt you have on is beautiful."  "No, I NEED a dark pink shirt." And so on and so forth until I laid down the law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A, you may not change your clothes again.  This is the outfit you are wearing today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, snap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lower lip gets stuck out even further.  Eyes tear up.  A's chest tightens up and she takes a few deep breaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need my pacie (pacifier)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(trying not to crack up at the drama) "No, pacies are only for bedtime.  It is not bedtime."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More deep breaths.  "I need chocolate milk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, geez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you may not have chocolate milk because we are getting ready to leave.  You may have chocolate milk when we get home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need Mama!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahaha...how does a two-year-old have such DRAMA?  I should add (lest I seem totally mean and heartless) that I let her wail (and wail she did!) for a minute or two, then I pulled her into my lap for a snuggle.  We sat there for a couple of minutes and then she started giggling over something.  All was forgiven and we headed downstairs to put some shoes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A turns three in a couple of weeks.  3 is the new 2, people.  YAY. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-2672693095050276820?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/2672693095050276820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=2672693095050276820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2672693095050276820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2672693095050276820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-drama.html' title='Oh, the drama...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-3168729072846766705</id><published>2009-04-14T22:31:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:54:55.719-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new experiences'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rosita'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cash'/><title type='text'>Interrupting the hiatus...</title><content type='html'>I'm such a sporadic blogger.  I seriously think about blogging at least a couple of times a day...then by the time I get home from work it escapes me and I put it off for another day...Plus with the layout I have picked out I can't blog from my iphone...darn it! :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life has been anything but dull, though.  Last month my sister Megan and her friend Cathryn flew down from Michigan to visit us for their spring break, and while they were here we took a little vacay to DISNEY WORLD!  We did all four parks -- Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Animal Kingdom, and Hollywood Studios -- in just four days.  Holy exhaustion.  But SO much fun.  Here's a few pics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMmaTi8HI/AAAAAAAAACw/52AOYGthMEs/s1600-h/100_1263.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMmaTi8HI/AAAAAAAAACw/52AOYGthMEs/s320/100_1263.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324746357215522930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMnER2PcI/AAAAAAAAADI/jiLYuhSfJsk/s1600-h/100_1387.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMnER2PcI/AAAAAAAAADI/jiLYuhSfJsk/s320/100_1387.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324746368482688450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMm-36x0I/AAAAAAAAADA/9QKZqKVuds8/s1600-h/IMG_0223.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMm-36x0I/AAAAAAAAADA/9QKZqKVuds8/s320/IMG_0223.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324746367031756610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMmtD8DAI/AAAAAAAAAC4/FytYLym1xag/s1600-h/100_1283.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMmtD8DAI/AAAAAAAAAC4/FytYLym1xag/s320/100_1283.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324746362250333186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had SO much fun.  Scott and I always said that we wanted to go to Disney before we had kids so we could do what WE wanted to do and then once we have kids take them and do the things THEY want to do.  As we were walking around the parks, Scott and I kept turning to each other saying "I can't wait until we have kids so we can bring them here one day!"  To see kiddos experiencing the magic of Disney was a big part of it being such a great trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been good...A was pretty upset she couldn't come to Disney with us.  I took Meg and Cathryn to say hi to them the day before we drove to Orlando, and A definitely tried to get in my car to come with us.  Soooo cute.  She got sad when we told her she couldn't go but then convinced her that her mom would miss her too much. :)  She is also in a stage where she likes to wear four or five outfits a day with at least one of them being a bathing suit.  M is quickly becoming all boy.  He's 4 1/2, so I know he hasn't been a toddler for awhile, but I'm still shocked at how grown up he is.  Last week was spring break for them, so I got some quality time with T and G too (they're usually in school while I'm there).  We went to the playground and played Play-Doh and listened to heavy metal SpongeBob music (don't ask!).  We had a pretty fun (and pretty un-exciting) week together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I'm typing this I have two pups leeched onto me.  Cash is in my lap and Rosie could not be laying closer to me if she tried.  I'll admit that I'm a little worried about when we have a baby.  These two are used to being the babies.  They are snuggly and needy most of the day.  Our friends &lt;a href="http://thesawhooks.blogspot.com"&gt;Jon and Rachel&lt;/a&gt; watched them while we were at Disney (thanks, guys!) and Rachel said that a lot of the time she had both dogs PLUS both of her kids (a toddler and an infant) on her lap all at the same time.  WHAT A TROOPER.  And what a glimpse into my future. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s.  We're not pregnant.  Yet.  Not officially trying.  But it will probably be soon.  Yikes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-3168729072846766705?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/3168729072846766705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=3168729072846766705' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3168729072846766705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3168729072846766705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/04/interrupting-hiatus.html' title='Interrupting the hiatus...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SeVMmaTi8HI/AAAAAAAAACw/52AOYGthMEs/s72-c/100_1263.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-7616836313447971432</id><published>2009-02-24T18:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:55:19.981-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gross'/><title type='text'>Hahahahaha...</title><content type='html'>Okay, so even though I'm not active at all on it, I'm a member of &lt;a href="http://twitter.com"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;, which is basically a place for short (140 characters or less) blogs.  A place full of Facebook status updates, if you will.  Much like Facebook, you have followers on Twitter, and people who follow you also.  When you follow someone, their "tweets" show up in your feed.  Even though I haven't tweeted in MONTHS, I still check in about once a day to see what people are talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the people I follow is &lt;a href="http://www.ingridmichaelson.com"&gt;Ingrid Michaelson&lt;/a&gt;...she is one of my absolute favorite singer/songwriters and a pretty witty person (her &lt;a href="http://ingridmichaelson.tumblr.com"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; is good for a laugh, too).  One of her tweets made me laugh out loud today, so I thought I'd share it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what does corn really do for you? i mean...if it comes out exactly the same, how could it possibly be benefiting me nutritionally?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHAHA...no other words necessary... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-7616836313447971432?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/7616836313447971432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=7616836313447971432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/7616836313447971432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/7616836313447971432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/02/hahahahaha.html' title='Hahahahaha...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-3531432632454490022</id><published>2009-02-11T16:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T16:22:35.185-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stressed out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kid logic'/><title type='text'>Whoa...</title><content type='html'>I told my boss today that we're thinking about starting to try to have a baby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That makes me freak a little bit, because it makes it real.  Ahhhhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, A looked at me today during lunch and asked "Dinkin' what I'm dinkin'?" (Dinkin'=Thinking, FYI).  Hahahaha...I love two year olds who memorize little catchphrases like that and then use them at inappropriate times.  Hahahaha...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-3531432632454490022?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/3531432632454490022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=3531432632454490022' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3531432632454490022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3531432632454490022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/02/whoa.html' title='Whoa...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-5621517615870252240</id><published>2009-02-10T20:48:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:55:53.278-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='why?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>Loss...</title><content type='html'>I should let you know first thing that this will be a fairly self-serving blog.  A blog without many anecdotes but more for putting thoughts on the record...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is breaking for people that I don't even know.  Through a friend of mine on Facebook (actually a college friend of one of my best high school friends...follow?) I learned of a little girl, &lt;a href="http://corapaige.com"&gt;Cora&lt;/a&gt;, who just passed away this weekend from neuroblastoma.  She was 11 months old, and they had no idea she was sick until just a few weeks before she passed.  I read through her parents' entire &lt;a href="http://themcclenahans.blogspot.com"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt;, which started when Cora was born and ended with her ending her short battle with cancer, and just sat there and cried over this tremendous grief that these parents were going through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about these parents so much for the past couple of days, today especially (the memorial service was this afternoon), wondering why God would allow something like this to happen and how they have managed to maintain such great faith through it all.  After Cora was admitted to the hospital, they blogged nearly daily with both prayer requests and praises for the day...in the midst of such suffering they still managed to see God moving in their lives.  They have clung to scripture, often posting meaningful verses, and have talked of the songs that have meant the most to them ("Mighty to Save" was one that was mentioned).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott and I are at the point where we're about ready to start a family, and this kind of stuff scares the crap out of me.  How do you handle things like this?  How do you keep going?  I know the "right" thing to say (God is always faithful, God will see you through anything, God is the ultimate Comforter and Healer) and I know that all of those things are TRUE (undeniably so), but I'm still amazed at the faithfulness and steadfastness of this family.  Even when you find yourself in a hole of despair, God is God, and He is always God, even when things seem terribly unjust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* Thanks for letting me vent.  I just needed to get some things out.  And if you could remember the McClenahans in your prayers, I'm sure they would appreciate it.  They've been cooped up in a hospital for awhile, so I'm sure now that the memorial service is over the feeling of loss may get worse before it gets better.  But they are trusting in the LORD, and He will be faithful to them always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now go hug your kids -- if you have them...I hugged M &amp; A a little tighter today... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-5621517615870252240?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/5621517615870252240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=5621517615870252240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/5621517615870252240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/5621517615870252240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/02/loss.html' title='Loss...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-8762203157159212830</id><published>2009-01-27T20:21:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:56:22.835-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stressed out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Kitties'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rosita'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cash'/><title type='text'>A new addition...</title><content type='html'>First of all, no, I'm NOT pregnant.  Just thought I would get that out of the way. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm sitting here typing this, I have this little 4 1/2 pound bundle of chihuahua joy snoozing on my lap with a full belly.  Yes, we got another dog.  For crying out loud.  Wanna see a picture???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SX-0YjJEeMI/AAAAAAAAAB8/S51g8F-QYZM/s1600-h/IMG_0102.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SX-0YjJEeMI/AAAAAAAAAB8/S51g8F-QYZM/s320/IMG_0102.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296150020654135490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cute, huh?  That little face was peering out to my husband through a glass at the pet store.  Really, how was he supposed to resist?  (I should mention that Scott and I HATE pet stores.  The whole idea of them.  We always swore we would only adopt from a shelter or from a rescue group.  Ha.  That worked out well.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a date day on Friday...we went to see a matinee of Frost/Nixon (amazing - even though we were the youngest people there by a couple of decades) and got some delicious Italian food at Anzi's at Stonecrest (where I got eggplant in lieu of pasta to try to stick with my diet).  After that we didn't have any plans, but we weren't really ready to head back home, so we decided to drive around.  We ended up at the Arboretum, where we love to go to the pet store to ooh and aah over the cute little puppies.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were walking through the store when this little guy caught my hubby's eye.  An attentive employee noticed the puddle that was my husband's heart on the floor and, thinking it might be an opportunity for a sale, asked if we wanted to hold him. (Word to the wise: ALWAYS SAY NO WHEN THEY ASK YOU TO HOLD A SNUGGLE-DEPRIVED, ADORABLE, WIGGLY LITTLE PUPPY.)  To make a long story short, we hold him, we play with him, we're hesitant, we agree if they'll throw in the microchip activation for free, employee leaves to check with the manager, I'm about to tell Scott I don't think we should do it, employee comes back with a cheery "You've just gotten yourselves a dog!"  Crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We leave about half an hour later with this little furball, and I have to admit he's a pretty good little pup.  His name is Cash (which is twofold - one reason is for a random Friends reference, same with Rosita, and the second is for Johnny Cash, who we love).  He and Scott are definitely buddies already (Scott actually agreed to use his gig money for the dog rather than buy the new midi controller he's had his eye on...that's a big deal, people!).  He hates being in his crate (it's probably akin to prison flashbacks, right?) and he wants to be right on top of us all of the time.  He even has a little sweater to wear because when we took him outside the first couple of days he would just stand there and shiver. :(  Rosita (our other pup) likes him but doesn't realize that she could crush him without much effort so playtime has to be carefully supervised.  The kitties seem to be in denial about this intruder in their home.  And me?  I'm adjusting, even if it's a little begrudgingly.  It's hard not to love him when he's curled up on my lap sleeping peacefully.  Talk to me when they're running around the house like a couple of crazy pups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave you with a picture of the 2 boys in the Spruill household:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SX-4CJT3BuI/AAAAAAAAACE/liyiFaJQANk/s1600-h/IMG_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SX-4CJT3BuI/AAAAAAAAACE/liyiFaJQANk/s320/IMG_0099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296154033809458914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, they're cute... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-8762203157159212830?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/8762203157159212830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=8762203157159212830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8762203157159212830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8762203157159212830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-addition.html' title='A new addition...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/SX-0YjJEeMI/AAAAAAAAAB8/S51g8F-QYZM/s72-c/IMG_0102.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-2214281172824147566</id><published>2009-01-20T11:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T12:03:31.658-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rosita'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bliss'/><title type='text'>Yaaaaaaayyy!</title><content type='html'>Just wanted to say that I'm sooooo excited about the snow!  I feel like a five-year-old...I think Scott's getting a little irritated at my giddiness. :)  My boss's work was closed today, too, which means I get a snow day to curl up all warm and toasty and watch the snow continue to fall (although, to be honest, I kind of wish I was at work so I could play outside in the snow with the kiddos!).  Rosie and I have already been out once, and I'm sure we'll go out and play again later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-2214281172824147566?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/2214281172824147566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=2214281172824147566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2214281172824147566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/2214281172824147566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/01/yaaaaaaayyy.html' title='Yaaaaaaayyy!'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-3663874662411343841</id><published>2009-01-19T22:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:56:51.258-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new experiences'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God moments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting fit'/><title type='text'>There's always a reason...</title><content type='html'>So, Monday is my piano lesson day...I drive over to Baxter Village and give lessons to four students who all live within about ten seconds of each other. Even though the kids didn't have school today, we still planned on doing lessons for all of them.  To make a long story short, ALL of the lessons ended up falling through for one reason or another, with me finding out about the last remaining one WHEN I GOT TO THEIR HOUSE.  Twenty minutes away.  Their mom was very apologetic, and typically the first time I'm pretty forgiving when it comes to stuff like that.  Thankfully, the trip was not a total loss...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started downloading sermons from Matt Chandler at &lt;a href="http://www.thevillagechurch.net"&gt;The Village Church&lt;/a&gt;.  I've been trying to listen to their podcasts when I have a substantial amount of time in my car by myself, just because I'm not usually in the service at Crosspoint and it's important for me to hear sermons every once in awhile. :)  The sermon that I listened to in the car today was called "Two Great Temptations" and he talked about how the biggest temptations keeping us from God are not "bad things," but actually our families (putting them - especially kids - before Christ) and seeking happiness (rather than the true joy that comes from Christ).  Although the kid issue doesn't really apply to me (yet), I realized how easy it is to focus on finding happiness in people and things rather than the joy that comes from walking hand-in-hand with Jesus.  It was just a great, Biblical message about making sure God is the ultimate priority in our lives.  So even though I made took a 45-minute drive today for no apparent reason (thankfully, with the Prius I didn't waste too much gas!) I really feel like I was supposed to go so I could spend a little quality time with God.  And my prayer for my own life is that I would strive to pursue the joy for Christ rather than the happiness that things can bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, I've joined Weight Watchers with some friends, and I'm trying really hard to stick to my number of points.  That may be easy to say since I've only been doing it since Saturday... ;)  Tomorrow, I'm going to Zumba class with my friend Miranda, so hopefully that will kick my butt into gear a bit.  I've always wanted to go, but I get anxious about doing things like that by myself the first time, so I'm glad I get to break the ice with a good friend!  I just want to get into the best shape that I can so that whenever we decide it's time to start a family I can already have healthy habits established... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about bedtime...I'm going to fall asleep hoping that there will be SNOW on the ground tomorrow!  Seeing snow on a regular basis is probably the thing I miss most about living in Indiana (except for the people that I love, of course!)...we got to see just a little bit when we were there for Thanksgiving, so I'm praying for a SNOW DAY!  Plus, if the schools cancel, my boss is off from work, which means I may get to sleep in a bit...that's just a side benefit. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-3663874662411343841?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/3663874662411343841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=3663874662411343841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3663874662411343841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/3663874662411343841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/01/theres-always-reason.html' title='There&apos;s always a reason...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-4660279790765211892</id><published>2009-01-16T16:43:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:57:09.456-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new experiences'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>My new endeavor...</title><content type='html'>So, for those of you who don't know, I am learning to play the hammered dulcimer -- and contrary to popular belief, it has nothing at all to do with alcohol. :) You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that joke already...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For awhile now, I've been feeling the need to do something creative.  I've played piano for years and years, and studied musical direction for theatre in college.  Even after I graduated I played piano at my church until I moved to Lynchburg to be with Scott.  After I moved, it all stopped...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, I was totally okay with that.  I was suffering from an extreme case of burn-out.  I had a passion for music and theatre, but when they became something that I had to do for hours and hours every day, it became tedious and I lost the love of doing it.  It took about three years before I got that craving back.  When I finally started really wanting to play again, Scott very graciously let me sit in on keyboards in the &lt;a href="http://www.crosspoint521.org"&gt;Crosspoint&lt;/a&gt; band...that was sooo much fun because it was a totally different type of music than I had ever played (contemporary worship music with the occasional secular song thrown in).  It's fun to fill in, but my responsibilities with the children's ministry don't let me do it too often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, this summer I found out from my friend Bridgette that she was moving from her one bedroom apartment into a room at her sister's house and she was worried she wouldn't have room for her stuff.  She owns a hammered dulcimer that's in pretty great shape and when I mentioned that I thought it was a cool instrument she asked if I wanted to borrow it while she lives in Charleston.  It worked out great for both of us -- one less thing for her to fit into her new room, and I could try it out without investing in an instrument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we had a little money to spare for lessons, I contacted &lt;a href="http://www.susansherlock.com"&gt;Susan&lt;/a&gt;, a dulcimer player from York, SC who teaches lessons.  I just had my second lesson today, and I'm loving it so far.  She's helping me develop my ear and not rely on written music as much, which for a visual learner like me is no small task. :)  I'm attending a workshop at her house next weekend about arranging music that I think will be super beneficial.  I have no idea where I'll ever play the dulcimer, but for now I'm just enjoying getting to know the instrument and fulfilling my neglected creative side... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-4660279790765211892?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/4660279790765211892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=4660279790765211892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4660279790765211892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4660279790765211892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-new-endeavor.html' title='My new endeavor...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-6444044348657012504</id><published>2009-01-15T22:43:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:57:32.249-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><title type='text'>I'm baaaaaaack...</title><content type='html'>Soooo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apologies on the nearly year-long blogging hiatus.  I would like to think that I'll keep up with it this time, but who knows...life may intervene and take my attention away again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For today, a simple post...a story from work today that has made me laugh every time I think about it.  My job is to hang out with some great kids.  T (11 1/2), G (10), M (4), and A (2 1/2), oldest and youngest are girls and the middle two are boys.  I'm with the younger two during the day (except for the few hours they're at preschool) and the older first thing in the morning (depending on the day) and after school for awhile...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A was 3 months old when I started and it's pretty amazing to have watched her grow up.  She is one of the girliest girls I've ever met, which her mom blames on the fact that she prayed for a girly girl while she was pregnant (T, the older daughter, is a little bit of a tomboy).  Her "faborite" color is pink, and on any given day you can find her dressed up as any of the Disney princesses.  She gives me instructions how many ponytails she wants every day (1 or 2) and the littlest speck of dirt must be brushed off of her arm &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;instantly&lt;/span&gt; when we play outside.  She also loves her "pacie" and would love if I would let her have it all day (rather than restricting it to naptime and bedtime).  She has a "faborite" pacie that is (of course) light pink, and she even has a "pacie drawer" in the kitchen where she will throw her pacies in the morning when she wakes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was time to lay down for a nap today, I told her she could go get a pacie from the pacie drawer.  She ran into the kitchen and opened up the drawer, but she could only find a pacie that was not her "faborite." She held it up and said "I don't like this pacie." Then -- and I saw her entire thought process -- she looked down at her outfit (a pink Disney princess sweatsuit), back at the pacie (which was pink and yellow), and put the pacie on her shirt to see if it matched.  Then she looks back at me and says "Oh, I like this one now," and popped it in her mouth.  Hahahahaha...what a girl...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-6444044348657012504?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/6444044348657012504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=6444044348657012504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/6444044348657012504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/6444044348657012504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-baaaaaaack.html' title='I&apos;m baaaaaaack...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-6176681724257139720</id><published>2008-02-01T21:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:57:55.278-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stressed out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><title type='text'>A glimpse into my future...</title><content type='html'>So, this week has been hard.  Really hard.  Work has been stressful, because both kids are sick (plus my hubby), which means that I am sick.  Plus I'm trying to get Kindermusik stuff all figured out, and it's coming along &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; slowly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday, for the first time in the year and a half that I've been a nanny I felt like a mom.  I had to take A to the doctor because she had an ear infection.  No big deal, I thought when her mom asked me the evening before if I could take her.  I've taken her lots of places.  How is the doctor any different? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  Was I in for a shock.  She was fine until we got back in the room and the nurse took her temperature.  I have never been clung to more tightly.  Then the doctor came in and tried to listen to her heart.  The poor woman got smacked in the face, and I got little nails dug into me.  And then the ears.  Oh, the ears.  It took me basically laying on top of her legs and holding her arms while the doctor held her head and cleaned out her ears so she could examine them.  A was screaming and sobbing the whole time and all I wanted to do was push the doctor out of the way and hold this poor little girl.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, we were done, and I realized I had made my fatal error: I FORGOT TO BRING A PACIFIER.  WTF.  She cried the entire way out to the car, the entire way to CVS to get her antibiotics, and while we were in CVS until I did something that I hate -- I helped her turn to food for comfort.  That's right, I opened up a bag of mini Chips Ahoy and let her (and M) eat them for the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;twenty minutes&lt;/span&gt; we were in line to drop off the prescription. (I should mention that M was a perfect angel the entire time.  He tried to distract A during her appointment, he tried to cheer her up with her sticker from the doctor.  Basically, he was an amazing big brother.)  When we finally got up to the register we found out it was an hour wait to pick up her medicine, so we went home (after paying for a half-eaten bag of cookies) and got the "pacie" and snuggled for awhile.  Then she got to take a nap.  Me?  Nope...I got to play with a 3-year-old and try to hide my exhaustion.  He had been such a good boy all day that I wanted to make sure we got lots of quality time while A was sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His turn was coming, though.  I went to pick him up from school on Thursday, and his teacher said she didn't think he was feeling well.  He didn't eat his lunch or a birthday cupcake that a little girl brought, which is a big deal for him.  This kid &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;loves &lt;/span&gt;his food.  He came running out to hug me and he was pale and his eyes were so sick-looking.  We got out to my truck and he burst into tears..."I want to be at home!" he wailed in the middle of the parking lot.  We got home, I put A in bed for her nap, and I took his temperature.  102.8 degrees.  Fabulous.  Meanwhile, I'm starting to feel like crap.  I can't breathe through my nose, my head is aching, and I'm soooo tired.  I gave M some children's Tylenol and laid him down on the couch watching The Backyardigans while I went to the kitchen to call Scott to bring me some medicine.  Apparently my conversation was disturbing him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you talking to out there, Stefanie?"  M asked me.&lt;br /&gt;"Mister Scott.  He's going to bring me some medicine because I don't feel very good, either."&lt;br /&gt;"Me too."&lt;br /&gt;"I know, buddy.  But your medicine is going to make you feel better soon."&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe Scott could bring two medicines to my house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid can even make me smile while he's laying half-conscious on the couch watching cartoons. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of my nine-hour day (ugh) involved finding cartoons for M, trying to get him to drink water, checking and re-checking his temp, and dealing with a cranky A when she woke up (part of the reason she was cranky was because she had poked M in the face after he finally fell asleep, and I scolded her...she was not happy).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I worked today (normally my day off).  And I'm working tomorrow for a few hours (Saturday).  I love my job, and I love those kids.  I would do anything in the whole world for them.  But I'm still not feeling well, so I'm just praying that God reaches down and miraculously makes me feel better.  Like in the next five minutes would be nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-6176681724257139720?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/6176681724257139720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=6176681724257139720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/6176681724257139720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/6176681724257139720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2008/02/glimpse-into-my-future.html' title='A glimpse into my future...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-4601010606700378212</id><published>2008-01-28T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T22:03:38.072-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><title type='text'>Just because I think it's funny...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_OBlgSz8sSM&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_OBlgSz8sSM&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-4601010606700378212?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/4601010606700378212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=4601010606700378212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4601010606700378212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4601010606700378212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2008/01/just-because-i-think-its-funny.html' title='Just because I think it&apos;s funny...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-4163918572521024393</id><published>2008-01-28T14:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T22:54:54.258-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kid logic'/><title type='text'>3-year-old logic</title><content type='html'>A conversation M and I had on the way home from preschool:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Hey, Stefanie...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah, buddy?&lt;br /&gt;M: On my next birthday, I'm going to be... [long pause]&lt;br /&gt;Me: [trying to help] Four?&lt;br /&gt;M: No... [thinking &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;hard]...twenty...ummm...five!&lt;br /&gt;Me: [laughing] Twenty-five?&lt;br /&gt;M: Yeah!  That's how old I'll be.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Did you know that I'm twenty-five right now?&lt;br /&gt;M: Yeah!  And on my next birthday, I'm going to be twenty-five!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, it won't be very long before you're twenty-five.  But three is a pretty good age, too.  I think being three is lots of fun.  &lt;br /&gt;M: [dreamily] Yeah...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-4163918572521024393?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/4163918572521024393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=4163918572521024393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4163918572521024393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/4163918572521024393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2008/01/3-year-old-logic.html' title='3-year-old logic'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-8409854416460090633</id><published>2007-11-26T13:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T13:16:23.231-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high-larious'/><title type='text'>I'm sure this made God giggle a bit...</title><content type='html'>So, I co-teach (with A) the K-5th grade class at our church.  Yesterday, I realized that I had gotten done with the lesson way too early, so I decided to play a nice game of Hangman with the kids using some descriptive words of God that we had talked about during the lesson.  Teams were boys v. girls, it was the boys' turn, and the board looked like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__ O R __ I __ I N G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the team spokesperson for a letter, and all of the sudden M (L &amp; A's son) appeared to have an epiphany.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have a guess?"  I asked hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Boring?" M asked innocently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A and I lost it.  Luckily, the word was "forgiving," so I'm sure that M was forgiven about thinking "boring" was a good way to describe God.  Actually, I'm pretty certain that God may have been laughing as hard as we were...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-8409854416460090633?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/8409854416460090633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=8409854416460090633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8409854416460090633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8409854416460090633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-sure-this-made-god-giggle-bit.html' title='I&apos;m sure this made God giggle a bit...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-8087123679128706678</id><published>2007-11-17T22:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T22:05:20.393-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gross'/><title type='text'>Ewww...</title><content type='html'>Me: "What's wrong?  Why are you glaring at me like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L: "Indigestion.  I'm just trying not to burp."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-8087123679128706678?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/8087123679128706678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=8087123679128706678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8087123679128706678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8087123679128706678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/ewww.html' title='Ewww...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-8186328705978214603</id><published>2007-11-15T20:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:58:58.613-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Thoughts from the brink of exhaustion...</title><content type='html'>First of all, I should apologize in advance if anything in this blog doesn't make sense.  After a very late night last night I went into work extra-early this morning, and I have just shooed my friend Apryl's kids off to bed as I am watching them during her band rehearsal for church.  So, I've basically been watching kids for 13 hours (with a one hour break in between) on very little sleep -- and yes, before anyone thinks it, I realize that's what the next eighteen years of my life look like once we have kids.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  So I'm spoiled with my current childless existence (which, when you think about it, isn't childless in the least bit).  I will share a total "Mom Moment" I had tonight, though...Apryl had told her boys that they needed to pick up their rooms while she was gone or a certain rear body part may be hurting tomorrow.  Well, Jadon (8 yo) came downstairs showing me a bunch of random things and then was ready to play some video games.  I asked him if he had cleaned up his room, and he said no and went upstairs.  He came downstairs literally 30 seconds later and told me he was all done -- with the most guilty look, I might add.  Not being a pushover (well...at least when it comes to kids), I asked him again if he was sure, and he said yes.  So, very nicely, I said "Well, let me go up and make sure it looks okay."  That hopeful, guilty look quickly faded into a typical Jadon scowl and he stomped upstairs saying, "Okay, fine."  Then I made him tell me that he actually hadn't done anything before sending him up to finish.  Definitely a practice moment for about ten years in the future...wait, my hubby will probably read this...I mean twenty years in the future...twenty-five?  &lt;em&gt;Thirty&lt;/em&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the reason for our late night last night was totally justified...we went to see David Crowder in Columbia, SC.  Kind of an armpit of a town, but David Crowder is worth it.  We were running a little (AKA a lot) late, missed the first opening band and only caught the last few songs of Phil Wickham, who is a current fave new artist.  (Interesting side note: I learned last night that Phil Wickham is not, in fact, British.  I don't know why I assumed he was, but he's not.  He's from SoCal.  Pretty much the opposite of being British.  I don't know if he sounded British (is that racist?) or if (being the huge Jane Austen fan that I am) I was thinking of George Wickham from &lt;em&gt;Pride and Prejudice&lt;/em&gt;?  Whatever.  He's not.)  If you haven't heard his stuff, check it out.  Even the music snobs in my life (Jamie and the Hubby) approve, so you know it has merit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David Crowder is awesome in concert.  There's nothing else to say (except, of course, what I'm about to say)...he's hilarious and personable and talented and worshipful and every guy on stage seems to care about the fact that people in the crowd paid money to hear them.  They played a lot off of their new CD, Remedy, which is pretty much amazing, but they played a lot off of their other CDs, too.  It was nice to just be able to sit and worship and not worry about if the hubby was stressed out or if my kids were going crazy for the teacher filling in for me in my class or if enough people had showed up or if people were engaging in worship or ANYTHING.  I got to sit.  And worship.  And not think about any logistics.  And just be with God.  It's been awhile...too long, in fact.  And it made me realize that I'm going to need to make more of an effort because David Crowder will not, unfortunately, be within driving distance on a regular basis.  And I need to take more responsibility in pursuing times for worship, whether musical or otherwise.  I've slacked, and last night opened my eyes to that fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that scattered post, I'm off to watch &lt;em&gt;Grey's Anatomy&lt;/em&gt;.  Don't judge me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-8186328705978214603?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/8186328705978214603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=8186328705978214603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8186328705978214603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/8186328705978214603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/thoughts-from-brink-of-exhaustion.html' title='Thoughts from the brink of exhaustion...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-491277825375476413</id><published>2007-11-06T17:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T17:57:04.103-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Example of typical convo in my house...</title><content type='html'>Hubby: "Man, my nose is stuffed up.  I feel like Duncan Sheik."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Why, because you're barely breathing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby:  "Exactly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little frightened about how well I've come to know the workings of his mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-491277825375476413?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/491277825375476413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=491277825375476413' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/491277825375476413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/491277825375476413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/example-of-typical-convo-in-my-house.html' title='Example of typical convo in my house...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-5559930076614874131</id><published>2007-11-05T21:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T12:59:21.244-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hubby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rosita'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M-n-A'/><title type='text'>Puppy Troubles in Fall Time...</title><content type='html'>It's funny...before I had a blog, I always felt like I had a lot to blog about.  Something would happen, and I would think, "If I had a blog, I would definitely write about this."  Now that I have a blog, I can't come up with anything to blog about, no matter how much I try.  That being said, I apologize for the mundane nature of this post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a beautiful day.  Outside, I mean...inside the house was not quite so beautiful.  I have a sick hubby and a sick puppy, so life's been a little icky these past couple days (well, if you had experienced what we experienced with Rosita's tummy troubles, you would know that it was a LOT yucky!).  Luckily, I did get to leave a couple of times, to give a piano lesson and run a few errands, so I got to see what a beautiful day it was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love fall.  I always forget how much I love fall until it rolls around on the calendar.  It's just such a beautiful time of year.  M (the little boy I nanny for) has been &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; excited about fall.  All throughout the summer when the wind would blow and pine needles would fall out of the tree, he would ask me if it was fall time yet.  Then one day he woke up from his nap yelling "Stefanie! Stefanie!" (which is very unusual, because he's a slow "waker")...I asked him what happened and he's starts shouting at the top of his lungs, "The leaves on the trees are orange!  It's fall time!  Come on, come see!"  So, A (his little sister) and I ran upstairs to look at the window, and he was right...the neighbors across the street had the first orange trees in the neighborhood.  He was so excited, and it was so fun to see him so excited...now everyday after preschool we crunch leaves in the grass and look at how the trees are changing.  I'm definitely going to be sad when there's no more leaves for us to walk through!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with a sad little pic of our sick puppy...doesn't she break your heart? :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Ry_fyyIkSLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/D59199gCCGw/s1600-h/sick+rosie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Ry_fyyIkSLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/D59199gCCGw/s320/sick+rosie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129564564142442674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-5559930076614874131?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/5559930076614874131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=5559930076614874131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/5559930076614874131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/5559930076614874131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-funny.html' title='Puppy Troubles in Fall Time...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Ry_fyyIkSLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/D59199gCCGw/s72-c/sick+rosie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658030208018372714.post-957172348145595711</id><published>2007-11-03T00:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T00:35:23.804-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>I was feeling left out...</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so I jumped on the blogging bandwagon.  Maybe that makes me a lemming, but whatever...I've resisted long enough.  And since it's after midnight, that's all I have to say for now. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2658030208018372714-957172348145595711?l=stefaniespruill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/feeds/957172348145595711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2658030208018372714&amp;postID=957172348145595711' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/957172348145595711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2658030208018372714/posts/default/957172348145595711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stefaniespruill.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-was-feeling-left-out.html' title='I was feeling left out...'/><author><name>Stefanie Spruill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01190739177900875094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fa_NI7IakFI/Sjz91HxTh1I/AAAAAAAAADQ/9ejznuqSlRY/S220/4574_1159654465950_1065444302_30464253_2604006_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
