<?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-32907748</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:12:15.080-08:00</updated><category term='ouchies'/><category term='niagara falls'/><category term='vacations'/><category term='potty'/><category term='humor'/><title type='text'>Lessons From Toby</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32907748.post-7025096670284711661</id><published>2011-07-02T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T06:43:35.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's in a title?</title><content type='html'>I am really not all about titles. I think they are presumptuous when used in daily conversation.  For example:  "Sir Elton John" - his title of "Sir" is a bit rediculous on lots of levels.  But, titles do hold importance when it comes to things like blogs.  I think this one started out about lessons from Toby to me and lessons from me to Toby, but I think this is morphing into something else; consequently, I am left with 2 choices - either change the title or start talking more about lessons.  I think Mom blogs are great, especially for posterity, but maybe what I am struggling with is that this blog title is so specific that it leaves little room for anything but "lessons."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe a better title would allow me the freedom and creativity to write whatever's on my mind.  Maybe a title like "Life in rural New England," or "Life as a Child of God, Pastor's Wife, Mom, Daughter, Sister, Cousin and Friend."  Now that would encompass ALL my titles outside of work (I think).  But like I said, I'm not into titles.  I saw a show about a guy who could/would only eat french fries and he called his blog "The Fry Guy" -- now that's a great and descriptive title.  Which leads me to contemplate - what am I known for.  Certainly not anything like that, thankfully.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I'm thinking "Hodgepodge," because it means a mixture; however, I've also seen it as a &lt;em&gt;consfused&lt;/em&gt; mixture - which would be a really bad title.  I wish Brian, my wordsmith, would wake up since he would know just the right word.  I will wait for him to wake before changing the title of this blog.  I am open to suggestions as well.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-7025096670284711661?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/7025096670284711661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=7025096670284711661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/7025096670284711661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/7025096670284711661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2011/07/whats-in-title.html' title='What&apos;s in a title?'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-6010081744699827092</id><published>2011-05-22T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T13:44:31.661-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><title type='text'>Now that's a good one...</title><content type='html'>This morning, Toby came in to snuggle and I was going to check the weather report, but got distracted by a show on the Food Network.  It was "Alex's Day Off," and she was making a grape and olive oil cake.  She prepped it and put it in the spring-form pan and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Now you take your cake and very carefully, carry it like you would a small child, and then you open the door and gently put it in your oven."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toby said, not knowing how hard we would soon be laughing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"You put your child in the oven?"&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian, who I thought was sleeping, and I were laughing so hard, for about 5 minutes.  It's this kind of sweet, innocent question that I love to hear from Toby.  He's hysterical - and yet has no idea!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, the things my kid says.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-6010081744699827092?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/6010081744699827092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=6010081744699827092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/6010081744699827092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/6010081744699827092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2011/05/now-thats-good-one.html' title='Now that&apos;s a good one...'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-8188551491199159914</id><published>2011-05-17T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T18:37:01.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Tracking</title><content type='html'>I am kicking myself for not keeping this blog going.  But, you can't go back, so I'll keep going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's some of Toby's latest muses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T: "Mom, let's go on the playground."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "No sweetie, there are some big kids on there now."&lt;br /&gt;T: "It's OK Mommy, they won't rough me up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, you and Daddy are the best in the whole world.  No, the entire universe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep adding to these as I remember them...but now, I'm sleepy and can't think of others to write.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-8188551491199159914?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/8188551491199159914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=8188551491199159914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/8188551491199159914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/8188551491199159914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2011/05/back-tracking.html' title='Back Tracking'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-7766140853555608718</id><published>2008-09-02T02:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T18:41:36.360-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='niagara falls'/><title type='text'>Up so early!</title><content type='html'>So I'm just not able to sleep and landed here.  It's been way too long since I've recorded any of Toby's growing up and I wish I could remember all the funny things he has said in the past few months but there are too many!  So, I'll do a recap of our summer trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In June, we were blessed by Brian's parents with a trip to Niagara Falls and Lake Ontario, NY.  I could have moved there - it was so beautiful.  Toby calls it "My Agara Falls" and when he sees a picture of any waterfall - big or small - he says - &lt;blockquote&gt;"Look Mommy, MiAgara Falls.  We went there and we went to the Canadian side."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed in this fantastic B&amp;B in Fairhaven, NY - right on the lake.  It was a great vacation!  Here are a few pics. from our trip with Grandma and Grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;First time on a train!  Toby loved this - especially since he "gets the yuckys" (carsick) when we drive anywhere with any curves in the road.  Our train left from Albany, NY and 6.5 hrs. later we were in Niagara.  After 4 hours Toby said "I don't want to be on the train anymore."  I offered for him to watch "Cars" and we were good for the rest of the time.  I'm now a huge fan of train travel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1oYfOJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/wQXUI14Bj_M/s1600-h/DSC_0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:top; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1oYfOJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/wQXUI14Bj_M/s320/DSC_0002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241361855865108626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This one's on the "Maid of the Mist" (of Bruce Almighty).  We were soaked from the mist of the falls - and it was fantastic.  Toby would tell everyone how he got wet on the boat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O0_myqYI/AAAAAAAAABc/E5wQmV14XKM/s1600-h/389589-R1-021-9_010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:top; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O0_myqYI/AAAAAAAAABc/E5wQmV14XKM/s320/389589-R1-021-9_010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241361844919249282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Mighty Falls from down below.  We went 100 ft. (?) down an elevator to the "Cave of the Winds" and walked below the falls. The catwalks (next pic.) go as close as you can get to the base of the falls.  The last section you can go up to the "Hurricane Deck" - Brian brought Toby up and he loved it - and so did we.  Seeing Toby enjoy nature the way he does is a joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1OsKg7I/AAAAAAAAABk/tQX1XlByhIQ/s1600-h/bottomNOrock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:top; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1OsKg7I/AAAAAAAAABk/tQX1XlByhIQ/s320/bottomNOrock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241361848968315826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1Ur35tI/AAAAAAAAABs/SVo0zaLhwQo/s1600-h/389589-R1-005-1_002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:top; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1Ur35tI/AAAAAAAAABs/SVo0zaLhwQo/s320/389589-R1-005-1_002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241361850577708754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;That's us in the evening on the Canadian side.  I hope we can go back again and spend more time there.  Perhaps next time we won't have to be detained by border patrol before we get back to the U.S. side.  It was beautiful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O13MHCVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Mkg4j7EDPvs/s1600-h/DSC_0019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O13MHCVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Mkg4j7EDPvs/s320/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241361859839723858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-7766140853555608718?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/7766140853555608718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=7766140853555608718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/7766140853555608718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/7766140853555608718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2008/09/up-so-earlly.html' title='Up so early!'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CcFHjSOIrt4/SL0O1oYfOJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/wQXUI14Bj_M/s72-c/DSC_0002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32907748.post-9074640256462565817</id><published>2008-05-20T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T09:57:48.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing</title><content type='html'>Today Toby was singing a new song.  It was very cute and very high pitched.  It went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I'm sorry that I disobeyed.  I'm sorry that I disobeyed Mommy and Daddy.  I don't talk to you that way.  I'm sorry that I disobeyed.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a sweet boy, really!  He's been in his room singing and playing and -- maybe -- cleaning something up for about 1/2 an hour now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-9074640256462565817?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/9074640256462565817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=9074640256462565817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/9074640256462565817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/9074640256462565817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2008/05/singing.html' title='Singing'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-5256833936522082063</id><published>2008-05-20T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T09:55:42.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='potty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ouchies'/><title type='text'>While Mommy was away</title><content type='html'>This past weekend I attended my 20th High School reunion.  It was a fabulous time wiht some fantastic women.  While I was away, Brian took care of Toby.  Here are a few quotes/tales from their time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, Brian took Toby to the beach at the lake.  On the way out he fell and said &lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Ouch, I'm having a rough day.  The only thing I want to do is go to the beach and not get any ouchies.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, on Sunday, there was an "incident" of sorts at church.  Ugh!  Toby got wet and then sandy so Brian was called to change him (not sure why) and while he was attempting to find another pair of pants (none could be found), Toby had to go to the bathroom.  Unfortunately, he wanted to go on a tree.  Now, this is ok at home, but it's not ok at church/school.  Toby proceeded to pull his pants down and run outside yelling: &lt;blockquote&gt;I want to pee on a tree.&lt;/blockquote&gt;  Apparently, this lead to much screaming, a lot of "no Daddy, no" and an early car ride home.  When they returned home, Toby said he was sorry for disobeying and sinning and prayed that God would forgive him.  Then, he fell asleep with Daddy for a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came home I was greeted with the biggest, hugest, longest, strongest hug I've ever had from my little boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-5256833936522082063?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/5256833936522082063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=5256833936522082063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/5256833936522082063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/5256833936522082063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2008/05/while-mommy-was-away.html' title='While Mommy was away'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-1889480948255377381</id><published>2008-05-09T06:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T06:49:13.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toby's Mother's Day Card</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is an example of the card I made for my Mom from Toby.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a49344f4445334d413d3d0d0a&amp;amp;campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" height="303" alt="Click to play To Nana, Love Toby" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d7a49344f4445334d413d3d0d0a.jpg" width="386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=hallmark%20HTTP/1.1&amp;amp;campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" height="46" alt="Create your own free ecard - Powered by Smilebox" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmileboxSmall.gif" width="386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smilebox.com/ecards" target="_blank"&gt;Make a Smilebox free ecard&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-1889480948255377381?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/1889480948255377381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=1889480948255377381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/1889480948255377381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/1889480948255377381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2008/05/tobys-mothers-day-card.html' title='Toby&apos;s Mother&apos;s Day Card'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-8843169045867618864</id><published>2008-03-23T19:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T19:51:33.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sweet Little Boy - for posterity...</title><content type='html'>Last night, Toby came out oh so quietly from his room saying “I pooped.” But this time the look on his face was different. And then in the dim light of the hallway I saw that he was holding out his hands. After confirming what I dreaded to be true - yes, he had tried to take off his nighttime diaper himself - that his hands were dirty and well, you can do the math here, we both got cleaned up and my son got changed, he finally fell asleep at 10pm after I held him for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh boys are so sweet - even when their hands smell like poop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Toby Bear...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-8843169045867618864?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/8843169045867618864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=8843169045867618864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/8843169045867618864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/8843169045867618864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-sweet-little-boy-for-posterity.html' title='My Sweet Little Boy - for posterity...'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-2733015313878395535</id><published>2007-12-16T06:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T16:48:23.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What to do??????</title><content type='html'>This past Thursday we got about a foot of snow dropped outside our door.  Toby woke up on Friday morning excited beyond belief - "look at all the snow"  he said.  "I want to put on my boots and snowsuit and go outside."  We then received a call from a visiting friend, Lori (&lt;a href="http://thebargainshopperlady.com"&gt;www.thebargainshopperlady.com&lt;/a&gt;), and were packing up to go play with her son, Landon.  By the end of our time with Landon and his family (btw, his Grandma is Toby's preschool teacher) Toby shouted with glee: "I love this, I want to stay here forever!"  Later that day it took 30 minutes to calm him down after his nap b/c he believed that "Landon needs me - I need him, can we please go back to Mrs. Granniss' house now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what does this have to do with the title of this blog?  Well, Lori and I talked about the internet and how she earns money by blogging the bargains she finds and gets paid a commission when people buy things off her site.  I need to figure out a way to do this too.  I'm thinking something with computers and/or photography (esp. since my Canon slr is coming soon). hmmmmmmmmmm - maybe an online computer tutoring blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahhhh, Brian is asleep since church was cancelled, but I better go now and call channel 3 and resend our cancellation so I don't have to wake him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-2733015313878395535?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/2733015313878395535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=2733015313878395535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/2733015313878395535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/2733015313878395535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-to-do.html' title='What to do??????'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32907748.post-115946915554137466</id><published>2006-09-28T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T11:45:55.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birth days</title><content type='html'>I just had another birthday. I used to get &lt;b&gt;SO&lt;/b&gt; excited about this one day of the year. This time it wasn't much to get excited about. Really? Could that be it? I no longer am happy about having another celebration of my birth? OK. It is. I don't know why I felt that way either. Maybe because I am feeling older now instead of just getting older. Maybe it's because I have a son now and so my birthday takes a seat on the back burner (so to speak) by the memory and the celebration of his birth.  So, it's not all about me.  Maybe it was the dumb show I watched that got me upset because it brought up emotions that I am trying to suppress. Who knows, but whatever it was/is my birthday just doesn't bring the same excitement that it used to.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not saying all this to grouse (my new favorite word from my friend Beth) because I have a great life. In fact, the day &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; my birthday was great. My wonderful husband made me his pumpkin pie - yummmmm and brought me breakfast in bed. AHHHHHH. But it was also very relaxing to just hang out with Brian and Toby. I also swept and mopped the floors on the main level but that was also rewarding since it REALLY needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The postman just brought me the gifts that Brian ordered for my birthday. Robin McGraw's new book and the 2nd season of &lt;i&gt;Grey's Anatomy&lt;/i&gt;. Yes, I'm addicted. But it's such a "naughty" show for me, a Christian, to watch--despite the fact that Brian announced to everyone on Sunday that I love this show. Oh well. If this is my vice so be it. It's on tonight and I can't wait to see what happens next. So there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the point of all this is that even though there was no fan fare on my birthday (although there was a cake but that's another blog all together) I'm ok with that. I have Brian and Toby who celebrate me all throughout the year. Lately Toby is getting back into hugging and now kissing us again. What more do I need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/1600/Toby1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/200/Toby1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(BTW - the picture is from Toby's actual &lt;em&gt;birth&lt;/em&gt; day. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-115946915554137466?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/115946915554137466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=115946915554137466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115946915554137466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115946915554137466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2006/09/birth-days.html' title='Birth days'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-115852343318051721</id><published>2006-09-17T12:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T13:03:53.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drummmmmmm</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/1600/DSCN2920.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/200/DSCN2920.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian is not only a preacher/teacher, but he's also a drummer.  Anyone that went to our wedding might remember a little number he played with his brother ("Sweet Home Alabama") to close out the night.  It was great.  But, he's ALWAYS tapping or making some sort of percussional (is that a word?) noise.  Oh, don't get me wrong, he's SOOOOOO MUCH better then when we were first married, but he still likes to "tap, tap, taparoo (thank you Happy Gilmore)."  For someone, like me, that has ADHD, that's something that is so annoying - to the point where I don't hear anything else.  Now, I've adjusted too, but some days, and mostly in the car, I'm more easily annoyed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what was I thinking when I bought him a drum for our anniversary 2 years ago?  I'm really not sure, but, it's the best gift I've given him.  He uses it at church and with Toby - who also seems to have a propensity for drumming (or 'dummin' as he calls it).  I &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; to watch and listen to them play together and to see Toby dance along to the beat.  It's a great bond for them since I can't do much but try to mimic Brian!  And it's a beautiful sound - even on those days when my fuse is shorter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-115852343318051721?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/115852343318051721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=115852343318051721' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852343318051721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852343318051721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2006/09/drummmmmmm.html' title='Drummmmmmm'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32907748.post-115852244735717438</id><published>2006-09-17T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T12:47:27.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!  Biting Hurts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/1600/DSCN2906.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/320/DSCN2906.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that Toby is growing up faster then I could ever imagine.  We've been working on so much with him - manners, the potty, colors, and lots more.  He's a sponge.  On Friday I took him to a play date at the library and brought back a book called &lt;em&gt;Teeth are Not For Biting&lt;/em&gt;.  He doesn't bite a lot except when he's teething, but he's been bitten &lt;strong&gt;very&lt;/strong&gt; hard (it left bruise marks for 5 days) and we'd like him to be able to stand up for himself without biting back.  So, we have read him this book and he likes it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Sunday, he woke up and got the book I placed next to his crib.  He was reading and playing by himself for a bit and then called for me.  I went in and said good morning, turned on his light and gave him a kiss.  He was standing there with the book open at his feet to the page where the little girl had been bitten.  Toby said "Ouch!  Biting hurts."  It was as if he could actually read, since those were the exact words on the page.  WOW, I said - that's right, good job.  But what I was really thinking was - are you kidding????  You're 21 months and you said your first sentence - in context even - WOW!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish he'd slow down and not grow up so quickly but I know it's wonderful that he's such a happy and healthy toddler.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-115852244735717438?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/115852244735717438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=115852244735717438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852244735717438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852244735717438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2006/09/ouch-biting-hurts.html' title='Ouch!  Biting Hurts'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-115852177450130682</id><published>2006-09-17T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T12:49:59.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9/11 - 5 years later</title><content type='html'>9/11 was awful.  What I thought of was that my entire family lived, at the time, either in NYC or about 1 hr. from there and I was 2,000 mls. away from them I felt helpless in so many ways.  My parents were close enough that my father liked to go down to the beach on a clear day to see the towers.  On 9/11 he watched them on fire.  I first called my parents and then Brian.  My brother works in NY and thank The Lord, happened to call in sick that day.  He was, if I remember correctly, due to go to a meeting in or around the WTC.  Writing this now is actually making my heart race at the thought of all the families that had brothers, or relatives that &lt;i&gt; weren't&lt;/i&gt; sick that day.  I remember my grandmother and the fear in her voice describing the scence to me from her balcony terrace after it took me a very long time to get through to her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it's not really about my family, who all survived.  I remember hearing about my other brother's long time friend, Talbot, and how he was in one of the buildings and helped others to get out.  He too made it out.  But Mark Motroni didn't (&lt;a href="http://www.wallofamericans.com/php_files/wall.php?action=person_info&amp;id=1883"&gt;Mark Motroni, Wall of Americans&lt;/a&gt;).  He is the brother of one of our family's oldest friends.  So, every year I call and leave Hector and his family a message and tell them that we're thinking of them and that we love them.  It's something that tears me up everytime I see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately I now have a HUGE, almost debilitating, fear of taking the train into or anywhere in NYC.  And, my brother does this everyday.  I'm not sure how.  I just can't seem to do it.  But hopefully some day I will.  Or else they've won, right?  Isn't that how it goes?  Where's my faith?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-115852177450130682?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/115852177450130682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=115852177450130682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852177450130682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115852177450130682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2006/09/911-5-years-later.html' title='9/11 - 5 years later'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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-32907748.post-115584054898007013</id><published>2006-08-17T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T19:06:41.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BONKERS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/1600/toby_18mos.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2426/3606/200/toby_18mos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of my son's favorite words. He uses it all the time - mostly when he falls, which he does often since he's the ripe old age of 20 months. But he uses it when he bangs his head against the side of his crib when he's not looking, and the way he says it is wonderful and everytime he says it I love it. It's his way of dealing with the stress of being a toddler. It's not always this pretty, for example, he hasn't quite mastered the stress of frustration. He usually bites &lt;em&gt;himself&lt;/em&gt; on the arm. OUCH! In any case, for a little guy he seems to handle stress much better then his parents, more specifically - his mom. The stresses of being a stay at home mom are so different then working and I wouldn't trade it for anything. The stress of being responsible for this little one's life is indescribable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Toby gets older he's testing boundaries and that makes me nervous beyond explanation. Yesterday he started crawling up a hill to the street when we were visiting the horses (which made him giggle). Two days before that he fell in the bathtub when he was standing up (HUGE bonkers on his head) and now he's lost his fear of the water at the beach. This is my new stress. Completely different and without prayer I am not sure I wouldn't be in a padded room by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am learning to work this out with every battle we face together. Hopefully I won't fall down too much to where I can't get up and say &lt;strong&gt;bonkers&lt;/strong&gt; and brush off the dust.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32907748-115584054898007013?l=lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/feeds/115584054898007013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32907748&amp;postID=115584054898007013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115584054898007013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32907748/posts/default/115584054898007013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lessonsfromandfortoby.blogspot.com/2006/08/bonkers.html' title='BONKERS!'/><author><name>Nikki</name><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>
