<?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-8078393191547042364</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:01:41.544-08:00</updated><category term='A blustery day filled with animal-icious-ness'/><category term='ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ'/><title type='text'>Schaefer's Crazy World</title><subtitle type='html'>A peek into our window</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-7447727826026715419</id><published>2011-10-02T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T15:29:04.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toot-Toot!  Meet the New Summer Schaefer</title><content type='html'>This post is dedicated to those who knew me in my former life.  I'm talking about those who knew the me that balked at everything house-wife-ish.  And those who knew me to forget the lemon in a lemon meringue pie and literally explode a pan of brownies.  Literally.  I'm talking about my parents who got a phone call as I went from Florida to BYU as an 18 year old saying, "I can't be here!  I don't fit in with all these MORMON girls who cook and bake and sing and play piano!"  And I'm talking about friends who listened to me mentally gag at the idea of nursing, but it didn't matter, because I was sure I wouldn't be getting married anyway.  That is who I dedicate this post to because, boy oh boy, THINGS HAVE CHANGED! &lt;div&gt;I, of course, did get married.  And now I have three wonderfully fantastic and crazy kids.  In a side note, I am now very pro-nursing and even nursed my oldest until he was 3 months shy of 3 years old!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just feel the compulsion to list some of the changes that I, Summer Schafer, have made in the last few years (hard as they are to believe).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;Changes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-First I began to enjoy cooking.  AND I wasn't so bad at it.  Shocking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Next I learned to do Foot Renewal.  I went to a school to learn the art of rubbing the feet in very specific ways to spark the signals of the body for healing.  Its pretty amazing.  I don't do it enough, really.  But I can!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I switched full board to brown rice.  Even those picky kids of mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I learned to use essential oils for health benefits.  Some of my favorites are Lavender oil for calming (etc...) and DoTerra's Breathe for asthma and congestion.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I often clean with a vinegar, water, and essesntial oil mixture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-We did a garden last year and I kinda sorta liked it.  I also used to mock these  people.  We were too busy to garden this summer though :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-For my family, I started GRINDING wheat AND making homemade wheat bread!  WHAT???  I used to mock those people!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Now I am learning that I need to soak wheat and other grains and legumes before cooking them for my family.  This removes dangerous and nutrient blocking phytic acids (and more).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-For myself, I make a homemade sour dough wheat bread.  I'm the only one who will eat it, but it's worlds ahead on the nutrition scale. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I grow Kefir from Kefir grains and use it in smoothies, dressings, and for other milk substitutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I make (almost) green smoothies.  I say 'almost' b/c I haven't yet acquired the taste for veggie dominant smoothies.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I switched to a natural soap made with veggie oil.  We use Real Salt.  We use actual butter (I've even made some).  I occasionally put down the Pam and use liquid lecithin mixed with olive oil.  I only use EVOO and coconut oil when I cook.  I grind flax seed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I rarely use the microwave.  When I do, I make sure to cook on glass or ceramic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I made homemade (baby) brown rice cereal and oat cereal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-We don't have cable.  We cut it mainly for financial reasons, but with other entertainment options available, we probably won't go back.  Instant Netflix is easier to monitor what our kids watch and we're not subject to all those commercials.  Plus, I get addicted to TV series pretty insanely fast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I got off my anti-anxiety medicine and have been successful off thanks to oils and nutrition.  But I will concede that if I need to be on meds, then I need to be on meds, and I would in that case go back on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I fought Quincy's eczema with either vinegar or bleach in her bathwater and lotion mixed with essential oils.  None of that steroid crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I'm finally starting to lose weight after an incredibly discouraging FOUR YEAR FAIL!  I tried and I tried and I tried.  For me (and I do think its somewhat unique to me) I have to eat the RIGHT foods (read: whole foods) rather than cut calories to shed pounds.  True story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3366FF;"&gt;Now I need to list the things I WANT to do:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want to switch to a aluminum-free antiperspirant/deodorant.  I tried.  Tom's.  The crystal rock thing.  I STANK.  Any suggestions would be appreciated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want to exercise REGULARLY.  This could/should soon be a reality b/c I had my leaky bladder surgically fixed and just completed the "don't exert for 3 months" requirement.  So I just purchased a trial gym membership.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want to make cultured veggies, like saur-kraut and pickles.  The raw, no vinegar, fermented kind.  I need to shell out cash for the proper equipment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want my children to eat healthily, rather than eating a few healthy things as side-dishes to the crap.  I have a game plan.  The main prob here is I'm a softie.  But I figure they get enough treats at places like school, so they don't need junk from me too.  Wish me luck in the fight.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want to eat local and organic produce and animal products.  I'll get on that.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Going green.  I'm just not there.  I drive my car.  I don't bring my own bags to the store.  I use sandwich baggies.  Things like that.  Someday I'll be converted I suspect. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I want to live on a large plot of land in a modest house in almost the middle of nowhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Making cheese.  Someday I will.  Sooner than later I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;And finally, a list of things I can't seem to wrap my head around:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Home School.  I wish I could... I think.  But pretty sure I'd suck at it.  And  I do see some definite benefits to public schooling.  But it kinda feels like throwing my kids to the wolves.  Oh well.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Sewing.  Probably a useful thing.  Or I could just keep my sewing friends who love me.  Yeah, I'll do that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Crafting.  Occasionally I try against my soul-deep better judgment.  And I repeatedly fail.  Blech!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Cooking only with ceramic, glass, or stainless steel.  I should, I know!  But I love my non-stick pans.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Herbal Remedies.  YUCKY-YUCK-YUCK!  Oils do the same thing, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Cloth diapers.  Can't. Get. Over. The. Gross.  Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Running a self-sustaining little farm.  Amazing.  But I'm pretty sure I'm too lazy for that.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Reading consistently.  A good thing, I hear. But, who's got the time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the years, I have learned this about myself.  Never say never.  Maybe someday I'll be a marathon runner or something crazy like that.  Maybe I'll sell homemade blankets or bows or jewelry.  Maybe I'll be a vegan.  Or maybe I'll SING AND PLAY PIANO!  Who knows, because life brings you to crazy places when you're ready and not a minute before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, as it stands, I guess I'm a hippie of sorts.  WHO EVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED???!!!  I want to stay working at home as long as possible, just loving on that family of mine and nurturing their bodies and souls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note:  While I have made a lot of changes in our home, I am not 100% at anything.  Nothing.  And I like it that way.  Flexibility in the discipline.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-7447727826026715419?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/7447727826026715419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=7447727826026715419' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/7447727826026715419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/7447727826026715419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-post-is-dedicated-to-those-who.html' title='Toot-Toot!  Meet the New Summer Schaefer'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-903583460084345140</id><published>2010-11-05T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T18:05:31.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy Notes</title><content type='html'>Long time, no post.  &lt;div&gt;I did have what I considered to be a good excuse for a recanting of my consistent blogging goal.  I have a special condition in which I feel the need to disclose all, and if I wrote I just might have needed to announce my pregnancy early.  So, I did not blog  at all.  That way, I avoided any slip of the keys.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here we are, I'm 16 weeks pregnant, and things are going well.  For the first few weeks,  I was tired and quite nauseated.  I started taking antacid medicine b/c acid was making my throat swell and inhibiting, you know, swallowing...  and you know what?  It all but cured my nausea too!  Who knew?  So now I'm just left with tired and I can handle that through the art of occasional laziness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since about 7 weeks, I have been injecting heparin shots in my belly 2x a day.  I must admit that I somewhat enjoy the reaction that such a statement invokes.  The shots are simply precautionary b/c I have an inherited tendency to form blood clots, although, so far, so good.  The shots leave bruises all over my tummy that last forever... I'm talking, like, a year after the pregnancy is over.  But really, they don't hurt much at all and I don't mind them.  Really.  Maybe it makes me feel slightly brave since I used to be PETRIFIED of needles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On to more fun things.  I have a couple dear friends (Sarah and Lacie) who convinced me to drive with them to the Sandy mall at 14 weeks for an elective gender ultrasound.  What a great day!  By some miracle, Michael was able to take off work, so Lacie, Sarah, Michael, and all our kids hit the road.  I walked into that appointment with a VERY very VERY full bladder (partially loaded with OJ to wake the baby).  Things worked out beautifully as we could see the little 'it' clearly as it kicked, flipped, and waved.  Then 'it' showed us its royal boyhood and he will never be an 'it' again!   Well, that little guy is quite the trickster b/c myself, my parents, and most of my friends were duped and swore a girl was on her way.  Michael wore his blue shirt as he wholeheartedly rooted for the underdog.  He even won 5 dozen cookies in a few friendly gender wagers.  But the minute I saw his face (if you can call it that) in the sonogram, I had a feeling a boy was joining us and it just felt right.  So although I can't picture a boy (since our only boy looks very little like he belongs to us) and we're stumped on names, we are very excited to welcome Baby Boy Schaefer in mid April.  Although Quincy may still be hoping the doc was wrong.  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We finished off the exciting day with an afternoon at Jungle Jim's for the kids and we LOVED IT.  The kids rode the mini-amusement park rides again and again with no lines.  Quincy (my 3 year old) rode one super fast spinning ride again and again BY HERSELF.  In saying that, I mean THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE ON THE ENTIRE RIDE!  Where in the world can a 3 year old demand that a ride be put into motion just for her???!!  It was incredibly afforable and worth every penny.  Unless you are a germ-a-phobe.  At that point, it might NOT be worth every penny.  But hey, we wash hands and sanitize, and it's all good-ish.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We will welcome the baby in mid-April.  The doc said I'd need to deliver at 38-39 weeks due to my blood clotting thing.  April 21 is my actual due date.  Avery and Quincy want to name him so bad!  They have suggested everything from Jiggly-Puff to Kirby.  Uh, they won't have any say in that process.  Sorry kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-903583460084345140?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/903583460084345140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=903583460084345140' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/903583460084345140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/903583460084345140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/11/pregnancy-notes.html' title='Pregnancy Notes'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2724740580993759688</id><published>2010-08-05T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T13:26:47.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Exercise is a Four Letter Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFxvL-EciZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/2DEA6yc3NnQ/s1600/IMG_2497.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/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFxvL-EciZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/2DEA6yc3NnQ/s320/IMG_2497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502395096170793362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                       &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(b/c &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;is what I'd rather be doing.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have every excuse in the book not to exercise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. We can't afford fancy gym daycare.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Michael works a lot at 6 am and I'm not about to get up at 4.  I like (understatement) sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. I'm exhausted at night. Plus, its the only family time we get, so I'm not interested in leaving to bust my butt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. I pee my pants. Thanks to birthing Avery, I have moderately severe incontinence. Like I can't run, or do the elliptical, or walk too fast, or jump, or laugh, or lift too much, or get scared, or blah, blah, blitty, blah . . . without inking myself. It sure discourages me from parts of life. But when I'm determined, I diaper up and change often.  Cool.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. I HATE exercise videos b/c I'm sadly a modern girl who needs music, a book, or a movie to muscle through an hour of torture.  Sometimes I'll do them.  :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. I worked out for MONTHS with ZERO results. I dieted for MONTHS with ZILCH shrinking. I have lost a few pounds with drastic measures, but I quickly gained the weight back.  So now,  I'll start up again for a few weeks and think this time will be different, but I soon lose motivation (not pounds).  I still have hope something will work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; BUT, I laid in bed the other night praying and brainstorming, and here's what I got:  &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Exercise bike&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.  I did some research on how to get a good bike workout.  AND there's no pee, no gym, and no restrictive schedule.  Thank you Ollie for letting me borrow your bike while I figure out if it's worth a buy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I'm doing 50 minutes daily of sweaty, sweaty cardio (incorporating intervals).   And I'm doing Weight Watchers (again).  After 3 days of diet and biking (drumroll) ............. I have &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;gained&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; 2 pounds.  Sweet.  And I'm having flashbacks of past efforts. But of course its much too early to give up. You skinny folk might not understand, but sometimes, for some people, its not simply a matter of cals in and cals out. Cross my fat heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2724740580993759688?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2724740580993759688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2724740580993759688' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2724740580993759688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2724740580993759688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/08/exercise-is-four-letter-word.html' title='Exercise is a Four Letter Word'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFxvL-EciZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/2DEA6yc3NnQ/s72-c/IMG_2497.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3847446438766635315</id><published>2010-08-03T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T22:48:40.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I have to do is DREAM, DREAM, DREAM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFj-DHBAZ3I/AAAAAAAAAME/MS0bT_77Ihw/s1600/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFj-DHBAZ3I/AAAAAAAAAME/MS0bT_77Ihw/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501426274209392498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been urged by some friends and family to blog more.  'Bout what, though?  Well, lets talk about my dream world.  In no particular order, I give you, kind folks, an abbreviated list of some of the loveliness I plan to attain!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I'm thin an&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;d&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; fit.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  Phew!  What a struggle THAT's been, for the last 3 years especially.  SOMETHING in my body has changed dramatically.  Screw age!  Damn genetics!  Curses to weird bodily ailments and mysteries!  But I've got a new resolve and I'm gonna make something happen!  I might have to work out twice as hard and eat half as much as normal folk, but if that's what I have to do, I'll do it!!!  (Now watch me get pregnant finally.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I live in a pretty house in the country.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/span&gt; That's new for me.  I've always been a city girl b/c I like consumer-ing so very much.  But, I have discovered that I want a quiet peace away from too many neighbors.  I don't want to keep up with Jones' either.  I want to feel safe and let my kids run outside all day.  And I want that house to be modest.  Crisp, classic, and average. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'm rich.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; LOAD-ED.  But no one knows it.  I'm able to give and give and give, mostly anonymously.  So we live in a well-kept medium size house, have a couple almost new cars, employ a bit of help in the house and yard, and travel all over the world.  Even our children are not aware of our wealth, and will not be &lt;i&gt;excessively&lt;/i&gt; spoiled.  Oh, and Michael doesn't have to work long hours since he pays other people (generously) to do his bidding.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;My parents live RIGHT next door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  My dad and I garden together.  My kids run between houses as they please.  We see Michael's side of the family more b/c we don't have to travel to see my folks.  My mom and I cook all natural, organic-y meals together.  And we exercise together.  And of course shop together.  I work on their feet to keep them in the best of health.  Michael and I even get to go on the occasional date (EVEN OVERNIGHT) b/c we have 2 fabulous sitters next door.  Okay, one fabulous one.  Dad needs some coaching there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;We have 4-6 kids.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  Or maybe more.  Because it's dream world and our kids are swell and we're ridiculously marvelous parents.  So we have loads of fun, witty, smart, gorgeous, loving, helpful, healthy, faithful, obedient children.  We eat meals together, vacation together, worship together, and laugh all the day long.  My kids are over-achievers, but are not over-scheduled.  Loads of friends think of our house as their second home b/c we keep an open door to all (ish).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;That's enough dreaming for now.  As if I'm a child, I naively believe the world can be mine.  Stay tuned.  You'll see.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3847446438766635315?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3847446438766635315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3847446438766635315' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3847446438766635315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3847446438766635315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/08/all-i-have-to-do-is-dream-dream-dream.html' title='All I have to do is DREAM, DREAM, DREAM'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TFj-DHBAZ3I/AAAAAAAAAME/MS0bT_77Ihw/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5949458155953244790</id><published>2010-07-27T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T10:35:19.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YUR4DkYI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qLy_OS2M01k/s1600/p11888ta102023_31.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YUR4DkYI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qLy_OS2M01k/s320/p11888ta102023_31.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498640406717632898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YTx1TIgI/AAAAAAAAAL0/p_Ynz3qkvys/s1600/p11888ta102023_18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YTx1TIgI/AAAAAAAAAL0/p_Ynz3qkvys/s320/p11888ta102023_18.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498640398116135426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YTQ_MUNI/AAAAAAAAALs/4O_sB0h6-4w/s1600/p11888ta102023_17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YTQ_MUNI/AAAAAAAAALs/4O_sB0h6-4w/s320/p11888ta102023_17.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498640389299261650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YS61IccI/AAAAAAAAALk/7X6gJOW3ZGY/s1600/p11888ta102023_16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YS61IccI/AAAAAAAAALk/7X6gJOW3ZGY/s320/p11888ta102023_16.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498640383351484866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YSlcs7nI/AAAAAAAAALc/WdZZef18WfQ/s1600/p11888ta102023_14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YSlcs7nI/AAAAAAAAALc/WdZZef18WfQ/s320/p11888ta102023_14.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498640377611873906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5949458155953244790?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5949458155953244790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5949458155953244790' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5949458155953244790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5949458155953244790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/TE8YUR4DkYI/AAAAAAAAAL8/qLy_OS2M01k/s72-c/p11888ta102023_31.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-4162890185016987689</id><published>2010-02-18T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T14:54:58.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buwahahahaha (evil laugh with hands rubbing together in plot)</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is a copy of the letter I received (in scroll form) on my birthday last week.  Michael's so fun :)  I have to say that I was pretty easy on him, considering the power in my hands!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:webdings, serif;"&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:webdings, serif;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;Happy Birthday my sweet lil’ Summerlicious!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;I am so happy its your special day, but so sorry were broke! And since we have no money to get presents for each other this year, I wanted to give you something money can’t buy!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;You are my Queen, and I LOVE YOU SO MUCH that I would do anything for you.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So that’s exactly what you are getting today, on your very special spoiling day – ANYTHING YOU WANT!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you want me to clean house, done. If you want me to cook food, the oven is on.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you want me to scrub toilets, I got the brush!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you want a back massage, or to play with your hair, or to rub your feet, or to mop the floor, or to do laundry, paint your toenails, snuggle with you, or anything at all, I’m your man.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will dance for you, sing for you, write you a song, mince vegetables, clean the garage, act like an animal, shower you with hugs and kisses, jump for you, roll in the snow for you, (nekkid if you so desire), or even go shopping for you! I will take you out shopping, (yah, I said it twice), out to a movie, to the library, to run errands, or out on a cruise. If you want a ride on me back like a horse, I will make horse sounds. If you want to sleep all day long, I will make sure you are not disturbed.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will do the dishes, take care of the kids, floss your teeth, draw you a bath, or even lick your toes!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll read you a book, vacuum the floors, or paint the walls, or change light bulbs. I will shovel snow, rearrange furniture, sit and talk about life and dreams, or build you anything you want. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;So what I’m trying to say is, TODAY IS YOUR DAY because you deserve anything you want, AND I WILL DO WHATEVER, (anything), YOU WANT.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am your SLAVE FOR THE DAY!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because you are my Queen and I will do anything for you because I love you so much!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;Time is running! You better start making some demands, my QUEEN!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;Yours truly,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt;Michael Slaver, your Slave.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Apple Chancery&amp;quot;;mso-ansi-language:EN-US"&gt;P.S. I know you should be treated like a Queen EVERYDAY, and I’ll try to be better at that. But at least for today, you will be a queen all day!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-4162890185016987689?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/4162890185016987689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=4162890185016987689' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/4162890185016987689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/4162890185016987689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-great-day.html' title='Buwahahahaha (evil laugh with hands rubbing together in plot)'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-8020242711850489741</id><published>2010-02-01T15:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T21:59:02.855-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion, Frustration, and Hypocrisy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;(Warning:  Stop reading unless you want way too much information into my personal life.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ahhhh life.  Lately I'm feeling very wrapped up inside my own head.  We've had an awful, terrible, horrendous year financially.  And I've tried to do the right things, like support the husband, live within our means, swallow pride, put family first, and keep perspective.  I have not been able to afford eating out, or dates, or sitters, or gifts, or make-up.  We eradicated most every luxury we could.  (I say most... you see that we still have internet).  At the worst, I have been so broke that I wondered where the diapers, toilet paper, deodorant and rent would come from.  And I have all these awful thoughts, like... I'm better than that.  Like, I'm 31 and should own a house.  Like, I'm too good to swipe my food card in the grocery line.  Like I &lt;i&gt;deserve&lt;/i&gt; more.  For months I have gone to the store and bought food (thank you Uncle Sam) and NOTHING more.  We made do.   And then I cracked.  I just bought what we needed and some things I wanted... on credit.  Credit we couldn't afford.  Dumb.  Now we're back to square one, but with debt on top of our woes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And while I might be feeling somewhere close to bitter today, I should be feeling grateful.  God himself has kept a roof over our heads and food in our mouths.  We're all clothed, clean, warm, and healthy.  And I absolutely adore my little family.  I hear stories of true poverty and suffering, so how can I complain?  Haiti, India, Guatemala...  I live in &lt;b&gt;America&lt;/b&gt; where our standard of living is so high that because my wants aren't met, I am pitied.  If I lived in a 3rd world country, our lifestyle would exceed all those around me.  I deserve no more than anyone on this planet.  I try to remember that, and most of the time I do... but today, hmmm... .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm tired.  I'm tired of the uncertainty, the instability.  I'm tired of my husband working sooooo hard at multiple jobs for next to NOTHING.  Running a business can blow... but the rainbow we're chasing is always just around the corner.  And really, the corporate ladder rarely offers opportunities for greatness.  'Yes sir.  No sir.  May I have a raise, sir?'  I absolutely respect that world and it certainly offers more security, but it's just not for Michael.  He dreams big.  So I hang on.  By my teeth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is supposed to be hard, right?  But I feel confused... and sad inside about that.  I KNOW God exists, and I KNOW he hears my prayers, but I don't understand His will and timing.  Why did my friend's baby have to die?  Why haven't we made money yet?  Why can't my parents live by me?  Why do I have the MOST annoying health issues that make me the Good Year Blimp who may or may not have ripped through the bums of two pairs of pj pants this month?  I'm such a hypocrite.  I pray that the Lord will spare us from real, true tragedy... and He does.  I let Him know that I'm willing to learn life's lessons through other means, so bring it on... and He does.  So WHY in the world do I feel any sort of frustration, confusion, or hypocrisy?  I have no right.  The nerve of myself!  Uh, note to self:  Reroute to gratitude.  Reroute dang-it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I hope to be the subject of an incredible rags-to-riches story someday.  And I hope to be the most generous, humble, and kind sort of rich folk.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-8020242711850489741?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/8020242711850489741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=8020242711850489741' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8020242711850489741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8020242711850489741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2010/02/confusion-frustration-and-hypocrisy.html' title='Confusion, Frustration, and Hypocrisy'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1146910817930740368</id><published>2009-12-03T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T09:28:49.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM A WITCH DOCTOR!!!   but seriously.</title><content type='html'>Long story.  A surprising twist to my life.  Where to start.  So a good friend of mine (Sarah C.) went to see a "Renewist" and recommended I do the same.  I was uninsured, battling with health annoyances, and just plain curious, so early in '09, I went to see Jamie,  a SureFooted Health Renewist.  I guess its like Reflexology on 'roids.  She was amazing and I was amazed.  She did these moves on  my feet and proceeded to tell me all about MY medical history.  It felt like voo-doo, but it was so scientific and specific.  She knew I had bladder problems (thank you Avery), knew my back was sore (thank you car accident) and even knew I was having current food allergies in my throat (thank you OJ).  She was dead-on with her observations.  BUT, would it help FIX my maladies?  Okay, sit down for some TMI.  The very main reason I went in was because I have struggled with anxiety bad for a few years now.  It has been constant since Quincy was born.  Meds took the edge off, but I was tired of the drugs.  And they kept me fat.  SERIOUSLY, after she was done working her magic, I felt great.  Balanced.  Peaceful.  Palpably so.  It lasted about 4 days.  I went again.  Lasted about a week.  Went again.  Lasted a couple weeks.  Went again and it lasted a month.  Wow!  WOW!  I felt like  myself again.  &lt;div&gt;THEN life hit.  HARD.  Michael is self-employed.  Around April, his business could only stay alive by cutting us off the payroll.  So we lived off savings for a while.  When they ran out, we struggled for life, for air, for sanity.  Ironically, right before all this went down, I decided to cold turkey any meds I was on.  You know, since I was doing so good.  But then... STRESS!  And no money to see Jamie!  So I went to a very hard place.  Anxiety attacks, even panic attacks.  I felt TERRIBLY unsafe.  I could not see the light of day.  I was a beast.  Cool.  Michael felt strongly that he should be the one to provide for us.  I felt the same.  However, his job search was slow going.  He needed to find a job that would pay the bills and still allow him to keep working at his own business (you know, for free).  It was a tall order in this economy.  I do have a degree, although arguably useless (History).  If I did put my education to work, I would have to leave in the day and I REFUSED to put my kids in daycare.  I'm super over-protective that way.  I filled out loads of night job applications, but again couldn't kick the feeling that Michael was to get the job.  With nothing short of a miracle, he landed a 2nd job at Pepperide Farms loading freight early in the mornings.  The hours and pay were perfect to pull us through.  I was so proud of him for putting aside pride and sticking with his dreams at the same time.  He works 2 jobs now, and it takes its toll, but he gets to keep building his business dream and he pays the bills. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, as we began to pull out of that mess, I decided to get back on meds.  I had to.  No choice.  Fatty or not.  I had no money to pay for the voo-doo.  Being on a better medicine this time, I began to think clearly.  As I assessed the last couple months, I knew that I couldn't ever stand to feel so helpless again.  I needed a trade.  Something I could fall back on and pick up immediately if I didn't know how to buy TP again.  I considered hair, massage, esthetics, you name it.  But what really kept coming to mind was my trips to Jamie.  I wanted that skill.  I wanted that knowledge on so many levels.  I wanted to be able to keep my family, my loved ones, and myself healthy.  I wanted an escape route from the meds.  As I looked back, I felt so strongly that recent events were acutely designed to lead me to this part of my life.  A path I NEVER would have chosen on my own.  So with the help of my parents, I enrolled in the same school Jamie had attended.  I graduated in November and it has changed my life.  Not only did I learn that foot magic (AMAZING), but I also learned so much about the body, food, herbs, oils, etc... .  I have become THAT girl.  That crazy girl who would rather try natural remedies first and who has an essential oil for that and who wants to look at your feet and see what's wrong.  I am that girl who is loading her family with veggies and decreasing the milk and meat significantly.  I am even that girl who is making WHOLE WHEAT bread for health purposes and who NEEDS a Vita-mix so I can make green smoothies.  I AM THAT GIRL.  And I plan on being that girl for life.  I love what I do, the things I know, and how I feel about taking care of our bodies.  I even learned to love my body (despite its imperfections) because it has been good to me and every day a million trillion things work together miraculously to keep me alive.  I struggle trying to find time to do my own feet, but when I do, my chronic conditions immediately improve.  I'm certain that when I do commit to work on myself, I won't even pee my pants anymore!  So there you go!  I AM A WITCH DOCTOR!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1146910817930740368?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1146910817930740368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1146910817930740368' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1146910817930740368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1146910817930740368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-am-witch-doctor-but-seriously.html' title='I AM A WITCH DOCTOR!!!   but seriously.'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-7836324333783249463</id><published>2009-05-31T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T20:10:59.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Mom with Cute Kids.  I'm Obligated to Post Pics.</title><content type='html'>I don't do enough picture posts.  So here's some in honor of the tykes who run our world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ2N6hIPHI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Jpn84fGoKBI/s1600-h/IMG_4595.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ2N6hIPHI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Jpn84fGoKBI/s200/IMG_4595.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351461869897399410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ2OfjwuCI/AAAAAAAAAKM/EDgIrftXmps/s200/IMG_4781.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351461879840552994" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ4zPbq5FI/AAAAAAAAAKk/L1iKqyKm4S4/s200/IMG_4782.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464710190064722" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avery and Quincy are starting (kinda sorta) to be good buddies.  Avery loves pretending, which means Quincy does too.  Can you guess who's who?  Hint:  Avery's the one who stays in character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SiMnD629xSI/AAAAAAAAAJs/35fOoMP4xu8/s1600-h/IMG_5013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SiMnD629xSI/AAAAAAAAAJs/35fOoMP4xu8/s200/IMG_5013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342156531284428066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ2ONiZ4ZI/AAAAAAAAAKE/MKd0T1HUnms/s200/IMG_4643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351461875003023762" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cute kids, huh.  That's all I have to say about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SiMnDMHGrfI/AAAAAAAAAJU/PTDht5A8nqo/s200/IMG_4869.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342156518735654386" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ4y9HRweI/AAAAAAAAAKc/9ulcpEyU2EI/s200/IMG_4841.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351464705272693218" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SiMXzrGXcGI/AAAAAAAAAI8/EIND9fIGVe0/s200/IMG_4803.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342139759501733986" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quincy tags along for every adventure Avery creates, and as if she's an acquired taste, Avery's starting to dig it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-7836324333783249463?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/7836324333783249463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=7836324333783249463' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/7836324333783249463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/7836324333783249463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-mom-with-cute-kids-im-obligated-to.html' title='I&apos;m a Mom with Cute Kids.  I&apos;m Obligated to Post Pics.'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SkQ2N6hIPHI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Jpn84fGoKBI/s72-c/IMG_4595.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5007453676798671651</id><published>2009-05-08T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T14:05:29.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight Lovers &amp; Haters, Can't We All Just Get Along?</title><content type='html'>So WHAT you might ask is getting me off my duff to post???  WELL, CHECK IT OUT.  We made some great friends in Hawaii, Mandy and Jake Kongaika, and Jake is an AMAZING musician.  Serious, raw talent, all bias aside.  Sort of a Jack Johnson/Coldplay vibe.  I LOVE attending his concerts and he's seen a decent amount of success.  I truly believe that for him its a matter of getting the word out, because once you hear it, you love it.  So...onto Twilight.  I read the books.  I enjoyed them.  I watched the movie.  I enjoyed it.  I don't fit into either the obsession or the loathe category.  Believe it or not, there are people who fall in the middle.  Mandy, on the other hand IS obsessed with Twilight (stay with me here).  She's been suggesting Jake write a song for it.  He's never read it and has been hesitant.  She reminded him of a song he's written, but hadn't recorded that would be ABSOLUTELY perfect for a New Moon soundtrack.  I'm talking PERFECT!   You'll know what I'm talking about if you read the book.  I was so excited when I heard him play it.  So I've been pushing too because I believe New Moon is putting together its tracks right now.  Might be a long shot, but Mandy sent the song to a head of an organization with some influence in the Twilight world (Twilight Moms).  The lady LOVED it, despite getting requests like this all the time.  Mesmerized was her word.  Twi-Mom lady sent it on to her connections in the Meyer camp and we'll see.  So here I am trying to create a buzz in my lil' circle and spread the song around and get opinions.  So if you like the song, let me know... or post it on your own forum (FB, MySpace, blog, whatever).  Its just a rough take right now, but it still rocks.  Imagine it more intense and haunting.  He's working on recording a prof. version right now.  Check out his website too (its on my side bar).  I know some of you in my circle are Twilight haters (Tawnya, Ollie) BUT Jake rocks and deserves a break, vampire style or not.  So pump it up and have a listen!!! &lt;a href="http://www.thesixtyone.com/cubworld/song/50931/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thesixtyone.com/cubworld/song/50931/"&gt;http://www.thesixtyone.com/cubworld/song/50931/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5007453676798671651?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5007453676798671651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5007453676798671651' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5007453676798671651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5007453676798671651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/05/twilight-lovers-or-haters-come-one-come.html' title='Twilight Lovers &amp; Haters, Can&apos;t We All Just Get Along?'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1502103579801833029</id><published>2009-04-23T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T17:18:04.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CRAP!</title><content type='html'>What happened to my sweet little girl????  She's as stubborn as she is smart-which is a personality trait we can't imagine having in the Schaefer household.  And for the past two days, she has gotten herself into some "messes".   So I walked into her room when I heard her awake in the morning, and I see her diaper on the floor and her shirt in a half off twisted mess.  But assaulting my senses was the ominous smell of POO.  I cautiously approach the crip, hoping my nose has betrayed me, but I do know poo, and there it was--  a couple brown treats smeared on the sheets.  WHY???  WHY WHY WHY??????&lt;br /&gt;The very next day, I gave her a piece of chocolate.  She wanted more.  I declined.  Well, she's a persistent little gal.  She found a grocery bag housing a poopy diaper and she pulled out a small chocolate football inside.  Seriously.  She brought it up to me with a disgusted look on her face.  I had no idea what was transpiring, so I examined the mysterious brown ball closely.  CRAP!  It was a ball of crap!  And it had her teeth marks in it!!!!  WHY?????&lt;br /&gt;Within a couple hours, she had once again pulled off a diaper, this time with poo in it and rubbed her poo-bum on the floor!  WHYYYYYYYY?????????  &lt;br /&gt;Please don't be indicative of the days to come.   Please don't indicative of the days to come.  Please don't be indicative of the days to come.  &lt;br /&gt;Come back to me my sweet easy innocent attitude-less girl!  Come back.  Eh, at least she'll have her good looks and genius to get her through life.  Even if she has a poo obsession.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1502103579801833029?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1502103579801833029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1502103579801833029' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1502103579801833029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1502103579801833029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/04/crap.html' title='CRAP!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-9036204474300967088</id><published>2009-03-13T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T11:43:01.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversations with my minors</title><content type='html'>Avery had a scratch on his chest.  He sees it in the mirror and comes out of the bathroom sulking:&lt;br /&gt;"Avery's broken."&lt;br /&gt;Oh, no!  What happened?&lt;br /&gt;"I got a scratch.  Avery's broken.  You need to get a new Avery."&lt;br /&gt;Where do we get a new Avery?&lt;br /&gt;"At the store."&lt;br /&gt;What do we do with the old Avery? &lt;br /&gt;"I dunno.  Feed him to the monsters."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quincy (my 19 month old, by the way) took off her diaper and began running around the house yelling, "I'm naked!  I'm naked!"  Avery stripped and joined her.  I let the naked party roll for a few minutes when all of the sudden I hear Quincy call for me.  And what do I see in her room?  A big turd.  Nice Quincy.  So I say, "Oh, no!  Quincy, this doesn't make me happy.  You pooped!"  She replies, "Daddy did it."  &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, really?  Daddy did it?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy didn't do it."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Lacie did it."&lt;br /&gt;"Lacie pooped on the floor?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;"Quincy, Lacie didn't poop on the floor."&lt;br /&gt;"Dave did it."&lt;br /&gt;"Dave pooped on the floor?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.  Dave pooped on the floor."&lt;br /&gt;"Quincy, I think you pooped on the floor."&lt;br /&gt;"Dave did it.  Dave did it.  Dave did it."&lt;br /&gt;"Quincy pooped on the floor."&lt;br /&gt;"Lacie did it.  Avery did it.  Dave did it."&lt;br /&gt;I even called Lacie and put her on speaker and Quincy continued to sell her out.  I guess I should have a talk with Dave, Lacie, Michael, and Avery and ask them to PLEASE not poop on my floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-9036204474300967088?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/9036204474300967088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=9036204474300967088' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/9036204474300967088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/9036204474300967088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/03/conversations-with-my-minors.html' title='Conversations with my minors'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-8753763652864271231</id><published>2009-02-19T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T12:29:45.271-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rockin' White Trash Bash!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/lightbox.swf" name="gw110785" flashvars="gW=110785&amp;amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;amp;aC=42cddc&amp;amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowscriptaccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="365" height="274"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael and I both have February birthdays, and we've been wanting to have a White Trash themed party, so we threw our own WT bash.  It pretty much butt-rocked.  Hot Dang!  Ollie, our cake-friend expert made us the most amazing trailer cake, complete with Christmas lights, a free kittens sign, cinder blocks with weeds growing up, the mailbox propped in tires, rickety stairs, broken lattice work, and a crooked TV antennae!  The party had plenty of make-up, big hair, greasy food, Twinkies, mullets, acid wash, doilies, fake teeth, Nascar, a trashed front yard, a simmering bbq grill, 80's rock music, and Jerry Springer clips in the background.  I sported big hair, fake tats, obnoxious make-up, light up heels, rockin' jeans, and a fake name (Trixie Bell).  Everyone got a special name for the party.  Think Earlene, Cletus, Bobbie Jean, Cooter, Pervis, etc... .  Mike sported a wife beater, another shirt with eagles, nasty facial hair, and bleached pants.  Lacie had huge groupie hair, heavy makeup, a hot pink animal print tank, and overalls.  Dave came with a mullet, a tight t-shirt, and droopy shorts with King of the Hill boxers exposed.  Emily took the time to Bedazzle a rockin jean vest.  She wore a jean skirt, tights, leg warmers, a high pony tail, and colorific make-up.  Mike D. sported a polyester green leisure suit, a mullet, and fake teeth.  Ollie ripped up some tights for her armwear, wore an off the shoulder sweatshirt, had loads of make-up, and rocked a hot pink sash.  Joe rocked a shirt that said "Mom likes me best" and detailed the outfit with his Nascar hat.  Elisha showed off her prego belly for the first time with a tight shirt and propped a ponytail on the tip top of her head.  Oh, and we can't forget Andrew's braided rattail made out of a lock of Elisha's hair.  He also had a crazy shaved beard and a mechanic shirt with his name on it.  Melissa showed up with HUGE hair, and for the record, it's real.  She also had fancy blue eye-shadow like most of the other girls.  Kev had a nice mullet, crazy facial hair, and flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off.  Brittany wore a shirt that showed her "belly" and could fly away with those wings in her hair.  We had awards, raffles, and contests (Hostess eating, arm wresting).  We even had an impromtu harmonica jammin ho down, thank you Mike D.  We assigned everyone a humorous conviction and took mug shots.  Then we moved on to glamour shots with an bling bling back drop.  Everybody stayed amazingly in their white trash persona.  Especially Michael.  He got me wondering if he's "acting" normal on a daily basis and his white trash character wasn't a charade at all!  We laughed pretty darn hard for drinking IBC's!  Check out the bash with our don't forget to click the arrow next to the pics for more.  You can also make them bigger by clicking them, and its probably worth your time.  Yee-haw!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-8753763652864271231?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/8753763652864271231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=8753763652864271231' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8753763652864271231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8753763652864271231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/02/michael-and-i-both-have-february.html' title='Rockin&apos; White Trash Bash!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3074574241589443862</id><published>2009-02-04T11:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:53:59.724-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wall Decor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwx41DDeI/AAAAAAAAAIc/j6FEtpkHdFM/s1600-h/IMG_4039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwx41DDeI/AAAAAAAAAIc/j6FEtpkHdFM/s200/IMG_4039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299031176437239266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxtGhbyI/AAAAAAAAAIU/27Z6nnitDYY/s1600-h/IMG_4038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxtGhbyI/AAAAAAAAAIU/27Z6nnitDYY/s200/IMG_4038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299031173289307938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxrex_cI/AAAAAAAAAIM/JepmysYcyUs/s1600-h/IMG_4040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxrex_cI/AAAAAAAAAIM/JepmysYcyUs/s200/IMG_4040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299031172854185410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxcLY7PI/AAAAAAAAAIE/m7LSi5BEh6s/s1600-h/IMG_4036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwxcLY7PI/AAAAAAAAAIE/m7LSi5BEh6s/s200/IMG_4036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299031168746319090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rent.  We don't love our place, but its all we could find at the time.  We're hoping to buy soon, but because its not our home, I haven't been motivated to decorate.  Well, now we've been here a year and a half and its time to beautify.  Apparently Michael and I were on the same page, because on Christmas morning, we surprised each other with similar pictures in similar frames.  So we did some exchanging and rearranging, and here is the final wall product.  It makes me feel grown up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3074574241589443862?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3074574241589443862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3074574241589443862' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3074574241589443862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3074574241589443862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-rent.html' title='Wall Decor'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SYnwx41DDeI/AAAAAAAAAIc/j6FEtpkHdFM/s72-c/IMG_4039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-8015854181651777096</id><published>2009-01-02T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T12:05:14.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quincy 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/bounce.swf" name="gw104515" FlashVars="gW=104515&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=000000&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="319"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who have been keeping up on the Schaefer courses, it is time for Quincy 101.  Quincy weirds me out.  She's a 17 month old with the mind of a three year old stuck in a 12 month old's body.  She's pretty amazing.  The jury's still out on whether she's a genius, a master mimicker, or just highly motivated.  I cannot begin to name the things she says, but I'll try:&lt;br /&gt;make-up, Spider man, Wall-E,  ni-night, Avery, Summer, Michael, Avy's sad, kitty, doggie, woof-woof, horsie, bird, fishy, elephant, cow, moo, no monkey bed, airplane, go bye-bye, get down, get out, Bapa (grandpa), Mommy, Daddy, baby, walk, eyes, nose, boob, mouth, foot, no, yes, okay, I want apple juice, eat, food, water, Lacie, Ollie, Sam, Jack, socks, shoes, hat, light, hug, kiss, I'm stuck, I'm sick, broke, fix it, watch this, jump, spin, slide, cookie, candy, donuts, cup, book, medicine, hug, kiss, this, that, and (my favorite) I dunno.  &lt;br /&gt;Not that she says these words perfectly, but they are definitely discernible.  I LOVE baby speak.  She even constructs brief sentences such as "I wanna sit up there."&lt;br /&gt;She also answers almost every question in some fashion.  Do you want to eat?  Yes.  Do you want to go to bed?  No?  What are you doing?  I dunno.  You can't have that.  Why?&lt;br /&gt;I suppose she's been ahead in the game since she was born on July 23, 2007... with TWO TEETH!!!  One had to be pulled because it was loose.  How weird is that!  &lt;br /&gt;She's been walking since she was ten months and is very steady on her feet.  She climbs on everything and has been doing stairs since then (virtually) without incident.  When she had just turned  a year, she had enough prowess to climb up those huge blow up slides and slide down all by herself.  Repeatedly.  She has no fear.&lt;br /&gt;She already plays pretend.  She will pretend to be a dog.  She barks, and crawls around carrying a shoe in her mouth, all while taking orders from Avery to sit and lay for treats.  She also has asked me to put her baby doll to ni-night and feed it.&lt;br /&gt;Not to be out done by Avery, Quincy will say "Watch this!" and proceed to do a "trick" of sorts such as stomping her feet or putting her head to the ground.  She's hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;One of my new favorite antics occurs at bedtime.  Michael asked Quincy to say the prayer, so she folded her arms and bowed her head and muttered something.  Then she lifted her head and said, "What?"  I responded that she needed to say "Amen."  So she threw open her arms and yelled "AMEN!"  Talk about adorable.  She now participates in family prayer rotation.&lt;br /&gt;We think she might have been accidentally switched at birth.  Not because of the genius.  We know where she got that, but because of the stubbornness.  No idea where that came from.  She will do anything to avoid sleep.  She has this amazing glare she gives when she's not happy.  She also has a supernatural way of making someone hold her by climbing up their hold or doing a monkey hold.  She has recently been known to hit or head butt to get her way.&lt;br /&gt;Quincy LOVES people.  She goes to almost any adult that comes over and snuggles in their arms.  It's quite flattering.  She does it a bit during church, making rounds to the adults for snuggle time. &lt;br /&gt;She's also obsessed with her big brother.  She follows him around all day trying to do exactly what he does.  I wish I could say that he loved every minute of it.  &lt;br /&gt;One cannot talk of Quincy without mentioning food.  Food is her friend.  Maybe her BFF.  She'll eat almost anything.  If you've got food, you've also got a little friend in your lap.  On Christmas morning, she just kept repeating, "Nandy!  Nonuts!  Nandy!  Nonuts!"  &lt;br /&gt;Oh for crying out loud I almost forgot the very most important thing you need to know about Quincy:  She has a crazy natural growing mullet.  And I KNOW where she got that from!!!  Can't win 'em all!&lt;br /&gt;Quincy Lyn Schaefer is sooooo adorable and fabulous and an addition that we just couldn't live without!  We sure love her!  What?  What's that I hear?  I think its the bell.  Go home.  There's nothing else to see here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-8015854181651777096?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/8015854181651777096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=8015854181651777096' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8015854181651777096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8015854181651777096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2009/01/quincy-101.html' title='Quincy 101'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2015075202340018905</id><published>2008-12-21T15:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T12:36:59.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/book.swf" name="gw103337" FlashVars="gW=103337&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=3e3e3e&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="413" height="389"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right about now I wish I could still say Mele Kalikimaka!  We are certainly having a white Christmas this year.  In my old age, I have come to accept certain limitations, one of which is that I am incapable of sending out Christmas cards.  However, with the miracle of blogging now in my life, I can post a cyber Christmas card and rid myself of any guilt I may have been carrying each time I opened the mailbox and found another card from a dear old friend.&lt;br /&gt;We have had a very good year in the Schaefer household. We are quite happy in Logan and in our current situations,  While all of our celebretory days in 2007 seemed to be jinxed, 2008 proved the opposite and we partied hardy all year long.  Birthdays and  holidays were filled with family, friends, food, and fun.  We were able to see extended family on both sides many times this year.  Because of this, our children are well aware that other people like them as much as we do.  We're hoping for a repeat next year.&lt;br /&gt;Michael has enjoyed and excelled in his job.  We are so proud of him and his business partner Dave for building a business from scratch that can sustain us and allow me (and Dave's wife Lacie) to stay home with the kids.  He loves what he does and hopes to never work for "the man" again.  His internet based recruiting business has undergone some changes due to the economy, but they have rolled with the punches and we're still doing fine.  For now, instead of recruiting truckers, they recruit health care workers.  They named their new business Cebola (which means "onion" in Portugese) but they thought it sounded cool and medical-like-ish.  Hopefully the healthcare industry will be more economy proof.  Michael spends most of his spare time shopping.  Oh, wait, that's not him.  He spends most of his spare time with the family.  He is an extremely fun and attentive husband and father.  He's hoping in 2009 he'll be able to delve into past hobbies such as photography and  sculpture.&lt;br /&gt;Summer spends her days at home with the kids and most days she loves it.  This year she got a bit better at juggling a productive life with two kids, although that is not to insinuate that she makes herself presentable daily.  She likes to shop and gets a kick out of finding bargains.  Its the only talent she's willing to develop.  She has a handful of fabulous friends here in Logan, so many days are filled with them and their children.  She continues to try to wish her parents out of Florida.  So far its not working, but at least at the moment they have come to spend the holidays with her.  She's still the same outspoken, quirky, all over the place Summer.&lt;br /&gt;Avery is three and a half and growing up so fast.  In fact, he just informed Grandma of that.  "I getting really big.  I don't touch boobs anymore."  And its true.  He doesn't.  Usually.  And he's potty trained.  I should capitalize that.  AVERY'S POTTY  TRAINED.  He was just ready, so he pretty much did it on his own.  That's how he rolls.   He's so sweet (especially when sugar is void in his system).  He tells us many times a day: "I sure love you.  And that makes you happy."  He's right, it does.  He keeps us laughing all day long with his boy-ness.  He watches lots of Disney movies and acts out the parts.  He also memorizes books to read to us.  Avery is sooooo excited for Christmas.  He wants fish candy, Christmas cookies, cake, and green soda more than anything.  Oh, and a pink toilet. &lt;br /&gt;Quincy is a bit of a freak of nature.  I mean that in the nicest way.  She's tiny for her 17 months, but speaks like a 2 year old.  I can only begin to list the things she says: "I'm sick", "Avery's sad", "Summer!", "medicine", "I don't know", "Amen", "okay", "I want out", "I'm stuck", "I dunno", "Where's Daddy?", "make-up", ETC... .  I remember being excited that Avery said "lights" at her age during the holidays.  She is so independent, friendly, opinionated, and snuggly.  She's already used the potty a couple times after telling us she had to go.  She's pretty much amazing.  I'll post more of an update on her when I make a Quincy 101.&lt;br /&gt;We've had a fabulous and fun Christmas season filled with baking, shopping, tree decorating, gathering pine-cones in pj's, ugly-Christmas sweater work party, Grandparents, and stray cats.  Fabulous. Fabulous.  Fabulous.  Except that we were supposed to go see my brother Shane and his family in Las Vegas, and due to a blizzard with impeccable timing, we remained in the land of Mormons.  Sad.  Grandma has helped out with every aspect of this busy holiday season, including reminding me to teach our children the Christmas story and its true meaning (via a nativity set and books). Its easy to get so busy that we forget our Savior.  So I guess it was in the true Christmas spirit that Grandpa "adopted" stray cats for us.  Grandpa started by putting out warm milk and leftovers for the cats.  Then he decided to cut a door in a cardboard box and include a blanket.  Then of course the box needed weather-proofed with plastic wrap.  Grandpa then decided to purchase a heating light and a candle warmer to keep them warm in the snow.  A stray kitty home wouldn't be complete without an outdoor thermometer to monitor how cold their home gets. So our kids sit and watch the cats from the safety of our sliding glass door.  Its all very adorable.&lt;br /&gt;We wish our many loved ones happiness, joy, peace, prosperity, and goodness, all of which are achieved through our Savior Jesus Christ.  Happy Birthday-ish to Him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2015075202340018905?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2015075202340018905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2015075202340018905' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2015075202340018905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2015075202340018905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1917309883879926919</id><published>2008-12-03T16:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T09:48:20.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Avery 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/shift.swf" name="gw100204" FlashVars="gW=100204&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=cb140c&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="375" height="225"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;If you're interested in your Schaefer BS degree, you need to become proficient in the most fabulous little boy ever:  Avery.  He's pretty much amazing and very unique.  He was born August 24, 2005 (a month early) with an alarmingly blue swollen face.  It wasn't cute.  He shocked Michael and I with his dark brown hair and long dark lashes.  Avery was opinionated from day one.  He was adamant about being held, snuggled, and nursed most of the day.  When I had to leave him as a baby, Michael would hold him with a worn shirt of mine and he would stop crying.  It seemed that when our friends came over, he was on his worst behavior (esp. if those friends were considering having children... Mike and Rozel).  He used to make some elongated goat bleat.  It was adorably strange, especially during the silent moments at church. People commented everyday on how beautiful he was.  Absolutely everyday.  Except they usually said "she" was gorgeous.  Cool.  He could have been a twin to the Gerber baby.  He has two crazy cowlicks bordering his Eddie Munster widow's peak.  It's endearing.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Avery was a baby with impeccable timing.  He would have a poop blowout right before church (regularly), he would belch in the middle of prayers (remember Schaefers?), and he would spit up (almost exclusively) on store floors.  He has the most infectious laugh I've ever heard to this day.  From an absurdly early age, Avery was mimicking the noises and movements of animals, even obscure ones like lemurs.  He performed on demand until he realized that's what we wanted.  He knew a lot of words in sign language too.  Avery's never been a good sleeper.  I nursed him to sleep for a good 2 years.  He slept in our bed longer than that.  We thought for a while that he might be "that" kid that wouldn't leave our side EVER.  Then he began to make friends and we became significantly less important.  His best buddies so far have been Dylan (in AZ), Jaden, Caleb, Sam, Wynn, and cousin Tyler.  He also thinks Caillou (the French Canadian cartoon bald boy) is a good friend of his.  Like his Dad, Avery is very loyal to the select few friends he chooses, yet despite the loyalty, peer pressure means nothing to him.  He does not waver in what he does and does not want.  He tells us all the time how much he loves his friends... and what they want for Christmas.  He also loves his grandparents on both sides very much and talks about then regularly.  He loves to snuggle with me and I love to snuggle back.  Its snuggletastic.  He still comes in our room in the night for just such a purpose.  I don't have the heart (or desire) to kick him out.  And he gives the best little boy puckered kisses.  He now goes to bed in his own room with a book and a prayer, although recently the idea of monsters have caused a hitch in our convenience.  We gave him "monster spray" (aka:  Febreze) and he about smoked us out of the house with it.  But there are no more monsters now.  Avery does things on his own time.  I've learned its better that way for all involved.  He crawled, walked, and weaned later than the average tike.  Potty training is following suit.  I think somehow he was born with a constitution of rights in his own little mind that he is certain he's entitled to.  Seeing as only certain things he won't be pushed or hassled on, I let him have his illusions of importance.  Like when he would not, could not go inside the house if Dad unlocked and opened the front door.  It had to be me.  Sure, sure Avery.  No problem.  Amazingly, Avery has been able to survive on Ramen, chicken nuggets, pancakes, hotdogs, apple juice, pb sandwiches, and the occasional round of fries.  I suppose I shouldn't forget the candy, cake, and cookies he's willing to choke down.   In fairness, he was quite allergic to dairy and eggs for the first couple years.  Now he won't touch the stuff and he absolutely refuses to try new things.  Soon he might have no choice because he has become "sugar sensitive."  A short time after consuming sugar and some "white" food, he goes certifiable.  He gets infuriated over anything and seems to feel his soul has been injured to the core.  In his words, "sugar makes me mean."  Its true.  We're on three days sugar free and he's had no fits of rage.  Amazing.  Avery has long been a poop-denier. He'd be pooping (OBVIOUSLY) in his diaper and we'd ask him if he was.  He'd say "NNNNOOOO" in a very strained voice with a red face.  Recently, he started to say, "Mom, I pooped, and that's the truf."  Its hilarious.  Avery enjoys being a dog or a dinosaur on occasion.  One time after nursery, his teacher told me he stayed under the table most of the day roaring at the other kids like a lion in a den.  Avery loves Quincy... but he's kinda mean to her.  She spoils his plans.  So he has been known to push her down then run himself to timeout or hide from me.  He is a sponge ready to learn.  He loves books, puzzles, cartoons, animals, Monster trucks, and most boy-ly things.  He's very smart and observant.  He sees and points to things that I just can't seem to find.  He loves to cook, and has an obsession with squirt bottles.  He says the funniest things, like one time after sugar intake, he was fuming over something irrational and yelled, "I don't wanna follow Jesus!!!"  Or on the sweet side of things, after eating out once, Quincy was walking the wrong way as we were leaving and Avery said, "But we will miss her so much!"  He's often very polite.  In his sweet squeaky toddler voice, he often exclaims, "OH!  Thanks MOM!"  Melts my heart.  We love Avery so very very much!    He's got us wrapped around his crooked little pinky.  (It really is crooked).  Class dismissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1917309883879926919?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1917309883879926919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1917309883879926919' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1917309883879926919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1917309883879926919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/12/avery-101.html' title='Avery 101'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-8111507569206893170</id><published>2008-11-20T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T21:26:25.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Michael 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSZFDyEbpGI/AAAAAAAAAHA/QjpLmE6xVa4/s1600-h/IMG_3400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSZFDyEbpGI/AAAAAAAAAHA/QjpLmE6xVa4/s320/IMG_3400.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270976345166029922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my husband and I feel like writing about him.  Did you know that he went to BYU Hawaii and graduated in art (3D sculpture).  He's pretty amazing at recreating the human form.  He gets up in the morning with the kids if I need to sleep.  He's a germ freak.  He won't pass the sacrament tray by the handle and he won't let his bare feet EVER touch the floor (shower floor included).  His sister even made him socks to fit his slippers (see pic above).  He is the best dad ever.  Within an hour of his arrival home, the kids are both laughing uncontrollably as he contrives some new game with them.  He can entertain any group of kids with only himself as a prop and no prep time.  It's weird.  He's fiercely loyal.  Once you're in good with him, you can do no wrong.  He wanted to be an actor for years.  He probably still does, but I've never seen him act.  He's currently very happy in the business world.  He never wants to work for a boss again.  He's very protective of me and the kids.  He has themed weeks.  Like this week was his snap-button shirt week.  Other weeks are no jeans, or only striped shirts, etc... .  He has a fabulous and trim physique.  He doesn't eat much.  He hates HOT showers.  He says he likes MY butt and I think he's serious.  MY big butt.  I think he has super powers cause I get pregnant if we stand too close.  He's proud of that.  He enjoys friends and thinks fondly of his glory bachelor days in Hawaii.  His friends there called him Diehard.  He loves to surprise me.  He doesn't do dishes or bathroom duty.  He takes forever to poop.  He's a softy with our kids.  He's not a fan of all kids.  His beard is red and only grows in patches.  He loves his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, niece and nephew more than any man I've met.  That's how I knew he'd be such a good spouse.  He's kind of a genius at finding answers on the internet.  He educates himself via the internet everyday.  He seems to know all the current events.  He lets me go out on girl's night whenever I want to.  He likes to spend all his free time with me and the kids.  He's a light sleeper.  He likes to snuggle.  He won't share his nail clippers.  He can't live without chocolate.  He's generous with money when he can be.  He says every night that its my turn to say the prayer.  He doesn't read books.  He likes watching the Hills and America's Next Top Model with me.  He lets me dress him occasionally.  He hates to spend money on himself.  He supports me in all the goals I make.  He never ever yells.  He spits in the toilet every time he pees.  He lines even our toilet if he sits on it.  He's faithful to God, to me, and to the family.  He's a free spirit.  He's confident.  He's not a procrastinator anymore.  That's a miracle, by the way.  He puts a lot of hours into his church service.  His employees genuinely like him.  I think he's a "cool" boss.  He enjoys his work and his partner "an 11 out of 10."  He drives slow like an old man.  He's crazy-observant visually.  He tells me to "Look!" all the time.  He plans on being rich.  He's a light sleeper and a great snuggler.  Course over.  Michael 201 sometime in the future.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-8111507569206893170?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/8111507569206893170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=8111507569206893170' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8111507569206893170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/8111507569206893170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/11/michael-101.html' title='Michael 101'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSZFDyEbpGI/AAAAAAAAAHA/QjpLmE6xVa4/s72-c/IMG_3400.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2645649631089273691</id><published>2008-11-20T19:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T20:16:03.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween '08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSY10bcB2iI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5dLouBLzd44/s1600-h/DSC03736.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/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSY10bcB2iI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5dLouBLzd44/s320/DSC03736.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270959588718533154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is a bit late, but for anyone who knows me, that's typical.  After all the excitement leading up to Halloween, our camera needed batteries and we were out, so I stole these pics from Lacie.  We had a fabulous Halloween.  Avery was a dinosaur.  He wouldn't wear the hat and pretended to be a pirate instead when he met up with his friend Jaden as a pirate.  Quincy was an ADORABLE care bear.  I was Smurfette and Michael was a lucky troll.  We LOVE Halloween.  We worked so hard to get the costumes just right and THAT was an internet ride of a life.  I had been visiting my parent's in FL all the way until the 30th and I got into SLC around midnight.  By the way, that flight was also crazy BUT I only met "good" people who were soooooo nice and helpful.  Anyway, we got to our house after 2am and I was greeting by an incredibly CLEAN, HAUNTED house!  I was totally blown away that MY husband cleaned every inch of the house and then decorated those inches.  The vaulted ceiling was covered in spider webs.  The walls were covered with huge pumpkin pictures.  Some lights were replaced with black lights and others covered with plastic jack-o-lanterns.  Ghosts were hanging from the ceiling and fans and even one on a pulley in the bathroom.  He had created a HUGE jack-o-lantern out of lights hanging in the front window.  Turns out Michael had a LOT of time on his hands while I was gone.  It was INCREDIBLE!!!  Anyway, pictures did not do justice, but I'll post some later if I get a hold of my friend's camera.  On Halloween night, we met up with friends and went up and down Main Street shops, went to the mall, went to the church Trunk-or-Treat, and hit up one house.  Then we had friends over and ate soup, played games, and let the kids run wild hopped up on candy.  That night as Michael and I were laying in bed, Michael seemed sad and I asked why.  "It's over."  Remember that awful feeling as a kid when Christmas was over?  Poor Michael.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2645649631089273691?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2645649631089273691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2645649631089273691' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2645649631089273691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2645649631089273691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween-08.html' title='Halloween &apos;08'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSY10bcB2iI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5dLouBLzd44/s72-c/DSC03736.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5989136064064399411</id><published>2008-11-20T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T21:13:32.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SCARY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSYLt092KxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/fYUbUj6-blE/s1600-h/IMG_3154.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/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSYLt092KxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/fYUbUj6-blE/s320/IMG_3154.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270913295823809298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today I decided to take a bath with the kids.  I put on my bathing suit and Avery says, "Is that your swim suit?"  I respond, "It sure is.  It's so you don't try to touch my boobs."  He replies, "I don't wanna touch your boobs.  I wanna touch my boobs.  Remember?"  Right, right.  So we all dive in.  It was a good little water-filled time until I heard the scariest word you'll ever hear from a 1 year old say in a bathtub: "Poop" Quincy says in her sweet little voice.  I sat up in a panic.  Was it a declaration, or a fluke?  Was it inevitable, emminent, or a done deal?  Was Quincy thoughtful enough to warn me?  So I exit the tub as fast as possible and was quite relieved to see none of her doings.  Phew.  I dress her quickly and go to dress myself.  I return to her room to be greeted by a WHIFFFFF of you know what.  I just have to say that Quincy is brilliantly verbal.  Hallelujah for that!!!  I might think twice about another bathing retreat with the kids!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5989136064064399411?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5989136064064399411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5989136064064399411' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5989136064064399411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5989136064064399411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/11/scary.html' title='SCARY!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SSYLt092KxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/fYUbUj6-blE/s72-c/IMG_3154.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3760738471237808682</id><published>2008-11-18T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T16:17:56.255-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-Do!</title><content type='html'>So I posted some random "catch up" pics a couple days ago... on accident.  I thought I had just started a draft.  Soooo, let's try that again.  Here's SOME pics from the last few months when we &lt;div&gt;didn't have our computer working.  I still need to steal more from other cameras and post post post.  Enjoy these for now!  (Click on them to make them bigger.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/lightbox.swf" name="gw97963" FlashVars="gW=97963&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=42cddc&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="319"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Isn't he GORGEOUS!  Make-up kiping is not an unusual thing in this house.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Quincy seriously swiped butter out of the fridge and ran to hide while eating it.  I've never seen her so happy.  SICK!&lt;br /&gt;3.  Avery had a second birthday celebration this summer as we camped with Michael's family.  A fabulous, familicious, spoilulous, partytastic time.&lt;br /&gt;4.  We visited Old Faithful and the rest of Yellowstone in that same trip.  A must see in one's American life.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Avery was soooo scared of driving this thing until late in the summer.  Then he and Quincy went cruisin' regularly.  So cute!&lt;br /&gt;6.  Shane and his family vistited this summer.  It was fast and furiously fabulous.  I love that I have this picture with him.  The cousins had a blast together.  &lt;br /&gt;7.  Quincy also had a birthday party with Michael's family while camping.  They spoiled her with lovin' and gave her these royal jewels!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.  With the cousins (Shelby and Tyler) Avery got in touch with his inner cowboy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  Avery rode a pony at the Logan fair.  He was so proud and went on and on about how the pony "bumped him up and down."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10.  We went to Vernal with my Dad this summer.  At the local dinosaur museum, Avery became one with the exhibits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.  A pic outside of the cute cabin we camped in while visiting Yellowstone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12.  A family pic by some crazy tree in Yellowstone Park.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3760738471237808682?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3760738471237808682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3760738471237808682' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3760738471237808682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3760738471237808682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/11/lets-play-photo-catch-up.html' title='Re-Do!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3195681174431849266</id><published>2008-10-29T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T15:12:41.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOOBs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/na/archive/00181/Dolly_Parton__181109c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 440px" alt="" src="http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/na/archive/00181/Dolly_Parton__181109c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;People didn't believe me. They suggested tactics and books. I got funny looks and snide remarks. But I swore up and back down that my son was OBSESSED with boobs from the day he was born. I swore that if I weaned him he might jump off the ledge of his crib. So he kept nursing until I could reason with him and he was old enough to cave to major bribes. That translates to 2.75 years old. He does not try to nurse anymore. The begging and pleading and tears have stopped. I don't know if he remembers those years. But what I do know, is that he's still obsessed. He must get that from his Dad. They both think boobs have mystical powers. Multiple times a day, Avery tries to stick his hand down my shirt. He's getting pretty smart to figure out a way I'll let him cop a feel. "Mom, I just want to jump over it to touch your belly." "Mom, I just need to see if it has a boo-boo." "Mom, my hands are cold." He even tries to stick his FEET down my shirt on occasion after I reject his hand groping. Last night (since we've been sharing a bed at my parents' house), I woke up to him frantically feeling all over my back for my missing boobs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He doesn't want to just feel them. He also wants to talk about them. "Mom, dinosaurs don't have boobs." "Grandma, are those your boobs? Does Sophie (the dog) have boobs? Belts don't have boobs." To a friend's Mom, Avery said, "Are those your boobs? I have little boobs." The list goes on and on and on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His wife can thank me someday for his constant pestering. I hope he doesn't hit on his kindergarten teacher someday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In case you're wondering, I do try to thwart his efforts and teach him proper etiquette. I talked to him about "private parts." Guess where that got me? He drops his drawers and grabs his junk and says, "Grandma, these are my private parts." Oh, what's a mom to do? Laugh, behind his back. That's what I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3195681174431849266?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3195681174431849266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3195681174431849266' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3195681174431849266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3195681174431849266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/boobs.html' title='BOOBs'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6442197820400357061</id><published>2008-10-26T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:26:11.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Famous!</title><content type='html'>BTW, before I forget, I should post that before I flew to FL I was hanging in SLC at the Gateway and we walked past a women with a mike and a cameraman.  They stopped me to ask political questions.  Probably because I was radiating genius or something.  One of the questions was about the personal attack ads.  So they put the most brilliant quote from me on the news.  It's amazing.  "It seems a little underhanded."  That's my line.  I made it up myself.  I watch it everyday and I've hired a personal assistant to field all my calls, mail, ect.  But I still feel like I'm pretty down to earth and I've really found out who my TRUE friends are, being famous and all.  Its cool.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-799b548249c63255" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D799b548249c63255%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331654270%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D70327D8EBB3B5E009A0B65BD0568BABC4436DCFC.5DEE95D851680059543BC870B5A4E908B4B36042%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D799b548249c63255%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTwxOqov-QJL7XfBTzQHRPFsz9M4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D799b548249c63255%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331654270%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D70327D8EBB3B5E009A0B65BD0568BABC4436DCFC.5DEE95D851680059543BC870B5A4E908B4B36042%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D799b548249c63255%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTwxOqov-QJL7XfBTzQHRPFsz9M4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6442197820400357061?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=799b548249c63255&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6442197820400357061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6442197820400357061' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6442197820400357061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6442197820400357061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/totally-famous.html' title='Totally Famous!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2080581515124876098</id><published>2008-10-26T17:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T17:54:11.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freak update!</title><content type='html'>I feel the need to post an update on my current state with the "suicide disease."  I'm sure you're all up at night with worry.  I guess its been a couple months now and its quite significantly improved.  I got a blessing from Michael and he said I'd get better and I needed to be patient.  Awesome.  Patience.  But I'm sooooo grateful I'm not going to be permanently screwed.  So I went from taking major drugs including Lortab, Tylenol 3 with codeine, prescription Ibuprofen, some epilepsy medicine, sudafed, and naproxen ON A REGULAR BASIS to now taking regular ibuprofen and occasional Tylenol 3.  So much much improvement.  The last traumatic event I had with it was at the dentist to replace the temp crown.  I went in on EVERY drug I could take and made sure to get a ride b/c I was loooo-oopy.  I was hoping to avoid the novacaine shot that I theorized triggered the problem in the first place.  Well I made it through, but let's just say I cried.  And I'd rather have a baby.  Au natural.  (MAYBE a slight exag.)  Anyway, since then, I'm now fully functional, just a wee bit drugged and pleased as punch  to be alive.  I may not like it, but I suppose its good to suffer every now and then.  Reminds you to be grateful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2080581515124876098?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2080581515124876098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2080581515124876098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2080581515124876098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2080581515124876098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/freak-update.html' title='Freak update!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1510702382004720708</id><published>2008-10-26T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:28:18.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing a Bed with Avery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://m2.sourcingmap.com/smap/images/item/n/06d/ux_a06111000ux0004_ux_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://m2.sourcingmap.com/smap/images/item/n/06d/ux_a06111000ux0004_ux_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While in Florida, Avery and I are sharing a bed. The other night I woke up to Avery on his knees staring at me. In his adorable toddler voice, he said "MOM! There's a dinosaur in your hair!!!!" I tried to get him to lay down and he refused. He blinked and said "Oh! It's GONE!" Then he blinked again and exclaimed, "OH! There's another one!!!" I told him there was no dinosaur in my hair, it was alright, and we should go back to sleep. He was firm in his resolve: "It's tiny. It's yellow. It's mine." I explained he was having a dream and he sounded so intrigued. "OOOOHHH! Its a dream!" I could not stop laughing despite the dastardly hour. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1510702382004720708?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1510702382004720708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1510702382004720708' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1510702382004720708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1510702382004720708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/sharing-bed-with-avery.html' title='Sharing a Bed with Avery'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5424659985212381580</id><published>2008-10-25T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T12:49:00.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOT DANG!  We LOVE Halloween!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SQNocaKTA2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/rR6S4pKr3Jk/s1600-h/white+trash+halloween.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261163626967008098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SQNocaKTA2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/rR6S4pKr3Jk/s400/white+trash+halloween.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Life's a Garden! Dig it! Halloween '04! Can't wait to see what this year brings! (Insert spooky white trash Halloween laugh!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5424659985212381580?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5424659985212381580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5424659985212381580' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5424659985212381580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5424659985212381580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/hot-dang.html' title='HOT DANG!  We LOVE Halloween!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SQNocaKTA2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/rR6S4pKr3Jk/s72-c/white+trash+halloween.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6127067849207498709</id><published>2008-10-19T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T19:41:52.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And I get to do it again soon!</title><content type='html'>So I took both kids on a red-eye flight to Grandma and Grandpa's in Florida. OH MY GOSH! Let's just say that the ONLY way I got through THAT was with butt-loads of help (what is a butt load?). So we're going to talk about the people that made our endless night possible. Person(s) #1: We'll call these people "The Jumpstart". Jake and Mandy let me hang at their house all weekend in SLC and then at 10pm Monday, Jake gave me a ride in 'his' Porsche to the airport. He then unloaded my bags and helped me wheel EVERYTHING in. Let me define 'everything'. 2 kids in PJ's, 1 double stroller, 2 50 lb suitcases, 1 loaded purse, 1 child's backpack, 1 enormous diaper bag, 2 carseats, and a dvd player. Obviously we will be labeling "the Jumpstart" folk: Good. On to "The Checker". So this lady sees me struggle bringing everything up to the desk and she cooly refers me to the auto-check machine. So I load the kids up and go there. It, of course, does not have my ticket listed since we changed the dates. She grudgingly walks over to help. I have to then load everything back to her counter. She finds my ticket (could have done that in the first place) and makes me lift the bags for weigh in. She watches impatiently while I switch the luggage lbs and chase very excited running children. Gives me my ticket with NO directions to speak of and sends me off. She's getting a Bad label. I had no idea where to go, but being a smart girl, I figure it out. Then we meet "Gate Checker." Not only does she pull me aside to help out, she offers to find us a row to ourselves even though Quincy was a lap infant with no assigned seat. Definitely Good. Then there's "Angel Attendant." As I struggle before the plane door to collapse the double stroller and placate my children, a gem of a lady comes to hold Quincy and help me carry my truckload. She brought me my carseat when Quincy fell asleep. She ignored the seatbelt rules when Avery was sleeping on my lap. She did not make me set on the outside despite regulation. She tried to get me a cart after the flight AND she carried half my stuff through the airport as far as she could. Very Very Good. As I left the plane with the AA, she asked if we could page a golf-carty thing for me. The "Dumb Gate Attendant" said not at this time in the morning. But not two minutes later I see a couple from my flight cruising by on one. She's Bad. As I struggled through the HUGE Atlanta airport, I of course got lost and an older black man, "Janitor Dave", helped my find my way AND helped me carry my stuff. Then as I sat waiting at my gate for the hour and a half before the next flight with my two sleeping children on my chest, he revisited me with blankets and said he likes to do one good deed a day. He's very Good too. I sat there paralyzed by my children, desperate to adjust when a sweet older "Lonely Lady" came by to chat. She had been stuck at the airport for 12 hours and had 12 to go! Poor thing missed her flight because she thought she had to recheck her bags during the layover. But she helped me put Quincy in her car seat so I could move and we chatted away some of her long wait. She's a "Good" lil' lady. But soon enough I had to pee. As I looked at Avery sleeping on the chair and Quincy in her seat next to the stroller, as well as the other car seat, stroller, and bags, I had no idea how to pull this off. So I went to the gate desk and met "Pompous B". I don't need to interpret. She didn't look up until it was obvious I wasn't going away. Then she said she couldn't help me for 5 minutes. Definitely Bad. So I waited and went back. Here's where we meet our first Undecided. I go back to the desk and "Big Black Bear" asks what I need. I ask him if I can leave my things (and kids) in someone's care to use the restroom. He says it's not allowed. I ask what I'm to do. He repeats that its not allowed. I repeat my side. He snaps, "Well don't tell ME anything." Later as I'm boarding he looks at my load and knowing I'd have to carry it down stairs and outside to the puddle jumper, he halfheartedly suggests getting me an elevator or something. See? Undecided. Back to bathroom situation, I ask "Nice Old Couple" if they can keep an eye on the kids, and they agree. No big. They're Good. Then another Dave, "White Dave" helps me carry my stuff onto the plane, down some stairs, outside, and in the rain. He also helped me after the flight all the way to baggage claim. Another Good Dave. The hopper plane was so small that the seating was 2 by 2. Quincy was sleeping in her carseat, so I put her opposite of me. Avery was in my arms in and out of sleep. "Conflicted Attendant" comes along. "Face her carseat the other direction." "Is that seat approved?" "She can't sit by herself. You'll have to leave your son there buckled and sit by the baby." There would be no take off until I complied so I left a sobbing Avery buckled in a row all by himself while I sat next to an oblivious Quincy. In a moment of reconsideration, she asked the pilot for an exception and allowed Avery to sit on my lap next to Quincy. She later said, "if I could" put Avery in his seat for landing that would be good. I didn't. We have met our second "Undecided." Then comes the last life savers of the day. We'll call them "Mom and Dad." Dad picks me up and lets me promptly go to sleep while he skips work and watches the kids. He didn't bother me until I woke up. Then Mom came home and let me sleep some more! I couldn't have asked for anything better! Hallelujah for all those "Goods!" I think I dealt with more Goods than Bad or Un's. So that's a little boost for humanity. Like the Titanic (except not), my day became a test of characters and the Goods pulled through! Although the trip was LONG and ROUGH, it was doable only because of the little helpers. A fabulous reminder for me to be a "Good".  But the moral is to avoid suicidal situatioins in the future.  Or double the birth control efforts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6127067849207498709?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6127067849207498709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6127067849207498709' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6127067849207498709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6127067849207498709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-i-get-to-do-it-again-soon.html' title='And I get to do it again soon!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2923288954925826596</id><published>2008-10-16T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T13:34:29.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Spirit of Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://blogs.cetis.ac.uk/feedforward/files/2007/11/scared-monkey.png"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://blogs.cetis.ac.uk/feedforward/files/2007/11/scared-monkey.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogs.cetis.ac.uk/feedforward/files/2007/11/scared-monkey.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;Things I was scared of as a child:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The song "woa-oa here she comes. Watch out boys she'll chew you up... She's a man-eater."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The song "I just died in your arms tonite."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Burglars downstairs as I ran across the hall to the parent's room after jumping off my bed to avoid the snakes under it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. A witch that would certainly pop out of the toilet if I didn't wash hands and get out before the toilet noises stopped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. The movie "Watcher in the Woods".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Needles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Snakes... or a stick that looked like a snake following me home on my bike.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Never marrying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. The thought of dying and going into nothingness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. The thought of dying and then living FOREVER. And EVER. And EVER. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Graduating to Young Women's from Primary in church.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12.  "Unsolved Mysteries"... and walking outside at night and hearing its theme in my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;Things I'm afraid of now:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Heights without restraints.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Death of my parents, husband, or children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The end of the world (and the crap leading up to it).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Being fat and getting fatter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Snakes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. My kids living lifestyles that I don't approve of.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Ghosts, spirits, demons, whatever you want to call them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2923288954925826596?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2923288954925826596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2923288954925826596' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2923288954925826596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2923288954925826596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/fears.html' title='In the Spirit of Halloween'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6858677321703686912</id><published>2008-10-16T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T13:02:18.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Really?</title><content type='html'>I'm visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida with the kids and having a good time relaxing and bonding. Definitely enjoying the weather, esp. the warm rain, while winter (including snow) has bombed my husband in Logan. But, my kids have been CRAZY! Within the first few days, they broke a potted plant, spilled red juice on a fancy rug, and broke the bathroom soap dish. Each kid got poop on the floor. Quincy peed once on Grandma and once on the floor. They dumped chips all over the floor. Avery LOADED the washer with dry detergent (a whole massive box). They have scared the dog into living under the bed. Poor Quincy fell off the bed twice and she had a ladder fall on her head. They also found the permanent markers and Quincy did some body art.  Avery put toy golf clubs in the fridge and later dumped coke down my shirt! Plus they are whiny with some awful cough/cold thing! Sheesh!  However, Quincy has gotten super cute with all her talking and she's giving the sweetest kisses.  And Avery telling Grandma and Grandpa he loves them and telling Daddy he misses him.  They're either SUPER naughty or MEGA sweet these days. Polar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6858677321703686912?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6858677321703686912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6858677321703686912' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6858677321703686912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6858677321703686912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/really.html' title='Really?'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6555920393696900640</id><published>2008-10-12T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T20:05:06.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sweet Life!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://digitaldaily.allthingsd.com/files/2007/06/iphone_34.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://digitaldaily.allthingsd.com/files/2007/06/iphone_34.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;To blog or not to blog. Always a question for me. Remember just last year when blogging was a new and trendy thing. Definitely not a mom in sweats thing. It even seemed a bit risque. And now I have joined the world of blogging like most others of my generation to chronicle my life and maybe catch a small audience of friends on the way. I'm still learning to navigate this world. I just figured out how to change the font color! But, in my opinion, blogging absolutely knocks the socks of old-school scrapbooking! I refused to join that club.&lt;br /&gt;And while we're remembering life before fire, let's look back to the pre-Tivo days. Once you go Tivo, or DVR, or whatever your pleasure, you'll NEVER go back. For a trivial monthly fee, you are FREE! FREEDOM from the chains of cable. You can watch as you please and only what you please. Forget the commercials or the scenes you need to censor. No more a slave to choosing between your child's cry or the season finale show ending. You can record, pause, rewind, fast-forward ANYTHING, not just what you've decided to record. And its all without the clutter of video tapes. But it does cause a bit of remorse when you catch something too late on the radio or in class and realize you can't rewind.&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the cell phone thing. Tweens even are endowed with them! I'll admit that while it does give a feeling of safety and convenience in certain pickles, mostly I like the lack of boredom while driving or shopping. Someday, I'll probably be appalled that I used to drive and chat just like we shrink at the thought of our mother's driving sans carseats!&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid that I will be coming upon a new bit of technology that I may become addicted to. It almost makes me want to put off getting one, because in some ways, ignorance is bliss. I'm referring to the Apple I-Phone, of course. We certainly will get one soon, due to my Sugarbritches insatiable desire, but until then we will be content not realizing what we don't have. It includes an mp3 player (another invention I quite enjoy), a phone of course, full internet access, and some crazy applications (games, lights, GPS, music identifier thingies, etc...............). The world is competing to make to-die-for apps and I'm certain some of them will join my world on a daily basis.  Competition breeds genius!&lt;br /&gt;Makes me hope this end of the world thing doesn't come anytime soon, because there prob will be no blogging or cell phones or Tivo or I-phones. Maybe not even land lines and cable and email and microwaves and grocery stores and cars and planes and disposable diapers and (gasp)straighteners! It SHOULD (but doesn't) occur to me daily just how spoiled I am!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6555920393696900640?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6555920393696900640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6555920393696900640' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6555920393696900640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6555920393696900640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/10/sweet-life.html' title='The Sweet Life!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5291433451391005846</id><published>2008-09-26T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T11:02:20.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Ode to Michael</title><content type='html'>HAPPY &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;5&lt;/span&gt;th Anniversary Pumkinbutt!  I love you soooo much!  In honor of you, I am posting &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;5&lt;/span&gt; of my very favorite pics of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0fsyN0-EI/AAAAAAAAADo/m62PdMJBRxs/s1600-h/IMG_6182.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0fsyN0-EI/AAAAAAAAADo/m62PdMJBRxs/s400/IMG_6182.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250387594838341698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0fs34pjCI/AAAAAAAAADw/FgZqHow3S7A/s1600-h/IMG_6755.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0fs34pjCI/AAAAAAAAADw/FgZqHow3S7A/s400/IMG_6755.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250387596360125474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftEct5WI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Y3nb3zBazV4/s1600-h/IMG_8327.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftEct5WI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Y3nb3zBazV4/s400/IMG_8327.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250387599732630882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftTbPtYI/AAAAAAAAAEA/vHQbDxInLRg/s1600-h/IMG_2230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftTbPtYI/AAAAAAAAAEA/vHQbDxInLRg/s400/IMG_2230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250387603752990082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftZj71uI/AAAAAAAAAEI/sgwPiFVKTTs/s1600-h/s42301ca101920_14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0ftZj71uI/AAAAAAAAAEI/sgwPiFVKTTs/s400/s42301ca101920_14.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250387605400049378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5291433451391005846?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5291433451391005846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5291433451391005846' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5291433451391005846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5291433451391005846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/09/ode-to-michael.html' title='&apos;Ode to Michael'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SN0fsyN0-EI/AAAAAAAAADo/m62PdMJBRxs/s72-c/IMG_6182.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5519789895231514910</id><published>2008-09-15T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T07:30:39.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM A Fa-REAK!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SM9K4OS69vI/AAAAAAAAADg/cgCB7YZtp0Y/s1600-h/38794095_617b0702fc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SM9K4OS69vI/AAAAAAAAADg/cgCB7YZtp0Y/s320/38794095_617b0702fc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246494420680505074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  So, I'm lying in bed.  Its almost midnight and my mind is churning over what a freak of nature I am.  I grew up with asthma and allergies.  No big.  But then weird things started happening.  Like I choked on my food.  Had to get my throat stretched out twice.  With a balloon.  Because apparently I'm allergic to certain foods that slowly swell my throat over time.  Eosinophilic esophogitis.  Oh, and then there was that episode of severe stomach cramping and blood in poop for a week with lots of tubal testing and no answers.  Lets not forget the shingles.  That's right.  Who gets shingles???  And there's one little condition I have that I refuse to post in the internet.  Let's just say its not right.  Oh and then there's the anxiety attacks.  What?  Why?  Plus there's the two blood clotting disorders.  Apparently I have the same chance of winning the lottery as having dos thrombosis disorders.  Which by the way makes me take heparin shots twice daily when pregnant.  And which also excludes me from having insurance.  Awesome.  Plus it apparently caused Avery to be born a month early and within an inch of his life due to Oligohydramnios (amniotic fluid loss).  You may remember I pee my pants more than any 30 year old should and I'm fat.  HALF my hair went curl-frizztastic after having kids and my pinkies are crooked (so are Avery's).&lt;br /&gt;    Moving on to current matters.  Went to the dentist 2 weeks ago.  Got a crown.  Now I have LOADS of pain radiating from tooth to ear.  LOADS.  L-O-A-D-S.  I am on MAJOR pain meds and still feel it.  Dentist doesn't get it.  Went to doctor.  He suspects possible infection somewhere he can't see, but most likely...Atypical (trigeminal) neuralgia.  WHAT!!!!!!!!  Care to read a bit of what Wikipedia has to say?:&lt;br /&gt;     "In the atypical form of TN, the pain presents itself as severe constant aching. The pain associated with TN is recognized as one of the most excruciating pains that can be experienced."&lt;br /&gt;     "ATN can have a wide range of symptoms and the pain can fluctuate in intensity from mild aching to a crushing or burning sensation, and also to the extreme pain experienced with the more common trigeminal neuralgia. ATN pain can be described as heavy, aching, and burning. Sufferers have a constant migraine-like headache and experience pain in all three trigeminal nerve branches. This includes aching teeth, ear aches, feeling of fullness in sinuses, cheek pain, pain in forehead and temples, jaw pain, pain around eyes, and occasional electric shock-like stabs. Unlike typical neuralgia, this form can also cause pain in the back of the scalp and neck. Pain tends to worsen with talking, facial expressions, chewing, and certain sensations such as a cool breeze. Vascular compression of the trigeminal nerve, infections of the teeth or sinuses, physical trauma, or past viral infections are possible causes of ATN."&lt;br /&gt;     "This disease has earned the nickname "the suicide disease," due to the unfortunate and drastic steps some have taken when they have been unable to find relief."&lt;br /&gt;THE SUICIDE DISEASE!!!!  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THE FREAKING SUICIDE DISEASE!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even have something normal like cancer.  I might possibly have to live with this?  Chronic pain!  Uh, that's not okay.  Its a no-go.  Okay then.  &lt;br /&gt;Oh, and there's one more freakish thing.  I have always been 65 and one half inches.  Since puberty.  For almost twenty years.  That's 5 feet 5 and a half inches.  And as of today, I am measuring 66 and one fourth inches.  BLOW MY MIND!!!  How does that happen?  Really?  Is that possible!  &lt;br /&gt;But I can honestly say (excluding the recent pain), I feel like a genuinely healthy person.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to think... EXCEPT I do know that my grandparents were somehow related.....hmmmmmmm.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5519789895231514910?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5519789895231514910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5519789895231514910' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5519789895231514910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5519789895231514910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-fa-reak.html' title='I AM A Fa-REAK!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SM9K4OS69vI/AAAAAAAAADg/cgCB7YZtp0Y/s72-c/38794095_617b0702fc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6954153506160682774</id><published>2008-08-29T09:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T09:08:32.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mystery Solved</title><content type='html'>Incredibly NOT fair!!!  So I gained somewhere between 30 and 40 pounds with Quincy.  Sweet.  And when she was born, I was still nursing Avery, so I thought the pounds would melt off.  I exercised somewhat regularly and didn't feel like I OVER-indulged in food.  Well not ONE pound came off.  I'm talking somehow I magically didn't lose even the 6.5 lbs she weighed.  So I started working out... HARD.  Harder, longer, faster than I ever had.  I did my research and worked out right.  I went for 9 weeks straight/5 times a week and did not lose ONE pound.  My pants still fit tight.  I had some life and body changes.  I weaned my toddler, got pregnant, lost the baby, and weaned my youngest.  Then for the first time in three years, my body was mine.  All mine.  Only mine.  So I began to diet.  And now, 13 months after Quincy was born, I have lost 10 pounds.  OH MY GOSH!  It is sooooooooooo not fair.  I'm so hungry.  I get a little piece of pissed off when I see so many incredibly shrinking moms.  But as evil as it will sound, I smirked a bit when I saw this work-out-aholic at the gym keep her pooch for months after having her baby.  She didn't retain any weight, just that POOCH.  Wrong of me, I know.  But I recently went to my mom's family reunion and I think I have found the answer.  Damn genetics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6954153506160682774?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6954153506160682774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6954153506160682774' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6954153506160682774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6954153506160682774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/08/mystery-solved.html' title='Mystery Solved'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6637457251409987776</id><published>2008-08-22T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T09:12:27.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This post will probably be more for me than anyone else.  We've had so much going on lately, I'll give a quick rundown.&lt;br /&gt;1.  Got pregnant on accident first of June.  A one hit wonder.  &lt;br /&gt;2.  Freak out.  No insurance.  Major hormones.  Oops.  Nevertheless excited.  &lt;br /&gt;3.  Doc says baby is growing slow.  Lots of appointments.  &lt;br /&gt;4.  Brother Shane and family stay a couple nights.  A visit filled with crazy fam fun and even an ER visit for nephew's stitches. &lt;br /&gt;5.  All four Schaefer's sleeping in bed nightly.  I use the term "sleeping" loosely.&lt;br /&gt;6.  Had enough.  Move Quincy into Avery's room.  That's big for us.  Cold turkey sleep training.&lt;br /&gt;7.  Start sleeping for first time in 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;8.  At 10 weeks, I joined the non-exclusive miscarry club.&lt;br /&gt;9.  Sad, but surprisingly okay.  The Lord has a plan.&lt;br /&gt;10. Dad visits.  Super fun.  Went to his 45th class reunion.  He still isn't grey or balding.&lt;br /&gt;11. Quincy turns one.  We go to a park and eat cake.&lt;br /&gt;12. Drive to Yellowstone and "camp" with Michael's family.  Quite fun.&lt;br /&gt;13.  In-laws throw a birthday party for both Avery and Quincy.  Their own personal Christmases.&lt;br /&gt;14.  I wean Quincy.  That's two down in 4 months.  So incredibly easy!  In awe.&lt;br /&gt;15.  Finally start to drop a few pounds.  Hallelujah-glory be.&lt;br /&gt;16.  Mom comes to visit.  We shop.  We eat.  We diet.  We walk.  We organize.  &lt;br /&gt;17.  Must get parents to move here.&lt;br /&gt;18.  Crash mom's sibling reunion.  Enjoyed getting to know aunts/uncles.  &lt;br /&gt;19.  Birthday "party" for Avery at park.&lt;br /&gt;20.  Go to dentist.  There goes dreams of riches.&lt;br /&gt;18.  My maid (mom) left.&lt;br /&gt;19.  We go to Park City for a weekend with our good friends the Knights.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6637457251409987776?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6637457251409987776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6637457251409987776' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6637457251409987776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6637457251409987776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/08/this-post-will-probably-be-more-for-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3324780419629976223</id><published>2008-07-22T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T09:46:02.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ZZZZZZZZZZ......</title><content type='html'>We got ourselves into a mess.  I say that taking full responsibility.  Our kids have been on a late schedule, going to bed late and sleeping in late.  This gave me time to either go to the gym in the morning or sleep in too.  Eventually we were putting the kids to bed so late and it was taking sooooo long to get them both to sleep, we just started all falling asleep together in our bed.  When we bought it, we thought it was a king.  Some of you might recall a post where we were sleep training Quincy.  Well.... we went out of town and had company, etc... and were once again derailed.  Plus her crib was in our room and it didn't take long for her to find us.  She would chew us out incessantly.  So I caved.  I decided to try to teach her to go through the night in our bed without nursing.  That worked and provided some relief, but soon she was waking just to snuggle.  About 8 times a night.  Sweet.  We were a domino game of waking each other up.  One night we even shifted places 11 times.  I counted.  As in Michael and I both ended up at the foot of the bed like dogs after playing leaf frog all night.  But I realize we did it to ourselves.  Well, I broke.  I snapped.  I decided I didn't care about the tears anymore.  Michael and I moved the crib to Avery's room and we put both kids in their room, kissed them and locked the door.  There were tears.  Avery told us in the morning he cried because he lost his Mommy and Daddy and the lion was scary.  But both slept in their own beds.  We don't even know what to do with ourselves.  Quincy's sleeping through the night, Avery at least starts in his own bed (now with a flashlight), we have time to ourselves before our bedtime, and we don't spend an hour putting them so sleep.  I'm pretty sure I could effectively rule the free world now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3324780419629976223?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3324780419629976223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3324780419629976223' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3324780419629976223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3324780419629976223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/07/zzzzzzzzzz.html' title='ZZZZZZZZZZ......'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5017471993687285036</id><published>2008-07-21T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T21:05:48.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things (I stole the idea)</title><content type='html'>1.  I used to love New Kids and even went to a concert.  I'm not thrilled about their attempt at a comeback.&lt;br /&gt;2.  I love music, esp. loud, emotionally heavy music.&lt;br /&gt;3.  I cannot sing, but in heaven I plan on knocking my own socks off.&lt;br /&gt;4.  I played softball (first base) in high school.  I still love it.&lt;br /&gt;5.  I used to be cold all the time.  After having my second child, my thermostat is normal.&lt;br /&gt;6.  I have a lot of musical respect for Rob Thomas and Phil Collins.  They seem to put it all out there in their work.&lt;br /&gt;7.  I took a bus of FLDS teens on a tour at the Liberty Jail while on my mission.&lt;br /&gt;8.  I would believe anything that came out of Alton Alexander's mouth.  Anything.  He was my Visitor Center Director.&lt;br /&gt;9.  While pregnant I heard the name Avery on an episode of Gilmore Girls.  Then I found out that its root word means Alfred, my Dad's name.  &lt;br /&gt;10.  I picked the name Quincy from a college class I took with a girl named Quincy.  &lt;br /&gt;11.  Ears are the best thing in the world to touch, molest, fondle.&lt;br /&gt;12.  Michael has the softest ears a grown man can have.  That's why I married him.&lt;br /&gt;13.  He did however pull a fast one by pretending to enjoy my ear play before we got married.&lt;br /&gt;14.  My children and parents are quite patient with my ear play.  They might even like it.&lt;br /&gt;15.  I have a history degree from BYU and an English minor.  &lt;br /&gt;16.  I wish I had a useful degree, but I went through college in my late teens and early twenties before I acquired common sense.&lt;br /&gt;17.  I taught a high school Special Ed class for a semester in Hawaii.  &lt;br /&gt;18.  I make a killer baked broccoli, thanks to Ollie.  &lt;br /&gt;19.  I have only a minimal verbal filter.  I like to think its part of my charm :)&lt;br /&gt;20.  I used to think I'd marry a fat boy to make myself feel skinny.  &lt;br /&gt;21.  I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;22.  I'm not into chick flicks or flowers.&lt;br /&gt;23.  I am the ultimate bargain shopper.&lt;br /&gt;24.  I don't have health insurance, although  my family does.  Denied.  &lt;br /&gt;25.  I enjoy reality television more than I should.  &lt;br /&gt;26.  I cannot and will not dance.  Won't do it.  I refuse to be the person others whisper about.  &lt;br /&gt;27.  Laundry is the bane of my existence.  &lt;br /&gt;28.  I love eating out at exotic restaurants.  Don't usually enjoy American style.&lt;br /&gt;29.  If we own a pet ever, it will be a hypoallergenic dog or a hairless cat.  Maybe a fish for the kid's sake.&lt;br /&gt;30.  I hardly ever cry.  That emotion tends to disguise itself as anger.&lt;br /&gt;31.  I absolutely love thrill rides and water parks.&lt;br /&gt;32.  I'm very into make-up, but not so much into shoes, hair, jewelry, or fashion.  I try to be.  Something doesn't click.&lt;br /&gt;33.  I fake tan my legs for church.&lt;br /&gt;34.  I love Florida thunder storms.  They might be what I miss most. &lt;br /&gt;35.  I used to be terribly organized and responsible.  Now I seem to be much less so.  I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;36.  I have very little idea of why I'm fat.  It pisses me off.  &lt;br /&gt;37.  I could never get plastic surgery after watching Dr. 90210.  Gruesome.&lt;br /&gt;38.  I absolutely loved BYU, esp. my years at Chatsworth with Bishop Shippen.  &lt;br /&gt;39.  I wouldn't trade my mission experience, but I'm not sure I'd go again.  Pretty sure I wouldn't.  That's not an apostate statement.  Its part of my bluntness.&lt;br /&gt;40.  I can't stand the sound of vent fans in bathrooms or over stoves.&lt;br /&gt;41.  I enjoy deep, emotionally draining, thinker movies.&lt;br /&gt;42.  I know very little about politics.  I trust my dad's obsession to lead me to the proper opinion.  &lt;br /&gt;43.  My freckles and sun spots on my face drive me absolutely crazy.&lt;br /&gt;44.  I'm super fertile.  So is Michael. &lt;br /&gt;45.  I like to think I have supernatural people reading skills.&lt;br /&gt;46.  I have more patience than I thought I could with my kids.  &lt;br /&gt;47.  My mom wouldn't let me have Barbies.&lt;br /&gt;48.  We have one car and I am finally used to it.&lt;br /&gt;49.  Its a grandma car, and that too I'm finally used to.&lt;br /&gt;50.  I think drinking would be a vice if I wasn't LDS.  It sounds fun.&lt;br /&gt;51.  I excelled in school, and at the same time hardly attended.  Not worth my time.&lt;br /&gt;52.  I worry about autism with my kids.  Just paranoia.  &lt;br /&gt;53.  I think Michael has a fabulous physique.&lt;br /&gt;54.  I seem to acquire black clothes more than other colors.&lt;br /&gt;55.  I grew up with an extremely open door policy.  &lt;br /&gt;56.  Not sure what I have in common with my 2 brothers but I love them.&lt;br /&gt;57.  I hope that my children will be best friends.  &lt;br /&gt;58.  I nursed Avery until he was 2 and a half.&lt;br /&gt;59.  I plan on weaning Quincy close to her first birthday.&lt;br /&gt;60.  I seriously pray for my parents to move to Utah.&lt;br /&gt;61.  My Dad actually applied for jobs here.  Now that's a great Dad.&lt;br /&gt;62.  I don't have a green thumb or a crafty bone in me.&lt;br /&gt;63.  I enjoy writing.  Not much into reading.  I get too distracted with life.&lt;br /&gt;64.  I used to relish listening to loud music alone in the dark.  Alone never happens any more.&lt;br /&gt;65.  Shopping gives me a sense of accomplishment.&lt;br /&gt;66.  I only get ready for the day if I have somewhere to go.  That's new.  Not proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;67.  I give my son "gum kisses" when he wants the gum I'm chewing.  Gross, I know.&lt;br /&gt;68.  I am not a germaphobe.  ie:  I like buffets.&lt;br /&gt;69.  Michael was my first serious boyfriend.  Not my first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;70.  I'm grateful that the current style allows for maternity style shirts.&lt;br /&gt;71.  My 6th grade English teacher made me the official "class complainer."  It took me ages to figure out that was a technique to keep me quiet until the end of class.&lt;br /&gt;72.  My parents both have brown hair.&lt;br /&gt;73.  It takes something special to get me to like a country song.  There are a few.&lt;br /&gt;74.  The news is harder for me to watch now that I have kids.&lt;br /&gt;75.  I'm 30.  &lt;br /&gt;76.  Neglectful and abusive parents make me furious.&lt;br /&gt;77.  I've been known to chew a few out.&lt;br /&gt;78.  I chased a woman down in a store for giving my mom the bird.  I called her a special name.&lt;br /&gt;79.  I want to travel to see cultures completely foreign to what I know.&lt;br /&gt;80.  I'm still confused on why caffeine free diet soda is unhealthy.&lt;br /&gt;81.  I have a new goal of having family meals around the table.&lt;br /&gt;82.  I have constant goals of reading scriptures, saying prayers, losing weight, and exercising.&lt;br /&gt;83.  I am a pushover when it comes to children, including my own.&lt;br /&gt;84.  I have 2 blood clotting disorders.  That's pretty rare.&lt;br /&gt;85.  I also have eosinophilic esophagitis.  That makes it hard to swallow apparently from food allergies that I didn't know I had.&lt;br /&gt;86.  My son Avery was allergic to milk and eggs.&lt;br /&gt;87.  Quincy seems to be allergic to eggs and cashews.&lt;br /&gt;88.  I used to be a harsh movie critic.  Now I pretty much like anything I get to watch uninterrupted.&lt;br /&gt;89.  I could only hope to be as close to perfection as my parents.&lt;br /&gt;90.  I'm fairly good at math when I take classes.&lt;br /&gt;91.  Science and foreign languages are foreign languages to me.&lt;br /&gt;92.  Poor (speaking) english is a major pet peeve of mine.&lt;br /&gt;93.  I begged my parents to get a dog when I was dating Michael but staying with them because I missed him.  They did.  I was only home a few weeks.  I think they're glad they're glad to have her.&lt;br /&gt;94.  I've paid tithing my whole life.&lt;br /&gt;95.  My brother Brad called my Scummer growing up.&lt;br /&gt;96.  One of my special ed students (and later others) pronounced my name as "Hermer."&lt;br /&gt;97.  My mom called me Lady Bug and Sister Poo.&lt;br /&gt;98.  Today's Special was my favorite show for much of my early years.&lt;br /&gt;99.  I also watched Pinwheel, You Can't Do That on Television, Kids Incorporated, the standard TGIF shows, etc...&lt;br /&gt;100. I was pretty good at Super Mario Brothers 1-3 and Tetris.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5017471993687285036?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5017471993687285036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5017471993687285036' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5017471993687285036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5017471993687285036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/07/100-things-i-stole-idea.html' title='100 Things (I stole the idea)'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1507113523647340828</id><published>2008-06-20T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T12:57:06.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Miracle!  Thank you Thomas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/bounce.swf" name="gw69008" FlashVars="gW=69008&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=000000&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="315"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#000000; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;Powered by GoodWidgets.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you  might remember my disturbingly candid blog about tandem nursing.  My plan was to nurse Avery until Quincy was 1 and I weaned them both.  Well, a few weeks ago, I just came to a point where I COULD NOT take it anymore!!!!  AHHHHHHH!!!!!  If I looked down during a "session" I started to have thoughts of "Boy!  You are too big!  Your cheeks don't have that baby pudge and  you speak complete sentences!"  We would even argue over who's boobies they were.  They're MY boobies!  No, they're MY boobies! &lt;br /&gt;So we took Avery to see Thomas the Train when he visited Utah.  Of course after that Avery wanted every Thomas train that exists.  So I stocked up on trains and made him some deals.  In the morning, I would say, "You can have this AMAZING new train, or you can have booby today, but not both."  And with a shiny new train smiling right at him, his 2 year old paws couldn't resist.  Inevitably, each day he would regret his decision.  He'd scream, cry, or whimper in my arms.  "I want Booby!   I HATE Thomas the Train!"  I would reassure him that he could choose booby the next day instead of  a train.  But the groundhog of a morning would come and he'd choose the next train.  &lt;br /&gt;The saddest moment came when Avery wasn't feeling so well and was adamant about wanting to nurse.  He threw a fit to end all fits.  So much so that he fell asleep in my arms crying, "I'm NOT a big boy!  Avery's still a baby!"  &lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how the train thing faded, but it did.  And although its been a few weeks and he continues to ask daily, I have not caved.  That is saying a lot for me.  So the requests are getting farther apart and not so urgent.  And I'm pretty sure he's going to make it!  And now I know that I will too!  I'M FREE!!!&lt;br /&gt;Now for Quincy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1507113523647340828?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1507113523647340828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1507113523647340828' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1507113523647340828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1507113523647340828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-miracle.html' title='It&apos;s a Miracle!  Thank you Thomas!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-6713730411337618856</id><published>2008-05-21T11:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T14:42:29.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PErmanEnt Damage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/shift.swf" name="gw64069" FlashVars="gW=64069&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=cb140c&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="240"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#cb140c; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;Powered by GoodWidgets.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta take the good with the bad, right.  In the spirit of disclosure and laughing at my expense, I'm going to once again lay it on the table.  Once upon a time I had a normal bladder.  Then I gave birth.  Out comes Avery and thanks to drugs, I'm feeling peachy keen.  He was born around 6pm and at about 3am I decide to sneak out of my hospital bed to use the bathroom.  As I roll off my bed, 'water' starts gush-gush-gushing out of me.  I cannot over exaggerate this story.  And my legs were still not working, so I stood balancing with my bed and soaking the floor.  Michael arouses on his couch and sees me pee-ing on his flip-flops.  Side-note:  Michael has a germ phobia and is especially particular with feet.  He never lets his feet touch the ground.  He wears these special flip-flops, even in our own house and at all times.  And I was peeing on them.  So he wakes and says groggily:  "Uh, you're  peeing on my shoes."  Brilliant Michael.  So he reaches to the nurse call button and says, confused, "Uh, my wife has a leak?"  I'm trying to make myself feel better, so I assure myself that this is just one of those things about birth that you don't get told.  So when the nurse comes running in, I say, "You probably see this all the time."  She looks disgusted and says, "Uh, no."  So she strips me right there and walks me to the restroom.  Humiliating.  Seriously humiliating.  Then a nurse arrives to check things out the next day and catheterizes me.  She freaks out and starts yelling for the doc.  She is told that the doc is in surgery, but she insists the doc see this (whatever THIS is).  The doc arrives and acts calm, but soon informs me I'll be going to physical therapy.  I get home and have zero control over my bladder.  I still don't realize that this is far from normal and consequently I don't ask enough questions.  For the first couple days, I literally couldn't change direction when walking or ... gush.  Then it got  a bit better.  I just couldn't walk fast or sneeze or be startled, etc.  After physical therapy (which by the way was shock-zzzzz- therapy), I could walk fast and even sneeze sometimes pee-free.  I learned to deal.  Bringing extra 'just in case' underwear or wearing a pad to exercise.  Although running and jumping were out of the question.  Then I got pregnant with #2.  Couple pre-existing incontinence with pregnancy and things get ugly.  Sometimes I'd have absolutely no warning and then just be peeing.  And forget about bending over without prep.  Soon I was wearing pads DAILY and I hate hate hate wearing pads.  Life seemed weird like this until it became normal.  After Quincy's birth, things were so much more tolerable, but still not good.  Now I'm back at the point of not running or jumping for sure and hoping for the best with the sneezes, coughs, startles, and loud laughs.  Hmmm....  I guess its on my mind a little extra lately for a few reasons.  First, I'm tired of sitting out on life and I've decided to run in the mornings at the gym.  So I just wear a pad there.  Second, I have hay fever lately and those sneezes are too strong for me to handle.  Third, I'm starting to strongly suspect that I was mishandled in the hospital with Avery.  I didn't use the bathroom until 3am in the hospital after Avery arrived, so I overextended and damaged my bladder, but I didn't know I had to go because of the drugs.  The nurses are supposed to know this stuff and help a sister out!  Its standard!  So now I have permanent damage via my stint in Hawaii (I don't think it would have happened elsewhere).  Hence, you gotta take the good with the bad.  Sweet.  Such is life.  HA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-6713730411337618856?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/6713730411337618856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=6713730411337618856' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6713730411337618856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/6713730411337618856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/05/permanent-damage.html' title='PErmanEnt Damage'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2090528827681101018</id><published>2008-05-21T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T16:53:53.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dad Caught a Shark!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/bounce.swf" name="gw64072" FlashVars="gW=64072&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=000000&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="395" height="296"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#000000; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;Powered by GoodWidgets.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously!  He did!  And I just might think this is cooler than anyone else does.  He tugged on the 200+ shark for 45 minutes straight, not knowing it was a shark.  They didn't bring the shark into the boat because they would have had to beat it to death (ech).  I have to say that every girl thinks of her dad as  a hero and the strongest man alive, so I think its pretty cool that my dad caught a shark.&lt;br /&gt;Certain ideals of family are so sweet to me.  Like how I always wanted my mom to be my BFF and she is.  I just wish we could live closer and shop all the time.  And I always wanted to snuggle through the night with my husband and Michael is a fabulous snuggler.  And a handyman, like my Dad.  Not to mention I'm obsessed with ears and he takes the prize on soft, squishy ears.  And I always pictured a handsome mischevious son who could get away with most anything with a witty remark and a smile.  Let's just say Avery is a little too cute for his own good.  And then there's Quincy.  I couldn't wait to dress a little girl in dresses and bows and this just might be more fun than it should be.  Its everything I imagined it would be.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm sure a lucky little lady!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2090528827681101018?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2090528827681101018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2090528827681101018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2090528827681101018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2090528827681101018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-dad-caught-shark.html' title='My Dad Caught a Shark!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1838076614259469120</id><published>2008-05-21T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T17:05:00.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's 2 for 2!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/stack.swf" name="gw64110" FlashVars="gW=64110&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=d20039&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="415" height="249"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#d20039; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;Powered by GoodWidgets.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easter '06.  Avery's about 8 months and just starting solid foods.  We're in Florida at my parents house.  Michael, Avery, and I are playing with Avery's Easter Basket and Avery is giggling like crazy.  Good times.  We intermittently feed him some of Grandma's homemade mashed potatoes.  Avery's laughing and laughing.  We're beaming.  Laughing.  Beaming.  Laughing.  Beaming.  Pause.  Wait.  Eh?  PUKING.  Puking all over.  All over Mom.  Long story short.  We soon discover, via multiple episodes of vomit coupled with hives, that Avery is allergic to anything made with milk or eggs.  Luckily many outgrow those allergies and Avery (phew) was one of the lucky ones.  &lt;br /&gt;Mother's Day '08.  Getting ready for church.  Michael (good man) made french toast for breakfast.  So far, our little foodie daughter showed no signs of food allergies... until then.  Within minutes after breakfast, she was covered head to toe in hives.  Happy Mother's Day.  I'm assuming it was the egg on the toast and hopefully not the wheat bread.  Sheesh!  &lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY CHILDREN?!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1838076614259469120?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1838076614259469120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1838076614259469120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1838076614259469120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1838076614259469120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/05/thats-2-for-2.html' title='That&apos;s 2 for 2!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2355232352337729150</id><published>2008-04-30T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T11:05:00.129-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ'/><title type='text'>I love my children. . . when they're sleeping.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/morph.swf" name="gw60910" FlashVars="gW=60910&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=1eb6e0&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="315"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#1eb6e0; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;Powered by GoodWidgets.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me clarify.  I love them when they're awake too.  But right now, right this very minute, Quincy is screaming out her lungs in her crib and breaking my heart.  We are sleep training her and I have to keep telling myself that it is for her own good.  We actually have made serious headway with her, but WOW babies should just come knowing how to sleep.  What's so hard about that?  Seriously.  &lt;br /&gt;Once I was holding Avery as a young sleeping baby in my arms as I talked to a bank teller and I commented that there is nothing better than a sleeping baby.  That young teller gave me the dirtiest look, as if thinking that I am so put out by my children that I only like them lying in slumber.  But I think any mother can understand my sentiment.  It can be a long process to get a baby to sleep.  It can involve crying and rocking and nursing and so on.  You know when your baby is tired, but they need convincing.  So there is definitely a moment of "phew" when your child falls asleep.  And then there's that whole surreal transformation when all of the sudden he or she is an angel.  I'm not talking 'a cute, serene child'.  I'm talking an out of this world celestial little being.  There is such a pureness and peace to that sleeping baby that I have seen no where else.  &lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, 40 eternal minutes later, Quincy is asleep.        &lt;br /&gt;As I said, we are trying to sleep train Quincy.  She went from waking about 6 times a night to sleeping through 3 full nights.  Considering that Avery is still not sleep trained, I didn't know babies really could do that!  I mean, I've heard...  You see, I have a threshold.  Any attempts we made with Avery were bailed on because he far exceeded my threshold.  It felt like we were torturing him with no results.  And I'm not stupid.  I know it takes consistency and determination, but I swear Avery is one of a kind.  I need to read a book on strong willed children.  He was born that way.  If I told him to eat candy, he'd eat vegetables.  When I tell him to go to time out, he yells back, "No, you go time out!"  Sometimes he pushes Quincy and then runs straight to time out himself.  I'm pretty sure it's a calculated decision that time out is worth the prize.  Very rarely I threaten a swat on the butt as a last resort.  He yells, "No, I spank myself."  And in hilarious fashion, he proceeds to do just that.  Good times.  And most recently, I was holding Avery in my arms telling him how wonderful he is:  "Avery, you are my favorite little boy.  You are kind and smart and handsome.  You love your Mommy and your Daddy.  You love Quincy and you love Jesus."   His response to this was, "I don't WANT to follow Jesus!"  That came from the mouth of my incredibly defiant two year old!  HILARIOUS... I think.  Back to the sleep subject, when I do get Quincy to sleep, I hold my breath that Avery doesn't bang on the door or jump in her crib in both inadvertent and blatant attempts to wake her.  Wow, nothing frustrates me more. But in his cuteness, Avery says, "Look!  Baby's awake now!"  Anyway, such frequent frequent frequent antics are yet another reason that sleep is so very welcome in our house!    &lt;br /&gt;By the way, she's awake now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2355232352337729150?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2355232352337729150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2355232352337729150' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2355232352337729150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2355232352337729150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-love-my-children-when-theyre-sleeping.html' title='I love my children. . . when they&apos;re sleeping.'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1469337440904388834</id><published>2008-04-20T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T20:43:00.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU GOT TO SEE THIS STUD UP CLOSE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SAwNFvxIe4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/GozdNbKHwPM/s1600-h/zmicheal+mullet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SAwNFvxIe4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/GozdNbKHwPM/s400/zmicheal+mullet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191538862824389506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1469337440904388834?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1469337440904388834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1469337440904388834' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1469337440904388834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1469337440904388834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-got-to-see-this-stud-up-close.html' title='YOU GOT TO SEE THIS STUD UP CLOSE!'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/SAwNFvxIe4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/GozdNbKHwPM/s72-c/zmicheal+mullet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-5956189910614409324</id><published>2008-04-15T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T15:54:33.824-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A blustery day filled with animal-icious-ness'/><title type='text'>Logan's Baby Animal Days</title><content type='html'>Avery loved Logan's Baby Animal Days!  He wasn't afraid of the animals and he even rode a horse!  He held a duck and a rabbit and pet a pig, a goat, and a sheep.  He needs a little work on his candy snagging skills after the Candy Cannon.  The other kids kicked his butt.  Same with Easter.  We'll work on that. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/lightbox.swf" name="gw58388" FlashVars="gW=58388&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=42cddc&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="500" height="375"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a style="color:#42cddc; text-decoration:none; font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:9px;" href="http://www.goodwidgets.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-5956189910614409324?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/5956189910614409324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=5956189910614409324' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5956189910614409324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/5956189910614409324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/04/logans-baby-animal-days.html' title='Logan&apos;s Baby Animal Days'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-972566520311714506</id><published>2008-03-28T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T21:23:14.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EASTER GOODNESS</title><content type='html'>So I've struggled on what to write.  I've already "vented" about the nursing thing, and really, what else goes on around here?  Then I decided that I just need to write, whether its entertaining or not, or I won't write much at all.  So for the sake of "journaling", I'm going to write about Easter.  oddly enough (almost) EVERY SINGLE day of celebration last year (2207) sucked!  And I'm talking puking on my birthday and Burger King on Thanksgiving.  But when the Lord closes one year of doors, he opens another, right?  So we decided this year would rock.  And it has.  Michael had a good birthday (a small party and treats all day) and I did too (a surprise bowling party and later a Matchbox 20 concert-amazing).  Valentine's was good.  We exchanged love letters and went on the extremely rare date night.  Very nice.  And for Easter we decided to start celebrating Saturday.  We took the kids to 'Horton Hears a Who'.  A movie in the theater is a rarity for us and I was nervous about Quincy sitting through it.  As we were walking in, Avery was throwing a fit screaming "I don't want to see the elephant!"   And we turned into the parents who insist, "You will see this movie and you will have fun!"  As always, we were right.  And then we decided to take him to IHOP since they had "Who-cakes" from the movie.  He went in there screaming "I don't want pancakes."  You will eat pancakes and you will like them!  Why do we bother.  We did last minute easter shopping and came home to decorate eggs.  Of course Avery bailed on the dipping spoon, so he died his hand blue.  The next morning the Easter Bunny placed the dyed eggs in a trail leading to the kids Easter baskets.  We dressed them cute and went to church.  We had dinner, an easter egg hunt, and a cookie decorating with some friends.  It was a good Easter weekend.  My mom asked if I talked about Jesus to Avery.  The extent of that for me was "This is a special day for Jesus.  Here, have some candy."  I haven't explained death to him yet, so I didn't know how to go about explaining how Christ overcame it.  It'll come.  Anyway, we had a great Easter.  And there, now I've blogged again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-972566520311714506?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/972566520311714506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=972566520311714506' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/972566520311714506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/972566520311714506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/03/so-ive-struggled-on-what-to-write.html' title='EASTER GOODNESS'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-2209690356631596954</id><published>2008-03-18T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T16:26:53.921-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A TALE OF TITTIES FOR TWO</title><content type='html'>Let me take you on a journey.  A journey only for the brave, the stout of heart, and of course the curious voyeur.  Here's the visual.  Imagine a 2 year old throwing a typical fit.  Screaming, whining, flailing limbs, the whole bit.  Now pepper in a shrill "BOOOOOOOOOOBIE!  BOOOOOOOOOBIE!  I WANT BOOOOOOOOBIE!"  Add in an exasperated me in one of many positions, lets say lying on my stomach in bed with my arms crossed over my chest screeching "No boobie.  No boobie.  No boobie."  Multiply that basic image many times a day, and you are starting to glimpse my journey through the world of nursing.  &lt;div&gt;A few things about myself:  I grew up anti-nursing.  The idea of having another human being suck juice made from modified sweat glands out of my nipples was not appealing.  I was quite adamant.  But once I got pregnant and already loved that baby in my belly, my husband and I decided I would give nursing a go for health reasons.  Avery joined us in August 2005 and the saga begins.  He loved nursing.  LOVED IT!  In retrospect, he came to love it more than the average sucker.  We were vagrants for about a year after his birth moving from Hawaii to Missouri to Florida to Arizona, shifting places in between each move.  So I was Avery's only constant.  Me and my boobs.  He didn't have a crib in any of those places as we were crashing with family while trying to settle after Michael's schooling.  He slept with us and nursed multiple times through the night.  I was fine with that because I'm a softy and reasoned that he was certainly unsure about his ever changing surroundings.  He came to want a suckle anytime he cried, day or night, and I obliged.  At one point, he was nursing over 12 times through the night and I wanted to die.  But I'm such a SOFTY!  At that point, I began to sleep train him, but we moved again and derailed the whole process.  When Avery was around 9 months, we figured out (via hives and vomitting) that he was allergic to both eggs and milk.  That eliminates a lot of baby food possibilities.  So as a year (the typical time to wean in America) came around, Avery loved my boobs more than ever and had a very limited diet.  I decided there was no reason to wean just yet.  The nursing didn't bother me at all.  I did my research and learned that your milk changes with time to fit the needs of older nursers.  I also learned that the world average for weaning is 4 and a half years.   Yummy!  Further, it was helpful in reducing allergies.  And lastly, I read that some kids have a super-special-tastic attachment to nursing and weaning them before THEY are ready could result in feelings of rejection and a regression of skills.  Weaning would certainly send Avery into a tailspin!  So we continued to nurse.  I acted as the binky and the blankie and the squishy, or whatever else kids love.  We made sure to only nurse in the privacy of our own home, so as he got older, it became our little not socially accepted secret.  But our little family was convinced it was still right for us.  And to some degree, I think it was.  Keyword:  WAS.  I held to the fact that kids in America that self ween do so at about 2 and a half.  With a little prodding, I was sure I could gently push that date earlier.  But I was in no hurry.  Then, fertile-myrtle-me got pregnant despite my round the clock nursing.  Nursing through that had its rocky points.  I think my body was drained so I caught every sickness catchable in my first trimester and I was exhausted.  So I half-heartedly began to try to ween.  Every progression came with backsliding (a tribute to my will-power).  When Avery was about 18 months, we were presented with an offer to move to Utah.  We jumped at the chance, but the next few months were crazy and provided even more reasons not to wean my little tumor.  I then made a conscious decision to nurse two kids, tandem style.  I bought a book on the subject, and became semi-convinced that it'd all be fine.  So we moved to Logan in June and Quincy was born in July.   Avery went from seeming like my baby to becoming a giant vacuum over night!  From there on out, it was one kid on each boob. For those of you who don't know, when you first begin nursing, it its PAINFUL!  Imagine oompa-loompa mini razors scratching at your nipples every time your newborn begins to suck.  It's the tears in your eyes, curl your toes and squeak type of pain.  At least I would get out of that with Quincy since I never stopped nursing.  WRONG!  Sadly but truly, WRONG!  Turns out, it is the hormone, rather than the soft virgin nipples that cause pain.  So Quincy's suckle was nothing compared to the strong pull of a two year old.  OUCH!  To add to my woes, Quincy was born (literally) with two teeth!  So she bites occasionally and her only instinct with a bottle or pacifier is to BITE it!  She just can't seem to grasp either concept, so I am her only source of nutrition and pacifying.  Sweet.  Moving on to the here and now, I have made my bed and I'm laying in it.  Avery is too young to get the concept that there would be no personal vendetta against him if I cut him off.  Rather I must wait until I wean Quincy too, so it's nothing personal and Mom is just out of milk.  Luckily he's old enough to understand boundaries to a degree and his nursing times are very limited.  For a time, with all the new boundaries set, Avery became obsessed with at least touching my boobs.  He'd stick his hand down my shirt any time or place he felt like it for comfort.  And he'd suck one boob while trying to roll the other nipple in his fingers like a booger.  That got halted quickly!  Having said that, he still tries to suck or touch them many many times a day and certainly every time Quincy nurses.  If I say no, I hear a whiny, "I want to touch it!  Let me touch it!!!"  Needless to say, my boobs hang much lower than any 30 year old's should.  Yet the pliability pathetically makes lying on my pack with a boob in each arm-pit and a kid in each arm crook possible.  Awesome.  Awaiting the days until freedom, for now we just have to chuckle at the occasional antics that come.  I never thought I'd let a kid that can say, "Mom, the giraffe is sad and needs boobie ni-night from the mommy giraffe" suck my teet.  But I do.  So at times when our lovely son comes screeching into our room in the middle of the night with a croaky sleep voice saying, "Mommmmmmy!  Booooooobie!" we roll our eyes, chuckle a bit, and I assume the position of melon protection  as I get mauled by the boobie monster.  This too shall pass, but in case there's any doubt, Quincy has a normal attitude toward the boob and will be weaned at a year... if I make it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-2209690356631596954?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/2209690356631596954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=2209690356631596954' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2209690356631596954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/2209690356631596954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/03/tale-of-titties-for-two.html' title='A TALE OF TITTIES FOR TWO'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-3396190992123696608</id><published>2008-02-25T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T21:11:59.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Schaefer's Crazy World</title><content type='html'>At this point in our lives, we're in the thick of it.  Michael goes to work.  He works and he works some more.  I barely get dressed in a day, but I work too.  Feeding, showering, dressing, holding, consoling, teaching, time-outing, cleaning, and so on all to be repeated multiple times a day.  With my two adorable handfuls, its near an impossible task to get myself and the kids out of the house by noon.  No exaggeration.  Is that normal?  I don't know.  But we have two beautiful, happy children.  Avery has quite a personality.  He loves playing with monster trucks and pretending to be a dinosaur. He has started to have fears and occasional nightmares.  Today, the first two minutes of a tivo-ed Polar Express terrified him so bad he ran out of the room screaming.  And he cried and cried when I unwittingly pretended to take his ear off.  And he didn't want it back on.  No, he just wanted to hold it in his cupped hand.  Having mentioned tivo, once you go there, you never go back.  Avery watches the same Caillou episodes and Disney movies again and again with a push of a button.  And on the occasion we (the adults) get to watch something, we can pause and rewind as needed.  No parent should live without it.  Just thinking of it makes me breathe a sigh of relief.  Quincy is as sweet as can be.  She was born with two teeth.  Crazy!  She recently discovered her sweet little tongue and sticks it out regularly.  She also recently learned a mediocre crawl.  Quincy seems to have two passions:  attention from adults and food.  Not the liquid gold that I provide, but everyday food (diced and mashed of course).  I might actually be able to wean her before kindergarden.   So life for Mike and I basically revolves around catering for two young ones.  We wouldn't change a thing, except we might ask for an occasional nap.  Or we might like to sleep through a night (since its been 2+ years without).  Or me might like some alone time.  Maybe we'd get a maid.  Or maybe we'd buy a second car and a house (not poor, just seriously frugal).  Okay, so I suppose we would change a thing or two, but as is in our crazy world, the Schaefer home is one happy place to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-3396190992123696608?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/3396190992123696608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=3396190992123696608' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3396190992123696608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/3396190992123696608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/02/schaefers-crazy-world.html' title='Schaefer&apos;s Crazy World'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8078393191547042364.post-1505588475849634527</id><published>2008-01-02T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T12:03:13.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quincy 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://goodwidgets.com/widgets/bounce.swf" name="gw104515" FlashVars="gW=104515&amp;bC=f2f2e8&amp;aC=000000&amp;v=1.2" quality="best" wmode="transparent" allowScriptAccess="always" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="319"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who have been keeping up on the Schaefer courses, it is time for Quincy 101.  Quincy weirds me out.  She's a 17 month old with the mind of a three year old stuck in a 12 month old's body.  She's pretty amazing.  The jury's still out on whether she's a genius, a master mimicker, or just highly motivated.  I cannot begin to name the things she says, but I'll try:&lt;br /&gt;make-up, Spider man, Wall-E,  ni-night, Avery, Summer, Michael, Avy's sad, kitty, doggie, woof-woof, horsie, bird, fishy, elephant, cow, moo, no monkey bed, airplane, go bye-bye, get down, get out, Bapa (grandpa), Mommy, Daddy, baby, walk, eyes, nose, boob, mouth, foot, no, yes, okay, I want apple juice, eat, food, water, Lacie, Ollie, Sam, Jack, socks, shoes, hat, light, hug, kiss, I'm stuck, I'm sick, broke, fix it, watch this, jump, spin, slide, cookie, candy, donuts, cup, book, medicine, hug, kiss, this, that, and (my favorite) I dunno.  &lt;br /&gt;Not that she says these words perfectly, but they are definitely discernible.  I LOVE baby speak.  She even constructs brief sentences such as "I wanna sit up there."&lt;br /&gt;She also answers almost every question in some fashion.  Do you want to eat?  Yes.  Do you want to go to bed?  No?  What are you doing?  I dunno.  You can't have that.  Why?&lt;br /&gt;I suppose she's been ahead in the game since she was born on July 23, 2007... with TWO TEETH!!!  One had to be pulled because it was loose.  How weird is that!  &lt;br /&gt;She's been walking since she was ten months and is very steady on her feet.  She climbs on everything and has been doing stairs since then (virtually) without incident.  When she had just turned  a year, she had enough prowess to climb up those huge blow up slides and slide down all by herself.  Repeatedly.  She has no fear.&lt;br /&gt;She already plays pretend.  She will pretend to be a dog.  She barks, and crawls around carrying a shoe in her mouth, all while taking orders from Avery to sit and lay for treats.  She also has asked me to put her baby doll to ni-night and feed it.&lt;br /&gt;Not to be out done by Avery, Quincy will say "Watch this!" and proceed to do a "trick" of sorts such as stomping her feet or putting her head to the ground.  She's hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;One of my new favorite antics occurs at bedtime.  Michael asked Quincy to say the prayer, so she folded her arms and bowed her head and muttered something.  Then she lifted her head and said, "What?"  I responded that she needed to say "Amen."  So she threw open her arms and yelled "AMEN!"  Talk about adorable.  She now participates in family prayer rotation.&lt;br /&gt;We think she might have been accidentally switched at birth.  Not because of the genius.  We know where she got that, but because of the stubbornness.  No idea where that came from.  She will do anything to avoid sleep.  She has this amazing glare she gives when she's not happy.  She also has a supernatural way of making someone hold her by climbing up their hold or doing a monkey hold.  She has recently been known to hit or head butt to get her way.&lt;br /&gt;Quincy LOVES people.  She goes to almost any adult that comes over and snuggles in their arms.  It's quite flattering.  She does it a bit during church, making rounds to the adults for snuggle time. &lt;br /&gt;She's also obsessed with her big brother.  She follows him around all day trying to do exactly what he does.  I wish I could say that he loved every minute of it.  &lt;br /&gt;One cannot talk of Quincy without mentioning food.  Food is her friend.  Maybe her BFF.  She'll eat almost anything.  If you've got food, you've also got a little friend in your lap.  On Christmas morning, she just kept repeating, "Nandy!  Nonuts!  Nandy!  Nonuts!"  &lt;br /&gt;Oh for crying out loud I almost forgot the very most important thing you need to know about Quincy:  She has a crazy natural growing mullet.  And I KNOW where she got that from!!!  Can't win 'em all!&lt;br /&gt;Quincy Lyn Schaefer is sooooo adorable and fabulous and an addition that we just couldn't live without!  We sure love her!  What?  What's that I hear?  I think its the bell.  Go home.  There's nothing else to see here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8078393191547042364-1505588475849634527?l=mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/feeds/1505588475849634527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8078393191547042364&amp;postID=1505588475849634527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1505588475849634527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8078393191547042364/posts/default/1505588475849634527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeandsummerschaefer.blogspot.com/2008/11/quincy.html' title='Quincy 101'/><author><name>Summer's World</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02624468551305819257</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_g7XFh2ejHmY/R9yNdzOuQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/TjGcE3W6fPg/S220/IMG_1527.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
