<?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-1235139575261099979</id><updated>2011-09-05T06:18:54.061-07:00</updated><category term='Journal'/><title type='text'>Moments Like This</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>111</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2233209386935793852</id><published>2011-06-07T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T07:28:06.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To My Kendi and My Aydri</title><content type='html'>You two are the funnest girls in the whole wide world.  I love how you fill our house with giggles, squeals, and excitement.  When you're playing together it makes everything feel so right.  I love how Kendi is so sweet to Aydri and Aydri feels loved and taken care of by her big sister.  Aydri is so eager to return that love.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kendi, you are so full of life.  You help me be the adventurous person I always wanted to be.  My life never felt so fulfilling until after you came along.  You are unbelievably smart and talented.  You excel at everything you set your mind to.  You have wonderful ideas and come up with creative things to surprise us with all the time.  Lately, you've been testing your hand at cooking in the kitchen during quiet time when I'm resting.  It's funny to see what you've come up with everyday when I get up.  I can't wait to be your mentor and have many great experiences and discoveries.  I think that the both of us will learn a great deal together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aydri, you make me smile every moment of your life.  All your little antics and mannerisms are so cute.  The way you run with a bounce in your step and ask questions in your high tone.  If I'm ever stern with you, you say so sweetly, "Sorry, mommy."  Despite the handful you can be sometimes, no one can ever stay mad at you.  You have an energy for life that no one can keep up with.  You love to run and play and sing and dance.  You seem to have no fear.  And then you can turn into the cuddliest little sweetheart at the drop of a hat.  I hope we always have that closeness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you both so much and hope to be able to provide you with everything you need.  Love, mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2233209386935793852?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2233209386935793852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2233209386935793852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2233209386935793852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2233209386935793852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-my-kendi-and-my-aydri.html' title='To My Kendi and My Aydri'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8966012100161114754</id><published>2010-12-08T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T16:25:37.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Brag Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has started putting words together.  Some I've heard her say today are:  "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ew&lt;/span&gt;, gross,"  "Drink of water," "Bye, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Deh&lt;/span&gt; wee" (Cari) and "I don't know."  She says new things everyday.  Some words that surprise people because of how clear she says them are, "What!" "YES!" "uh huh" and "uh uh."  I love this stage, she is so funny.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; loves to sing.  She will sing for hours.  She wakes up singing and sometimes we hear her singing in the middle of the night.  She loves to dance too.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; have been playing really well together lately.  They will play together non stop for over an hour.  It's so fun to hear them giggling together.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Occasionally&lt;/span&gt;, they fight too.  I have to talk them through their conflicts to show them how to get along.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kendi has quite the imagination.  She comes up with creative names like, Shula, Ellie, Pellie, Jellie, Jeskie, Leesie, Mulan, Crasie, Barbie and Chellie.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8966012100161114754?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8966012100161114754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8966012100161114754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8966012100161114754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8966012100161114754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/12/another-brag-post.html' title='Another Brag Post'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7483436055160996811</id><published>2010-10-24T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T10:37:36.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>There's no way I'm going to catch up with everything that I should be writing about so I won't even try.  Here's the things I love about my kids lately.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kendi has so much personality and she is getting so grown up.  It almost scares me how independent she is.  I love spending time with her and try to take her with me somewhere everyday just because of how much fun we have.  Lately, she has been coloring a lot for the local coloring contests. She has entered seven so far and is still coloring everyday to enter more.  She loves it.  She loves her preschool group.  She is good at writing all the letters and numbers and doing all the activities.  She is really outgoing and loves to get involved in whatever is going on.  We are living with my parents while the house is being built and there aren't a lot of kids here.  She made friends with the seventy something year old man next door.  She talks to him for hours.  Recently, Jared and I took her to St. George with us to check out some furniture sales.  She loves chinese food and we wanted to go somewhere fun so we took her to Mongolian BBQ.  She loved picking out items to put in her bowl, but she was so hungry that she grabbed it while I was filling my bowl.  I lost her for a minute.  I found her sitting at an empty, dirty table eating her raw noodles with her fingers. I had to convince her to come back and add sauce and have it cooked.  She smiled at the guy that cooked her noodles and he was friendly back.  They made her some spring loaded chop sticks and she ate with them the whole time.  She had a blast.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aydri is growing up so fast that I can't get things written down before she into something new.  I just decided to sit down and write whatever I can remember.  She is talking and communicating a lot lately.  Her words aren't exactly clear, but her cute little voice is so sweet.  She loves to give squeezes and kisses.  She likes to play high five games and sing itsy bitsy spider.  She knows when she is tired and last night she asked me to go "night night."  I was surprised and didn't think that was really what she meant, but she led me to her bed and went to sleep.  Just now, she fell asleep next to me on my bed.  She has gotten tall like her sister and is predicted to be 5' 7.5".  She copies phrases that her sister says like, "mama, mama, mama" and "daddy, daddy, ummm."   She likes to sit on top of whatever I'm trying to do.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We sure love our kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7483436055160996811?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7483436055160996811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7483436055160996811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7483436055160996811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7483436055160996811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/10/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3923913049730077934</id><published>2010-09-04T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T16:27:20.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's words</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; seems to be learning multiple words everyday now.  My favorite is "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bumpa&lt;/span&gt;" for Grandpa.  She finally figured out how to say no.  No matter what questions she is answering, she doesn't just say, no, she always yells it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3923913049730077934?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3923913049730077934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3923913049730077934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3923913049730077934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3923913049730077934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/09/aydris-words.html' title='Aydri&apos;s words'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3489346323565843960</id><published>2010-07-28T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T11:18:08.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creative</title><content type='html'>Kendi's recent made-up words are "Chicka chicka wow wow!" and "Shoosh!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Several months ago her favorite words were, "Okie dokie, artichockie!" and "Chicka chicka boom boom, will there be enough room?"  These last two she got from books and movies, but the ones she's saying now are her own creation.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's also been very creative with making things lately.  She's seen me take apart  clothes to make into birthday presents and other things and she wants to do the same.  I've limited her to paper though.  She has made all kinds of costume creations for barbie like crowns and dresses.  She drew pictures of baby chick body parts and cut them out and taped them together.  I was very impressed.  I love to see her be creative with ordinary things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3489346323565843960?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3489346323565843960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3489346323565843960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3489346323565843960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3489346323565843960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/07/creative.html' title='Creative'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7764684959492759666</id><published>2010-07-28T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T08:27:30.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy's Girl</title><content type='html'>Lately, Jared has been working from home.  He gets up at 4 am to get a full days work in before he goes to work on the house for 10 hours.  Aydri doesn't understand that he's working.  If he doesn't have the door closed then he ends up working with Aydri on his lap.  If the door is shut then she stands outside knocking with her little fist and yelling, "DADDY!"  It's kind of cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7764684959492759666?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7764684959492759666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7764684959492759666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7764684959492759666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7764684959492759666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/07/daddys-girl.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Girl'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2469199385928264283</id><published>2010-07-26T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T20:26:17.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Worker</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has learned to read.  It's been a process and I don't know why I haven't mentioned it yet.  Right now she is four sets into the Family Reader books.  We've been reading these books since Christmas when we got them from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gma&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gpa&lt;/span&gt; Barnes.  Before that she learned the alphabet and letter sounds with hooked on phonics.  Her attention span has gone from just a few minutes to over an hour.  She can read the books all by herself.  I'm so proud of her.  I feel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;inadequate&lt;/span&gt; to be her teacher.  I'm going to try to find a program that can help me help her. We are planning on home-schooling our kids.  I started teaching Kendi a little at a time just to see what would happen.  Her ambitions for learning are what have kept us going.  It is our favorite time of day and we don't seem to have any conflict during lessons.  I've tried to figure out what makes this time of day run so smoothly so that I can apply it to the rest of our day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2469199385928264283?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2469199385928264283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2469199385928264283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2469199385928264283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2469199385928264283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/07/hard-worker.html' title='Hard Worker'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4075047327295609994</id><published>2010-07-26T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T20:15:26.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Break"fast?</title><content type='html'>Usually, I'm awake before my kids and after Jared has left for either basketball or work.  I normally get to eat my breakfast in peace.  Lately, I've been sick and  have lost the ability to hear, smell and breath while I'm asleep.  So I don't get much sleep and Jared has to stay home and work while he waits for me to get up and watch the kids.  So lately, when I eat my breakfast the kids are hanging on me and needing me to get them food, bottles, wipe bums, etc.  This morning Aydri was hanging on me and wanting me to pick her up.  When she throws a tantrum I try to ignore it.  Aydri's tantrums are wild.  She got to the point of screaming her head off.  I was calmly eating my breakfast and repeating "Say up, please" to her over and over.  All of a sudden she stopped crying and quietly cried, "uhh, peese."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aydri doesn't talk much so this was really sweet.  Needless to say, I picked her up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4075047327295609994?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4075047327295609994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4075047327295609994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4075047327295609994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4075047327295609994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/07/breakfast.html' title='&quot;Break&quot;fast?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4333319633804190125</id><published>2010-05-27T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T09:28:53.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's First Year</title><content type='html'>I know this is more than a month late.  I just wanted to be able to remember everything when I sat down to do it.  I'm sure I'll come back and add what I'm going to forget right now.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is truly as unique as her sister and even more so they are unique from each other.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is generally mild and soft spoken until she decides to get stubborn about something.  Then her temper flares and she shows an angry streak that you wouldn't think a one year old was capable of.  At this point in time, it is funny and entertaining, but I'm sure we'll have to come up with some coping &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;strategies&lt;/span&gt; for her as she gets older.  When you try to help or distract her she will swat and grunt at you and then throw herself in the opposite direction.  She's had this temper from the moment she was born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is very funny about dangerous things.  She seems to have no fear.  She will throw herself down stairways and laugh and want to do it again.  We tried teaching her how to go up and down the way we taught &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;, but she loses interest in doing it safely.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is also a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;feisty&lt;/span&gt; with her sister.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is good to not fight and get mad at her, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; seems to think she can take her on.  Lately, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; gets jealous if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is in my lap or has a blanket that she wants.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; will decide that she wants that blanket and no other.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; will push and pull on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and does not give up until &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; gives in.  I'm glad that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is a great big sister, but this is another thing we're going to have work on as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; gets older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; likes to act like a big person.  She will climb up on chairs and just sit there like big people do.  She's tries to put on clothes and shoes that bigger people wear and use &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;utensils&lt;/span&gt; at mealtimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has always been full of smiles and hugs and kisses.  If you ask her for a kiss she will blow you one from her forehead.  When she gives a hug she will lay her head against whatever part of you she can reach.  She always, always has a smile, even when she doesn't feel good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her personality has been growing bigger everyday.  I'm going to miss the sweet little baby that she's been, but I know we'll love getting more and more of her personality as she gets older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4333319633804190125?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4333319633804190125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4333319633804190125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4333319633804190125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4333319633804190125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/05/aydris-first-year.html' title='Aydri&apos;s First Year'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1575535813424843879</id><published>2010-04-01T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T11:36:03.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri - 11 months old</title><content type='html'>I've been avoiding this post because eleven months is not a baby anymore.  She's transitioning into being a toddler.  Its sad and exciting at the same time.  Aydri has developed so much personality lately.  She is a very loving and cuddly little girl.  She's always been happy and smile, but lately she gives everyone hugs and snuggles.  Its so precious.  She gets excited easily and loves to laugh just because everyone else is laughing.  She sings along and tells big stories when there is lots of conversation going on.  I can tell she understands a lot more now.  I can ask for loves and tell her "no, no" or "give that to mama."  As sweet and quiet as she is, she can put up a good fight.  If I try to give her a bottle and she doesn't want it, at first she will swat at it and then grab it and throw it.  The day that she had an allergic reaction to eggs we were told to give her medicine whenever her rash started to come back.  If we didn't she would have a much worse reaction than the first one.  For this reason we didn't want to go to sleep that night not knowing how long the medicine would last.  We decided to give her blessing.  She did not like having hands on her head.  Throughout the blessing she would grab at them and try to throw them off.  She loves to do patty cake, Here's Where the Cat Sits and Shoe the Little Horsey.  She likes to throw stuff in the toilet and pull trash out of the trash can.  She like to stand backwards on the church benches and play with whoever is sitting behind us.  She is starting to interact with kids more.  She tries to get Kendi to play with you.  She is pretty independent and can entertain herself for long periods of time.  She makes the most adorable animal sounds, but most of the time she will only do it for Gma Bulloch.  She won't perform for anyone, ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1575535813424843879?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1575535813424843879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1575535813424843879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1575535813424843879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1575535813424843879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/04/aydri-11-months-old.html' title='Aydri - 11 months old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2460776321771740924</id><published>2010-03-15T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T12:02:39.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's Quirks</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aydri loves to jump on and snuggle with pillows.  She has to try all of them out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She loves to climb up to windows and knock on them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She puts her hands on her head when she's mad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She thinks she needs to help you wipe her dirty bum.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At church she moves from person to person and stares at them until they smile at her and then she smiles back.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She answers "yes" to every question.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&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/1235139575261099979-2460776321771740924?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2460776321771740924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2460776321771740924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2460776321771740924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2460776321771740924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/03/aydris-quirks.html' title='Aydri&apos;s Quirks'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-48064186654107063</id><published>2010-03-09T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T12:54:19.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Sister</title><content type='html'>This morning I woke up a 5 am to the sound of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; crying.  We've been doing the delayed response method with her and so far its been working.  She's been sleeping really well lately.  We've even been experimenting with letting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; sleep in her own bed again with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; in the same room.  So when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; started crying I wondered what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was going to do.  After about a minute I could hear this really sweet singing.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was making up a song to sing to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt;.  She immediately settled down and went back to sleep.  I couldn't believe how precious it was.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is such a sweetheart to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, today, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has been teething worse than ever.  She whines, screeches and cries &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;incessantly&lt;/span&gt;.  Tylenol doesn't seem to be helping.  I feel bad for her, but its really wearing on me too.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; got mad about it at one point and I had to explain why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; was upset.  I had gotten to the point where I just wanted to put a pillow over my head and go to sleep, but that wasn't an option, so I bundled her up and sat in the rocking chair with her.  When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; gave up sitting in my lap I went to check on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and I found her in her room asleep with the door shut.  Apparently, she had had enough too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-48064186654107063?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/48064186654107063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=48064186654107063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/48064186654107063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/48064186654107063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/03/good-sister.html' title='Good Sister'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7729601095586765094</id><published>2010-02-22T11:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T11:14:32.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stomach Flu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; came down with the stomach flu a couple of weeks ago.  We would tell her she looked very pale.  She would wake up after resting and say, "Mom, do I still look like a pail?"  I tried to explain to her that this was a different kind of pale that meant her face didn't have any color.  A few days later she told my mom that when she was sick she looked like a pail that didn't have any color.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7729601095586765094?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7729601095586765094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7729601095586765094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7729601095586765094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7729601095586765094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/02/stomach-flu.html' title='Stomach Flu'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5676607805638566717</id><published>2010-02-22T10:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T11:11:09.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri - 10 Months Old</title><content type='html'>You're pretty good at keeping up with your sister.  You crawl very fast and quiet.  You sneak away from us or get under our feet without us even realizing you moved.  You also stand up by yourself and walk if someone is holding your hands.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You've learned how to explore by yourself.  You spend most of your time emptying drawers and cupboards.  I have to follow behind you and clean up.  Staircases don't scare you at all.  You prefer to go down head first even after hours of teaching you how to up and down.  You think its funny to stand up and fall down them.  All we can do for you now is keep you away from them.  You say words like, "yes,"  and "it is," but the only ones you say and understand are, "Bah bye, Dada" and "Mama."  You wave "night, night."  You know when its time for bed.  We snuggle your blanket around you and you don't even move, you just go right to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You make the funniest "talking" sounds.  You pick up the phone and the remote and hold them to your ear and yell into them.  Your very animated like your daddy.  You prefer certain people at certain times.  You yell for daddy when you wake up in the morning, but when you're hungry and when you were sick you only wanted mom. You get excited whenever you see your grandma's.  You still smile at everything.  Even when your sick and lethargic we can get a smile out of you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5676607805638566717?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5676607805638566717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5676607805638566717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5676607805638566717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5676607805638566717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/02/dear-aydri-10-months-old.html' title='Dear Aydri - 10 Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3026345617351562119</id><published>2010-01-25T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T08:14:48.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunbeam</title><content type='html'>Kendi's version:&lt;br /&gt;yffffdeswwwwwwwwwwtststsststssstqwddddddddddddddddddddw4r4444332&lt;br /&gt;qqryyrwewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww&lt;br /&gt;w&lt;br /&gt;wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww&lt;br /&gt;4uu41nrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr&lt;br /&gt;rrrrrrrryfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff4y33333333333333333333333nnnnxrfxxxxxtttttttttxxxxxxx&lt;br /&gt;x&lt;br /&gt;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxtx4xrx444444433333333333xxxxxxx&lt;br /&gt;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxufittt4cr4x4uxueury4od45r4ri4r48ri74xxxxxrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr5r6x4&lt;br /&gt;trzxt3444444444zrreezzzzzz&lt;br /&gt;eaaaax9oxxxxxxxxx4xox6exgs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My version:&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Kendi gave the prayer in primary.  I went in to watch her.  When I went in the back door I realized there was no where to stand.  So I went back out to go in the side door.  Apparently, Kendi saw me leave because when I came back in she was puckered up ready to cry.  After she saw me she still wouldn't stop crying.  I kind of knew this was going to happen.  She is so good as long as I'm not there, but if I'm there she gets moody.  So I pulled her aside and tried to talk to her about giving the prayer.  For some reason, she was set on giving the talk and was refusing to say the prayer and was getting more upset.  Finally, I told her I had a candy bar in my bag if she would say the prayer.  She immediatly perked right up and went back to her chair.  I wasn't sure if Kendi was going to need help.  She is so good at giving prayers at home.  Some time inbetween her going back to her seat and giving the prayer I got trapped between two isles of chairs.  Yes, we have a huge primary.  There are thirty sunbeams alone.  Anyway, I figured the leaders could help her if she needed it.  When it was her turn she got right up there and said a very well thought out prayer all by herself.  Even the other primary kids were impressed and kept telling her she did such a good job.  It was a proud moment for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3026345617351562119?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3026345617351562119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3026345617351562119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3026345617351562119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3026345617351562119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunbeam.html' title='Sunbeam'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-803805565974297196</id><published>2010-01-22T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T08:01:48.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching On</title><content type='html'>We've been telling and showing aydri how to say "bye, bye" for a little while now. She will wave bye bye occationally, but it seemed very random and I didn't really think she understood completely. Well, today, Kendi brought a friend home with her from Ballet and I had them go in her room where they could play with all the toys without worrying about aydri choking on any of them. I was listening to them on the moniter when I could hear aydri's voice in there too. I went and picked her up and took her out. As I was setting her down in the living room she waved and said, "bah, bah," a few times. It was so cute to see her finally say it like she knew what was going on even if it was a minute too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Aydri thinks she can stand all by herself.  She does for a second and then crashes hard.  I can never get to her fast enough.  I don't know why she falls so hard.  I hope she gets better at it soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-803805565974297196?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/803805565974297196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=803805565974297196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/803805565974297196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/803805565974297196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/01/catching-on.html' title='Catching On'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3331530577082153744</id><published>2010-01-20T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T10:49:17.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri - 9 months</title><content type='html'>My how time flies.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Adyri&lt;/span&gt; is getting quite the personality lately.  It crazy how different two sisters can be, but its fun to note the differences.  I always knew &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was very stubborn, but I did not expect &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; to be even more stubborn than her.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is a hundred times more stubborn, but when she finally settles into something she is content with her lot.  They differ in that as well.  If &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; isn't happy with something, like bedtime, she will never be happy with it.  Recently, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has been waking up every hour all night, every night.  Jared and I have been switching two nights on, two nights off.  We were both feeling like we were at the end of our rope so I decided to try the delayed response &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;method&lt;/span&gt;.  In other words, just let her cry it out.  I had done this with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; at about the same age.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; only cried for seven minutes the first night.  I thought it was too easy, but then she always cried for a couple of minutes &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; we put her down.  It did help her sleep all the way through the night.  When we tried this with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; I was expecting &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;similar&lt;/span&gt; results.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; cried off and on for a solid hour.  When she finally fell asleep she stayed asleep all night and hasn't cried in her crib since.  She goes right down for naps and sleeps til shes done.  She's figured out that we don't come in anymore and seems to be fine with now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to learn that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is vocal about things she doesn't like and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; fights things she doesn't like.  When &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; didn't want her diaper changed she would just scream.  When &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; doesn't want her diaper changed she grabs and swats my hands.  Funny girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has started reaching for people she likes.  Especially Jared when he gets home from work.  And &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Gma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bulloch&lt;/span&gt; pretty much whenever she can.  She cussed and screamed at the doctor and wouldn't stop crying.  It was the first time would couldn't get her to stop.  We can leave her with anyone in the family and she does fine.  She's pretty good with most strangers as long as they're not putting cold stethoscopes on her.  She plays very well especially if &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; will play with her.  She explores everything and is very good at sneaking off.  She climbs on everything and tries to shake it.  She will cry if you pick her up from &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Gma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bulloch's&lt;/span&gt; crib because it shakes especially well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3331530577082153744?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3331530577082153744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3331530577082153744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3331530577082153744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3331530577082153744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/01/aydri-9-months.html' title='Aydri - 9 months'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5922712211616028332</id><published>2010-01-04T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T13:04:01.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri - 8 Months Old</title><content type='html'>You're not very enthusiastic about eating.  You would rather be  playing and you get distracted by other people in the room.  It takes quite a while to get a good meal down.  Lots of games and trying to sneak food in your mouth.  Very opposite from how your sister ate.  We couldn't shovel it in fast enough for her.  You get the most excited when I say, "All done!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are an explorer.  And a sneaky one too.  I think your right there by me and when I look up you've &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;disappeared&lt;/span&gt; without a sound.  You are good at getting yourself in trouble.  You love to pull your self up on everything and you'll even grab a toy and stand there for a second.  You have different ways of crawling depending on what you're doing.  You'll crawl around using the bottom of your right foot so you can transition to sitting right away when you need to.  When you get excited to get somewhere you'll try to crawl so fast that you almost stay in place.  Its very cold outside, but you love to go for stroller rides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You laugh a lot when you're really tired.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; makes you laugh the hardest.  You play peekaboo with yourself by pulling the blankets up and down over your head.  You love to sing whenever someone else starts singing.  You &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;jibber&lt;/span&gt; jabber and make all kinds of funny sounds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5922712211616028332?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5922712211616028332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5922712211616028332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5922712211616028332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5922712211616028332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-aydri-8-months-old.html' title='Dear Aydri - 8 Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6048227111413674333</id><published>2009-12-18T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T13:20:15.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, December 17th</title><content type='html'>As I put my days into writing it seems like everyday is so much like the last, but I know they are not.  I wish their was a way to record things as they happen.  There are so many cute and funny things that the kids do that are so quickly forgotten.  I can't even remember what they were just yesterday.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see the Positive Parenting started to have an effect on Kendi.  Instead of throwing fits she just threatens to throw fits.  Some things that she has said are, "If you don't let me, I will run away," and "If I can't then I'll be mad."  I just ignore these statments just I like I would a real fit and she doesn't really do it.  I think she's realized that her fits don't gain any attention anymore, but she doesn't know how to get her way yet.  I know that she starts to act up more if I'm not giving her adequate attention for behaving well.  Its hard to get over the mentality of igoring your kids when they are good in fear of disrupting their good mood by talking to them.  This book has also made me realize that most negative behavior, even from adults, is for attention and no other payoff.  There is definetly a more positive atmosphere in our home lately and I didn't even think it was that bad before.  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aydri is starting to stand by herself.  Just a few days ago she wasn't even pulling herself up at all.  And then when she started she was really wobbly.  I realize that I need to take pictures when she first starts doing something new because by the time I get the camera out she mastered it and is on to something else.  I thought my Christmas decorations would be safe through Christmas, but this morning she was getting anything within sight.  I hope she doesn't start climbing the tree.  I'm thinking about putting it on top of the table.  I'm glad I have one of those really high ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Jared came home for lunch, I had him drop us off at my parents while he went to work with Dave.  I worked on tags for our Christmas gifts.  Jared came home late because they had gotten really excited about something new they want to create.  We've been talking to Dave and his family about home schooling.  I'd like to get started with Kendi.  Right now she is learning to read with Hooked on Phonics and a lot of help from me.  Its fun to watch her learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Jared got done with Dave, we left Aydri with my parents so we visit some friends.  We went home first and ate dinner and made some more snowy popcorn.  The Schaffers had invited us over for Christmas treats and boy did they have a lot of treats.  It was fun.  Kendi watched something about Casper Christmas while we talked about food, family, politics and gospel.  We really enjoyed our time at their home and look forward to spending more time with them.  Brother Schaffer is in the High Priest Group Leadership with Jared so they are good friends.  His wife is the sweetest lady you'll ever meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left there to go get Aydri.  Chad was still at my parents house so we stayed to play a game of cards.  We played Mormon Bridge.  Jared and I kept switching off with the lead score.  Jared and I never win so this was fun and we teased each other the whole time.  Kendi even played with Grandma's help.  Grandpa took the game way too seriously as usual.  Cari was tired and just played probably more for us.  Kendi got bored and didn't finish with us, but she thought she was the winner anyway.  Aydri was so tired by the time we were done that I actually rocked her to sleep in my arms.  That doesn't happen very often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We borrowed Its a Wonderful Life and went home.  When I got there I was putting away the popcorn we had made and realized that the popcorn we had already put into cans tasted like spray paint.  I used some can that had blue lids so I painted them silver and put a bow on top to make look like presents.  We had to call the Schaffers and tell them not to eat the popcorn.  I was livid.  I have sleep issue to begin with and being mad doesn't help so I had Jared bring the laptop in the bedroom so I could fall asleep watching Its a Wonderful Life.  That was a great idea.  Love that movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6048227111413674333?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6048227111413674333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6048227111413674333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6048227111413674333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6048227111413674333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/thursday-december-17th.html' title='Thursday, December 17th'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2124196254587893435</id><published>2009-12-17T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T13:44:56.635-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, December 16th</title><content type='html'>Jared got off to a late start so I knew it was going to be a longer day for me.  Everything started out like it normally does.  Kendi and I cleaned and started laundry.  Aydri played and took naps.  Aydri is getting to be a handful.  Gone are the days when she would just sit in one spot and play with toys.  Now she thinks she needs to climb on everything constantly.  She's even starting to cruise.  She's too little to do this.  You can barely see her head over the top of the couch cushions as she shimmy's along.  She even thinks she needs to stand up in the bathtub.  I let her stand up as long as she wants to so she will get stonger and have more control, but I have to be right there in case she falls, which she almost always does.  Silly girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi is being funny about getting bigger.  She will stand up and say, "Look how big I am."  After cleaning the car out I installed her carseat so that we could just buckle her in with a seatbelt and she loves it.  Also, whenever I tell her that its time for a bath she asks to take a shower like a big person.  She got especially excited this morning and squeeled, "I wear seatbelts and take showers! I'm so 'sited!"  She makes me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got the bathrooms cleaned that I had been meaning to do for two days.  For some odd reason as I was finishing up I started to feel completely worn out.  Aydri hadn't been sleeping well during her naps so I put her down so I could take a nap.  I told Kendi to wake me up if Aydri cried.  Kendi loves responsibity and offered to take care of Aydri when she woke up.  I thought I would hear her if she woke up while I was asleep.  Thinking she would finally take a long nap I was dissapointed to be woken up after about ten minutes of sleep.  Kendi had even tried to give her her binkie, but she was ready to get up.  Once again Kendi offered to "babysit" so I could rest.  I really wasn't feeling well so I layed down on the couch and watched the kids play.  Kendi was such a sweetheart.  She brought me a blanket and a teddy bear.  She would come over and stand by me and say, "I'm taking care of you," or "I love you, mommy."  She would tuck in the blanket and even climbed on top of me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jared finally came home at four and could tell I wasn't feel well.  He made dinner and took care of the kids while I continued to rest.  We went to his parents early to watch the rest of the finaly of SYTYCD.  I continued to lay on the couch over there and probably layed there for three hours.  Luckily Aydri was tired enough to fall asleep on her dad while we watched the show.  We went home and I went straight to bed.  I thought I was on the downhill side of this sickness, but that was the worst day I had had yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2124196254587893435?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2124196254587893435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2124196254587893435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2124196254587893435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2124196254587893435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/wednesday-december-16th.html' title='Wednesday, December 16th'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5605181248526136709</id><published>2009-12-16T08:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T09:35:16.432-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday, December 15th</title><content type='html'>Tuesday was a pretty typical weekday for us. Jared went to work early so he could come by 3 pm. I love it when he is able to do this. Three is about the time I start getting worn out and less patient. While Jared was at work, Kendi and I did dishes, folded towels, worked on Christmas presents and tried to clean the kitchen before we started making more snowy popcorn. Kendi got so whiny that I had to put her down for a nap. I wanted to get the bathrooms cleaned, but I couldn't get the kids to sleep at the same time. Kendi is usually really good at helping me with housework, but we just didn't get them done before Jared came home. Aydri played really well and I had to rock her to sleep before she would take any naps. Her teething and stuffy nose have made it hard for her to get to sleep and we are creating more bad habits. I feel like with some things you just have to do what you need to in order to get by. Especially with babies. I actually enjoy rocking her to sleep. We get to snuggle and there doesn't seem to be anything more satisfying than a baby falling asleep in your arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Jared got home, the plan was to take the Expedition to the Southwest Tech garage to get the brakes done and have the O2 sensors looked at and then clean our car. Jared had been on the phone with his distributor and found out some good news concerning Deseret Book. This was a huge relief as we have not had the sales we were used when we sold the artwork ourselves. When Jared went to start the Expedition the battery was dead. We decided that since our car battery was struggling as well we would barrow a battery charger to charge them both that night (although we later forgot). *Sigh* We still wanted to clean our car so we took the kids to my parents. My mom wasn't there right away so we hung out with Cari for a little bit. Aydri just loves Cari and was being funny with her. She would lay on Cari's lap while she chewed on her sippy cup. Cari would sit her up and she would fall back in her lap. After several times of doing this we realized that Aydri was doing it on purpose, like it was a game. She's so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my mom got home we left the kids to go clean the car. I had noticed that our car seems to be getting smelly with age. Or maybe its because Jared and his buddies take it to play basketball. Whatever the reason, I had recently noticed an old stinky boy smell which means that it must be bad if the owner can smell it. I was determined to get the whole thing shampooed. We drove around and coudn't find any shampoo machines that still worked. So just went to Jared's parents house to vacuum and spray it down. I think I'll look into making some air fresheners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to my parents house, ate dinner and played Settlers (I know, again). Jared won. We watched NCIS while Aydri took a nap. When Aydri woke up we went up to Jared's parent's house to watch SYTYCD. This is a tradition of ours. It was the finaly. The missionaries called just as we started watching. One of them is Filipino and wanted to talk to Jared in Tagalog before he went home. They also wanted Jared to draw something for their Zone Conference. Somehow we ended up staying very late and we got very tired. Aydri fell asleep on the way home and didn't even wake up when I took her clothes off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5605181248526136709?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5605181248526136709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5605181248526136709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5605181248526136709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5605181248526136709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/tuesday-december-15th.html' title='Tuesday, December 15th'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1162426726246945763</id><published>2009-12-15T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T12:58:27.541-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Journal'/><title type='text'>Monday, December 14th</title><content type='html'>We were all feeling a lot better, but I still didn't feel like a had much energy. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; seemed to be doing a lot better than she had been for a while. Jared always wakes up really early to start working so he can come home early. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; used to wake him up around 5 am, but lately she's been sleeping in til 6 or 7 so he didn't get to work as early as he'd like. I stay home with the kids and do housework that never gets finished to the point I would like. I also work from home and never get as much done as I would like to there either. My main priority is my kids and I try to make sure they get the attention they need. The girls are actually really good at playing by themselves and with each other. The only problem is that they make a wreck of the house. I'm glad though because I would rather have them playing creatively than sitting on their behinds in front of the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; or computer. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is getting better at helping me cleanup afterward. We had some friends drop by with Christmas gifts and Kendi I started to make some for our neighbors. We've been experimenting with Snowy Popcorn and peppermint candy canes. We ate the whole first batch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jared came home from work frustrated because so many people wanted him to do things for them and he couldn't physically do it all. Jared is currently working as a web developer. He goes to his parents house where its quiet. We also try to sell his art, but it isn't our whole focus right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Jared came home we had family night. Our lessons are short for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and she loves family night. We did a lesson out of last years &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;December&lt;/span&gt; friend. We talked about Temple's and Snowflakes and how they are all unique. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; did an activity where she matched the snowflakes to find out which prophet dedicated which temple. Then we made paper snowflakes to hang in our window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we had dinner and went shopping. We bought a toy for the toy drive and some groceries and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;grabbed&lt;/span&gt; a movie on the way out. We went home, watched the movie, and went to bed. Jared said he really enjoyed his evening and felt better after having been frustrated with work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1162426726246945763?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1162426726246945763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1162426726246945763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1162426726246945763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1162426726246945763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/monday-december-14th.html' title='Monday, December 14th'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7250402838989445448</id><published>2009-12-15T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T12:35:58.819-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Journal'/><title type='text'>Sunday, December 13</title><content type='html'>I hate how busy this time of year is.  This is the time of year when I especially want things to slow down.  I've decided to keep a short daily journal for at least one week of every month.  I want to remember the simple everyday things we do as well as the big events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Sunday our whole family woke up sick.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has had a stuffy nose for a few days now and the rest of us finally came down with it.  Jared had to cancel on his missionary meeting and I had to find a substitute for the nursery class that I was supposed to substitute.  Why doesn't anyone answer their phones on Sunday?  Without going to church our Sunday felt extremely long.  We figured that we had already exposed my family to the sickness so we went over there to play our traditional game of Settlers.  When we got there my Aunt Bonnie was there.  It was fun to visit with her.  Then her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;daughter&lt;/span&gt;, my cousin Trish, showed up with her boyfriend, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kade&lt;/span&gt;.  We found out that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kade&lt;/span&gt; is going to school at the Southwest Tech Center and works in a garage that will fix your car for free.  They just happened to be working on things that our needs right now.  What a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went home early and went to bed.  We were all tire from being sick and being up all night with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7250402838989445448?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7250402838989445448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7250402838989445448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7250402838989445448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7250402838989445448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/sunday-december-13.html' title='Sunday, December 13'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-9092904607779896301</id><published>2009-12-15T12:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T12:25:51.411-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids, Kids, Kids</title><content type='html'>There's lots of things going on with the kids.  They do clever things everyday and I need to be better at writing them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; can crawl normal now, but most of the time she prefers not too.  She can pull herself up on to anything within reach and that seems to be her favorite thing to do these days.  We noticed her third tooth coming in just yesterday.  She is currently very congested so this had made for several miserable nights for all of us.  She has been sleeping in the crib in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; room.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; loves this and normally &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; sleeps really well in the crib.  She says Dada now as well as Mama and sometimes it sounds like she says &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; too.  She has a lot of personality and has become very vocal in the last few weeks.  Another loud person to compete with in the house.  Her little antics make us laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is a little sweetheart.  I've been reading a book about positive parenting and it has helped us get along very well.  She has always been a sweetheart, but she has a stubborn streak and has always been a fit thrower.  Since I've been reading this positive parenting book I haven't had to put in time out anymore.  In fact I think time out is silly now.  It never worked long term and it wasn't always an option.  Thanks to Jana for getting me this book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week and a half ago we went to Monroe for a boutique show to sell art.  It was a great experience and we got to see a lot of my family that lives in that area.  As we were cleaning up, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; came showed up with my cousins that are around her age.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; noticed a lady that was dressed up as Mrs. Claus.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; followed her around for a few minutes until Mrs. Claus noticed her.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; gave her a big hug and told her that she wanted a scooter and barbies for Christmas.  It was adorable, I wish I had my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;camera&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;permanently&lt;/span&gt; attached to me for moments like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my girls so much.  Its so much more fun to relive the wonders of Christmas through the eyes of your kids.  I would say its even more fun than when I was a kid myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-9092904607779896301?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/9092904607779896301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=9092904607779896301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9092904607779896301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9092904607779896301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/12/kids-kids-kids.html' title='Kids, Kids, Kids'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3154841338044268692</id><published>2009-11-24T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T10:31:32.144-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri - Seven Months</title><content type='html'>I didn't realize that when &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; would turn seven months old it would hit me that she isn't a little baby anymore.  She is an older baby now.  This really has been a big month of milestones for her too.  She pretty much can go anywhere she wants.  She army crawls and is pretty quick at it.  She will get on her hands and knees and rock back and forth like most baby's do before they crawl. She will even take one step and then dive back down and army crawl.  Recently, she will even get up on her hands and feet.  She has also figured out how to get back on her bum from crawling.  She folds her knees up underneath her and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;shimmys&lt;/span&gt; her hands back until she lands on her bum and then sits up.  Its very entertaining to watch. I can't believe she's figured it out already.  She eats all kinds of foods now and has tried juice, but doesn't really like it.  I don't think its what she's expecting when she tastes it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We usually stay out visiting family in the evenings till about her bedtime.  Sometimes she falls asleep in the car on the way home. I've even considered bringing her pajamas with us so she's ready for bed when we put her in the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;car seat&lt;/span&gt; to take her home.  If she's not already asleep, I usually get her ready while &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and Jared read stories. When she's ready I take her in to say goodnight and give hugs and kisses.  I lay her down in her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;bassinet&lt;/span&gt; and she is usually really good at falling asleep by herself.  Its so cute to see the way she rolls over, pulls the blanket to her face and closes her eyes.  Lately, she has been waking up more in the night.  I think her teeth are bothering her enough to wake her up and for her to realize she is hungry so she cries for a bottle.  We get less sleep now than we did when she was a newborn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wakes up for the day around seven.  Jared is usually up by then so he takes her out and feeds her while I get up.  She doesn't stay awake too long before she goes down for her first nap.  When she wakes up from her nap she gets her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;baby food&lt;/span&gt; breakfast of fruit and cereal with her vitamins.  She loves it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has started making more than just &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;vowel&lt;/span&gt; sounds.  She jabbers like she knows what she's saying.  I've taught her how to say mama really well, but she only says it when she's whining.  Backfired on me.  She likes to copy noises and games we play.  Aunt Cari got her clapping and now whenever someone says "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;" she will start clapping.  Jared was blowing raspberries on her neck a few days ago.  She would laugh so hard and then try to do it back to Jared.  She would stick her tongue out as she would try.  It was adorable.  She is very interactive now and fun to play with.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has a ball.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; follows her around while &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; hides and they both laugh so hard.  They torture each other and love it at the same time.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; will crawl to her toys and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; will snatch them just before she gets there.  They go all over the place doing that.  They both love it.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; likes to grab &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;.  Sometimes &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; thinks its funny and sometimes she doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; gets so excited when Jared comes home from work, but as soon as he leaves the room she starts crying.  She knows that I come and go all the time so she doesn't cry when I leave.  She stares at strangers more, but still has a smile for everyone.  We can tell that she's learning at a much quicker pace now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3154841338044268692?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3154841338044268692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3154841338044268692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3154841338044268692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3154841338044268692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/11/aydri-seven-months.html' title='Aydri - Seven Months'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4514493780807460992</id><published>2009-11-06T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T08:16:50.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; latest little thing is to say "Yes man," whenever I ask her a question.  She must have heard people saying, "Yes ma'am," in a movie, but she doesn't know the word ma'am.  She always says it so proper and politely.  It makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; is turning into a little explorer.  She scoot/crawls anywhere she wants to go.  Her latest favorite discoveries are french fries and cheerios.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, I was visiting my parents house.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was in the back bedroom watching Mary Poppins.  All of a sudden we heard a crash coming from the room she was in.  Jared went to investigate.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had been watching the part with the penguins where Burt adjusts his pants to dance like the penguins.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wanted to dance like penguins too.  She was standing on the bed and had adjusted her pants to be down around her ankles.  When she tried to dance she fell off the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always ask &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; after church about what she did in nursery.  Last Sunday she had a picture she had colored that said, "I can be happy when I say I'm sorry."  So I asked &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; what she had learned about and she told me about a story she had heard.  I prodded her a little further to see if she had learned about saying sorry and she quickly responded,  "I didn't hit Blythe."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4514493780807460992?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4514493780807460992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4514493780807460992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4514493780807460992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4514493780807460992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/11/yes-man.html' title='Yes Man'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-9141415126816260465</id><published>2009-10-23T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T12:35:31.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri - 6 Months Old</title><content type='html'>Stats:&lt;br /&gt;Weight: 16 lbs, 9 oz. 70%; Height: 27 in 90%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I've said it before, but time goes by so much faster with the second child. Its not fair. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has started eating vegetables. She's had her first hair cut and she can sit up and play by herself. We still put pillows behind her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;in case&lt;/span&gt; she gets excited and falls backward. She likes to lay in bed with us while we read stories to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; before nap time. She likes to watch &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; sing songs like ABC's, I'm so Glad When Daddy Comes Home, and Happy Family. She will hold the bottle long enough to get it in her mouth and then she thinks someone else has to hold it for her. We're trying to teach her to hold it all by herself. She can scoot and roll anywhere. We have had to baby proof the house in the last couple of weeks. She is a busy body. Always has to be looking, moving, reaching and going for something. She does not like to be held.&lt;br /&gt;Update:  Aydri just had a tooth break through today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-9141415126816260465?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/9141415126816260465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=9141415126816260465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9141415126816260465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9141415126816260465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/10/aydri-6-months-old.html' title='Aydri - 6 Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1743110464066325841</id><published>2009-10-10T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T14:31:42.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Shopper</title><content type='html'>Last Monday we had a family night lesson on money.  We used play money to show how we earn money by working and that the money gets used on bills and things.  We showed how we only have a little left and talked about saving and spending.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; seemed quite interested.  We helped her count her money and talked to her about how 10% goes to tithing and some goes to savings and some goes to spending.  She had about $11 in her spending piggy bank when we were done.  She put some of it in her purse and wanted to go to the store.  We were planning on going anyway so we let her bring her money.  She started looking at everything in the store when we got there.  At first I thought we were teaching her completely wrong.  It felt awful to walk around the store just trying to find something to spend money on.  I explained to her how she could save her spending money until she had enough to buy something she would really like, but at first she just wanted to keep looking.  She was kind of funny about how she would pick something up, look it over, and then put it back on the shelf.  At one point she had settled on a doll.  I once again tried to explain to her that she has lots of dolls and didn't really need another one and that once her money was gone she couldn't buy anything else.  It didn't feel like she was listening, but I knew that I had to let her decide.  I thought that she would have to learn this lesson the hard way.  BUT THEN. . .She remembered that she really wanted to buy a scooter.  She has been talking about them for months.  We took her to look at the scooters and told her that she didn't have enough money for one, but she could save what she had and wait til she got more to pay for it.  She decided that that was what she wanted to do.  I was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; proud of her.  We walked straight out of the store after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went in to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Deseret&lt;/span&gt; Book today to get an idea of the current prices of artwork.  We've been a little out of the loop lately.  While we were there she kept seeing things that she wanted.  Remembering the lesson we had had she kept asking Jared if he a certain amount of money to pay for certain things.  People in the store would laugh and think she was being cute.  I finally reminded her how much money she had to spend if she really wanted something.  She found something that she really wanted.  I told her that if she bought it she wouldn't have any money left to put toward her scooter.  She immediately put it back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that a scooter is just another toy, but I'm glad that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; can understand that we can't have everything and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; okay.  I think she will really appreciate her scooter when she can finally buy one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1743110464066325841?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1743110464066325841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1743110464066325841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1743110464066325841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1743110464066325841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-shopper.html' title='Little Shopper'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2193098103919787849</id><published>2009-10-02T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T18:13:58.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Copy Cat</title><content type='html'>So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has been copying a few things for a while now like kissing noises and sticking her tongue out and blowing, but recently she been doing a few more.  I didn't realize that I nodded my head at her so much until she started nodding back.  She does it constantly.  She has also been saying, "mama, mama," when she cries.  I remember &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; doing this at 6 months.  At first we thought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was just making a new sound and that she didn't really know what she was saying, but we realized that she did it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;consistently&lt;/span&gt; when she was hungry and started saying other words too.  She was an early talker.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has started doing the same things.  Can babies really say their first words at 5 months?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2193098103919787849?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2193098103919787849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2193098103919787849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2193098103919787849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2193098103919787849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/10/copy-cat.html' title='Copy Cat'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5248563720472706820</id><published>2009-09-29T14:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T14:52:19.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri - Five Months Old</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I let this much time pass without writing about &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri's&lt;/span&gt; five month mark. I guess we're just having too much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are about 15 pounds. You've been &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;chunking&lt;/span&gt; up a little more. You've learned how to play with anything you get your hands on. We can keep you entertained with toys now.  You actually prefer to play rather than be held.  You could sit and watch &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; all day.  You get both legs swinging when you sit in the bouncer.  You get excited when you get it going really fast.  You will laugh very spontaneously.  Mostly at sudden new sounds.  It catches everyone off guard and then they try to repeat it over and over.  You get bored with it a lot faster than we do.  You rarely cry.  Even when you're hungry you just whine a little to let us know.  We took a trip recently and you've come to dislike the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;carseat&lt;/span&gt;, but if we play music and give you something to play with you're fine.  You're very quiet in your crib.  We never know if you're really asleep in there or not.  Even after you've been asleep and you've woken up you don't make much noise.  You just play.  You started cereal a couple of weeks ago.  You'll eat it, but you act like you don't care for it.  It takes a while to feed you because of how lackadaisical you are about it.  You can sit up by yourself, but sometimes you'd rather not.  We still have to be careful about sitting you up.  You like to go after things.  You can scoot, roll and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;maneuver&lt;/span&gt; your way anywhere.  You mostly go after the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;binkie&lt;/span&gt; and you've figured out how to put it in you mouth by yourself.  We love how happy and cheery you are.  You brighten &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;every ones&lt;/span&gt; day.  Your whole face lites up when you smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5248563720472706820?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5248563720472706820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5248563720472706820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5248563720472706820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5248563720472706820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/dear-aydri-five-months-old.html' title='Dear Aydri - Five Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8343466338015074822</id><published>2009-09-18T12:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T12:24:48.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Independent</title><content type='html'>Kendi has been dressing herself for a while now.  But now she wants to do her own hair as well.  I told her that she could get started and then I would help her finish.  As she was combing her hair she asked me, "Mommy, why didn't Jesus make us sparkly?"  And then in a very dreamy voice she said,  "I wish my hair had sparkles."  *Sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8343466338015074822?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8343466338015074822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8343466338015074822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8343466338015074822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8343466338015074822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/independent.html' title='Independent'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6302532694265710294</id><published>2009-09-17T14:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T12:29:24.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To The Dentist</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has been to the dentist before, but this was her first experience in the chair. Usually, I just take her along when I get my teeth cleaned and have the hygienist look in her mouth. This time I knew she cavities so we took her to the pediatric dentist. I thought it was going to be a nightmare. I remember the first time I went to the dentist and it scarred me for life. Jared was also very nervous for her. I even practiced playing dentist at home with her so she would be familiar with what was going on. When we got there I filled out paperwork while they took her back. When I finally got to go back with her I was shocked at what I saw. It was the neatest dentist's office I had ever seen. They had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; in the chair, eyes glued the TV screen on the ceiling, with headphones on. They could have done anything to her and she wouldn't have cared. She got a whole cleaning, x-rays and everything. I was surprised to see her permanent teeth right above her baby teeth. Didn't even know they would be there yet. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had so much fun. Her cavities are on the surface of her teeth instead of in between where most people get them so she's going to have her teeth sealed. They will do that at the same time she has the cavities filled. She will have it done at the surgical center so they can sedate her a little bit. I'm a little nervous about it, but the doctor says its fine and its the best thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was playing with her CD player and broke a little plastic piece off. I told her that I would have to put it up if she couldn't be careful with it. She responded, "But I'm just a little girl and I don't understand." Apparently, she understands enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6302532694265710294?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6302532694265710294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6302532694265710294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6302532694265710294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6302532694265710294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-dentist.html' title='To The Dentist'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2952774409616126880</id><published>2009-09-08T20:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T20:22:37.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Torticollis Update</title><content type='html'>We took &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; to the therapist again today.  We were told that she looks really great and that we don't have anything to worry about as of right now.  The only stretches we need to keep doing are the ones where she turns her head clear to the left.  She still favors the right side.  I knew this was what we would hear because I haven't done that stretch as much as the others.  I always wait to do it last because she fights it and cries, but now its the only stretch we have to do so that will be better.  As of right now we don't need to keep going to the therapist unless she gets bad again.  We were also told that if she has a growth spurt she might get the tight muscle again and we will need to do the stretches until it goes away.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri's&lt;/span&gt; flat spot looks great and her face isn't nearly as distorted.  She rolls over so much now and prefers to play on her tummy so that will continue to get better as well.  The therapist was really surprised at how strong she is and how much she's changed in the last month.  We are very excited that we were able to fix these problems in such a short amount of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2952774409616126880?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2952774409616126880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2952774409616126880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2952774409616126880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2952774409616126880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/torticollis-update.html' title='Torticollis Update'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2126835456740365783</id><published>2009-09-04T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T13:02:55.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kisses</title><content type='html'>For a while now, if you would stick your tongue out or blow bubbles, Aydri would copy you.  Today, I noticed that everytime I kiss her cheek she makes a kissing sound back.  I LOVE it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2126835456740365783?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2126835456740365783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2126835456740365783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2126835456740365783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2126835456740365783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/kisses.html' title='Kisses'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7237482837905335670</id><published>2009-09-02T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T14:01:33.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>Kendi and I were outside playing with the sidewalk chalk. She told me that she was drawing a "reenosaurus" (rhinoceros). I never realized that it sounds like a dinosaur name, but Kendi started talking about them too. I like to let her do most of the talking because it is more entertaining for me. Then she told me that I could go see a dinosaur when I disappear in bed. I had heard her say things like this before, but this is when I realized that she is talking about dreaming. I hope she doesn't think they're real because she has been having some pretty vivid dreams lately. Apparently I left her at nursery and she had to walk home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of about two weeks ago, Aydri started really sucking her thumb. She will even take out her binkie and her bottle just to suck her thumb. She has also started rolling onto her stomach from her back. She can roll all over the floor. I'm happy about that because she spends less time on her head. She acts like shes going to start crawling anytime. She goes after things that are out of reach. She's been laughing really hard. Mostly at Kendi.  Aydri actually plays with her feet.  This is fun because Kendi never did.  Kendi had a long body and was not very flexible.  I was expecting Aydri to be the same way, but she will actually slowly move her feet close enough to grab.  Sadly, she can't get them anywhere near her mouth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7237482837905335670?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7237482837905335670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7237482837905335670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7237482837905335670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7237482837905335670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/09/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1183208897892708054</id><published>2009-08-17T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T13:43:31.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri - Four Months Old</title><content type='html'>Stats - Weight:  13.07, 50%&lt;br /&gt;             Height:  25 1/2, 80%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You seem to be developing new skills at a faster pace everyday.  We love watching you grow and learn, but wish we could slow it down at the same time.  For the last few weeks you have been getting better at reaching and grabbing things.  As soon as something is within reach you've got it in your hands, including &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; hair.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; got some baby toys out and cleaned them up for you.  We were surprised at how well you played with them.  Should have got them out sooner.  You love to watch &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;.  You will even stop eating just to watch her.  You always give her smiles and laugh at her.  You make a lot of sounds as if your telling a story.  It makes everyone laugh.  You've learned what a bottle is.  You've started blowing bubbles just like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; did when she was a baby.  You are very ticklish.  You still sleep quite a bit.  You've been sitting up a little with support.  You smile at EVERYONE as soon as the make eye contact with you.  You stare at them until they do.  Your laugh is very inconsistent.  Some people don't even realize that you are laughing.  You're constantly kicking your left leg.  We've started calling you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;.  We have to give you a lot of tummy time.  You can get your knees underneath you and your hands under you, but never at the same time.  You keep rolling over during tummy time.  We are still doing the same stretches for your torticollis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1183208897892708054?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1183208897892708054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1183208897892708054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1183208897892708054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1183208897892708054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/08/dear-aydri-four-months-old.html' title='Dear Aydri - Four Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5916567537840903903</id><published>2009-07-22T22:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T22:27:26.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Answer</title><content type='html'>When Aunt Jaelyn asked Kendi not to pick her nose, Kendi replied, "I won't do it when I'm older."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5916567537840903903?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5916567537840903903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5916567537840903903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5916567537840903903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5916567537840903903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/07/good-answer.html' title='Good Answer'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8232203517818262882</id><published>2009-07-22T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T07:13:13.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri - Three Months Old</title><content type='html'>You are somewhere between 10 1/2 and 11 pounds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You rolled over for the first time on July 11&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.  Aunt Cari was playing with you and when she sat you down on your tummy she was afraid you weren't liking it.  Before she could pick you back up you rolled right over.  The second time (a few days later) you rolled over for Cari again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You smile so easily at absolutely anyone all the time.  Even when your crying or eating we can talk to you and you will stop to smile at us.  We've been trying to get you to laugh.  You get so excited that you make the cutest noises.  Its like you start to giggle, but only half of one comes out and then you say a big &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;haaaaaa&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You make the sweetest little humming sounds.  You do it when your falling asleep.  You have since you were born, but lately you do it more often and there a little louder.  You have a sweet little sigh that you make when you're awake and in a good mood.  You talk to us a little bit.  I swear you try to copy the baby sounds we make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are learning how you like things and you seem to know whats going on now.  You respond to things we do in our routine.  You are starting to resist naps.  You fall asleep easier if we put you down before we suspect your tired.  You've also been funny about nursing lately.  If I don't feed you before you act hungry, you get so ferocious mad that you won't even eat.  It's perplexing to everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8232203517818262882?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8232203517818262882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8232203517818262882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8232203517818262882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8232203517818262882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/07/dear-aydri-three-months-old.html' title='Dear Aydri - Three Months Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6894909801377348804</id><published>2009-06-29T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T17:05:37.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Teach You</title><content type='html'>My sister, Cari, had a package of Gushers.  She told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; that she could have them as long as she didn't slobber.  As &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was eating them, Cari showed her how to chew with her mouth closed.  When Jared came in, I told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; to show him what she'd learned.  She did and then she said,  "Now I can teach you how to eat with your mouth shut."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6894909801377348804?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6894909801377348804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6894909801377348804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6894909801377348804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6894909801377348804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/ill-teach-you.html' title='I&apos;ll Teach You'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5315481255299606092</id><published>2009-06-25T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T17:25:24.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri,</title><content type='html'>You have always been a great sleeper.  From the day you were born.  You have only ever cried once in the night and only for a few minutes.  When you were a few days old, I looked at you in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bassinet&lt;/span&gt; one night and realized that you were wide awake.  You didn't spend a whole lot of time awake, at the time, so I picked you up and played with you for  a while.  Now that you're two months old you sleep for longer periods of time at night.  Usually about six hours.  Recently, you went nine hours one night and ten the next.  I woke you up to feed you because I got a little worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     During the day, you eat about every two hours except for during your big three hour nap in the middle of the day.  You are on a pretty predictable routine.  You only eat for about ten minutes at a time though.  You burp pretty easy as well.  And spit up occationally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     You are getting to where you resist falling asleep during the day.  You get a bit fussy before I have to put you to sleep.  You are usually only awake for an hour at a time.  Sometimes you still fall asleep on your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     You are familiar enough with the b&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;inky&lt;/span&gt; that you'll search for when you want it, but you don't want it all the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5315481255299606092?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5315481255299606092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5315481255299606092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5315481255299606092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5315481255299606092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-aydri.html' title='Dear Aydri,'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7012115295085869271</id><published>2009-06-17T21:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T21:43:08.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri Update</title><content type='html'>At &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri's&lt;/span&gt; 8 week appointment she weighed 10 pounds.  That puts her in the 35&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; percentile.  She is 22 1/2 inches long in the 50&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; percentile.  As we were leaving the doctors office, Jared was holding &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; and the doctor looked at her and then asked me if she turns her head.  I said, "Yes, but only one way."  I knew what he was going to say next and I feel bad that I didn't think to bring this up with the doctor sooner.  The doctor said that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; has a flat spot on one side and a tight muscle in her neck.  He told me to give her more "tummy time" for her head and told us we had to take her to physical therapy for her neck.  We will meet with a pediatric physical therapist in St. George on the 29&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; to be evaluated and to learn how to take care of this problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7012115295085869271?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7012115295085869271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7012115295085869271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7012115295085869271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7012115295085869271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/aydri-update.html' title='Aydri Update'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6408820513104663237</id><published>2009-06-11T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T14:06:57.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's Stats - 7 Weeks Old</title><content type='html'>9 lbs, 13 oz.  3 lbs gained since birth - 50%&lt;br /&gt;21 1/2 inches long - 25%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6408820513104663237?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6408820513104663237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6408820513104663237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6408820513104663237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6408820513104663237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/aydris-stats-7-weeks-old.html' title='Aydri&apos;s Stats - 7 Weeks Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3162668998090561866</id><published>2009-06-08T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T21:49:54.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendi's Bedtime Story</title><content type='html'>This post is probably going to sound quite different from the rest of the posts, because LeAnn is the stalwart recorder for our family, but I just had an experience with Kendi that I couldn't not write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi has a routine for bedtime, she changes into her pajamas, brushes her teeth, says her prayers, has two books read to her, and last we talk about what she has done that day. She didn't have much to say about her day, but she looked at me and said dad I'm goin to tell you a story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Once upon a time there was a princess and she was naughty and she ran away from home, and.... she ran into a monster and the monster said RAR I'm goin to eat you, please. The princess ran away, and was swallowed by a whale and then she got spit out and went back home, and her mom put her into the bathroom and into the garbage and then threw her into the garbage can (I think that she meant the big black garbage can) and said you have been naughty and the princess stinked pee-ew, THEE END."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can promise you that we have never used garbage cans as discipline, or bathrooms for that matter, but you can tell through out the story its a hybrid of cinderella and pinnochio with garbage cans. I couldn't help but laugh at how well formed her story was. She surprises me every day. She really is a joy to have around, I love her to pieces. She is our little angel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3162668998090561866?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3162668998090561866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3162668998090561866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3162668998090561866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3162668998090561866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/kendis-bedtime-story.html' title='Kendi&apos;s Bedtime Story'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-481203140410097805</id><published>2009-06-05T20:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T20:46:30.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's That Easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was telling Jared that he should go fishing and Jared said, "I'd like to, but I just can't get there."  Her response was, "You just go up the mountain like this," gesturing with her hand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-481203140410097805?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/481203140410097805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=481203140410097805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/481203140410097805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/481203140410097805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-that-easy.html' title='It&apos;s That Easy'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2711387840944667962</id><published>2009-06-03T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T08:51:28.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dresses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;affinity&lt;/span&gt; for dresses.  She associates them with princesses.  Her aunt &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jerika&lt;/span&gt; had brought her some stickers from Disneyland and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; played with them until all the stickers with dresses were gone.  When she colors in her coloring books, it has to be pictures with dresses.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; pretends like she is a princess quite often.  When she is a princess her name is "Shula."  Every mourning she tries to find a dress to wear so she can be a princess.  One night I was putting her to bed.  She prefers to wear night gowns to bed, but they were all in the laundry so she had to wear a different set of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pjs&lt;/span&gt;.  I told her that she was being a good princess and she said in a really sad voice, "No mom, I'm not a princess.  I don't have a dress."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was asked to say the dinner prayer at my parents house.  After she was done my dad told her that we're supposed to close our eyes during the prayer.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; response was, "I did grandpa. . . but Cari didn't"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2711387840944667962?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2711387840944667962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2711387840944667962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2711387840944667962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2711387840944667962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/06/dresses.html' title='Dresses'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7542522643598024087</id><published>2009-05-24T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T10:48:55.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aydri,</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;One Month Old&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     When you took your first bath your sister was so excited to help.  You didn't like being wet, but you didn't fuss much.  You have so much hair that we had to scrub your head and rinse it really well.  Your hair is really curly when it is wet and then dries completely straight.  It gets very poofy after its been washed.  We wrapped you up in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;towel&lt;/span&gt; and you snuggled up to mom to get warm.&lt;br /&gt;     At your first doctors appointment you weighed five more ounces than you did at birth.   &lt;br /&gt;     You have been a really good baby.  When you are in a smiling mood you smile over and over again.  Your eyes light up and you show off your dimples.  You are begininng to make lots of expressive sounds.  We love you so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7542522643598024087?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7542522643598024087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7542522643598024087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7542522643598024087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7542522643598024087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/05/dear-aydri.html' title='Dear Aydri,'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7837337721692764966</id><published>2009-05-11T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T18:10:01.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today, in the car, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; said, "Mama, don't fall out, Daddy's driving fast."  "Daddy, if you fall out the window I will drive the car for us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; watched American Idol with the Barnes'.  When she got home she said this to me:  "There was a mean guy.  He was scary and black.  He was like Sleeping Beauty's witch."  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;referring&lt;/span&gt; to Adam Lambert.  I'm glad she can discern for herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7837337721692764966?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7837337721692764966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7837337721692764966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7837337721692764966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7837337721692764966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/05/today-in-car-kendi-said-mama-dont-fall.html' title=''/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6783331847240504491</id><published>2009-05-04T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T18:12:45.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendi on Aydri</title><content type='html'>As we got in the car this mourning &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; looked at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt; and said, "When she gets bigger, we are going to be best friends forever."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something Kendi says all the time is, "Be very careful with her, she's very special."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; said, "Grandma, come pet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt;." Grandma said, "What?" Then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; said, "Come pet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aydri&lt;/span&gt;, like a dog, Grandma."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6783331847240504491?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6783331847240504491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6783331847240504491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6783331847240504491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6783331847240504491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/05/kendis-on-aydri.html' title='Kendi on Aydri'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4254270212337976377</id><published>2009-05-04T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T11:42:19.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's Stats - 2 weeks old</title><content type='html'>Weight:  8 pounds, 3 ounces, 50%, 1 pound 6 ounces gained since birth.&lt;br /&gt;Height:  20 1/4 inches, 45%&lt;br /&gt;Head Circumference:  35, 40%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4254270212337976377?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4254270212337976377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4254270212337976377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4254270212337976377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4254270212337976377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/05/aydris-stats-2-weeks-old.html' title='Aydri&apos;s Stats - 2 weeks old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4567415133821792683</id><published>2009-04-26T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T18:14:11.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aydri's Stats - Four Days Old</title><content type='html'>Date: 4/22/09&lt;br /&gt;Weight: 7 pounds, 1 ounce - 45% - Gained 4 ounces since birth.&lt;br /&gt;Height: 20 inches - 75%&lt;br /&gt;Head &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Circumference&lt;/span&gt;: 32 1/2 - 5%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4567415133821792683?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4567415133821792683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4567415133821792683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4567415133821792683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4567415133821792683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/04/aydris-stats-four-days-old.html' title='Aydri&apos;s Stats - Four Days Old'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7079443861368273094</id><published>2009-04-03T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T13:44:27.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughtful Kendi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has a few phrases that she will randomly say to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mom, its okay, you'll be fine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you need anything, let me know.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be careful, don't spill your food, mom.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Here, just hold my hand.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mama, mama, mama! . . . I love you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7079443861368273094?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7079443861368273094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7079443861368273094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7079443861368273094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7079443861368273094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/04/thoughtful-kendi.html' title='Thoughtful Kendi'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-9171798671132060623</id><published>2009-04-01T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T14:12:04.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bottle Fairy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has given up the bottle.  She's done really well without it so far.  The night that we told her about the bottle fairy coming to get it, she got really excited.  She asked all kinds of questions like, "Is she pretty?"  "Does she have a big dress or a little dress?"  "Are there sparkles on her dress?"  The bottle fairy brought her a new summer dress and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; hasn't asked for a bottle since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bulloch&lt;/span&gt; has a little kid sized bench on her front porch.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; loves seeing it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; we go.  Last time she was there, she sat on it, sat up straight, put her hands on her lap, sighed and said in a dreamy voice, "It's been a lovely day."  She didn't understand why everyone started laughing so hard and it made her a little sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-9171798671132060623?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/9171798671132060623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=9171798671132060623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9171798671132060623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9171798671132060623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/04/bottle-fairy.html' title='Bottle Fairy'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6598597041072850682</id><published>2009-03-27T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T14:28:47.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Now</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting at my parents computer looking for coupon deals. Just a second ago, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; came in and handed me a tums and said, "Here's your medicine, mom." I asked her where she got it and all she would say was that she was looking for something in the bag. I couldn't understand what it was that she was looking for. I'm assuming that she's talking about the diaper bag. Then she says, "Now mom, you stay there. Don't get out of your seat and tell me that it's naughty." I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; asked her what was naughty and all she did was smile and close the door as she left. Right now I can hear my dad saying something about something all over the floor and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; trying to explain what she was looking for. I'm going to go investigate now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6598597041072850682?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6598597041072850682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6598597041072850682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6598597041072850682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6598597041072850682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-now.html' title='Just Now'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3438076064918303421</id><published>2009-03-02T14:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T14:22:41.967-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sassy</title><content type='html'>I can't remember what the conversation was about, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wanted something.  I asked her to pick up her toys before she could have it.  She complained and then walked off shaking her bum at me.  Where does she learn this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has had the croup again this season.  Sometimes she coughs so hard in her sleep she throws up so we keep her in our room while she's sick.  She sleeps on the crib mattress on the floor.  One morning I had woken up at 5 a.m. and couldn't back to sleep.  Jared and I were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt; so we wouldn't wake up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;.  Out of no where we heard her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt;, "Daddy....Daddy?...Daddy, I love you,"  so quietly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi loves to come running into our room in the morning.  One day we were still in bed and Kendi came in and jumped on Jared and said, "I love you, Bucko."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3438076064918303421?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3438076064918303421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3438076064918303421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3438076064918303421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3438076064918303421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/03/sassy.html' title='Sassy'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4315161763412728374</id><published>2009-01-28T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T11:25:03.158-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation I Want to Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  I want to listen to my Christmas music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  You know how to put it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  I want to listen to it in here.  (the kitchen)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  I want it to be quiet in here.  You can go in your room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't want to go in my room.  I'll bring my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;cd&lt;/span&gt; player in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  No, mommy doesn't want it in here.  You can listen in your room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  I'll just bring it in here.  I'll put it in the corner.  I'll show you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;, mommy said no, you can listen in your room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't want to listen in my room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;, you're not the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  Heavenly Father is the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  You're right.  Heavenly Father says listen to your mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  No, Heavenly Father says listen to the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  Heavenly Father says listen to your parents.  Go ask Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;:  Dad, is Heavenly Father the boss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jared:  Yes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;.  Heavenly Father says  listen to mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; came up to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt; and said:  The music is in my room and it isn't loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;LeAnn&lt;/span&gt;:  Thank you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;, you are such a good girl.  Good job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4315161763412728374?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4315161763412728374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4315161763412728374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4315161763412728374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4315161763412728374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/01/conversation-i-want-to-remember.html' title='Conversation I Want to Remember'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5841461439045668407</id><published>2009-01-08T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T08:46:02.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lately we've been getting some snow storms like the ones I remember as a kid.  There has been a lot of icicles hanging from houses and buildings.  At first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; called them "tricycles."  After trying to correct her she now calls them "Ice Tricycles."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could remember all the little phrases &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; uses all the time, but I would have to frequently stop and write them down.  One of my favorites is when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has been playing by herself and decides to come find Jared and I, she goes through the house yelling, "Hey guys?"  It makes me feel like we're all just friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to just sit and watch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; because you can almost see the wheels turning in her head.  There are time that she amazes me with how well planned out she is.  When I was too sick to do grocery shopping Jared and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; would take some daddy-daughter time to go to the store.  It has become a fun tradition for them.  Lately, I've been going with them.  Jared usually pushes the cart, I grab all the stuff we need and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; either rides in the basket or walks along.  It was later than usual the other night and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had walked with us all through the store.  All of a sudden she told me that I should push the cart.  I asked her why and she just said that it was my turn.  I could tell she was up to something so I said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; and winked at Jared.  Sure enough, as soon as Jared let go of the cart she went up to him and said, "Hold me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5841461439045668407?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5841461439045668407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5841461439045668407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5841461439045668407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5841461439045668407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2009/01/lately-weve-been-getting-some-snow.html' title=''/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3403884972876136036</id><published>2008-12-27T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T21:23:47.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen Up</title><content type='html'>Today, we were watching a movie on the couch.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wasn't very interested, but she was doing a good job at entertaining herself.  At one point she decided to play on Jared who was laying down. She was telling him to move his legs and to sit up.  He was so focused on the movie that he didn't hear her.  After several times of asking politely she finally screamed, "Move your legs and TIP OVER!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Christmas Eve night we woke up to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wandering around at 3 am.  We didn't want her to see the presents yet so we put her in bed with us.  The next night she decided to join us in bed again.  In the morning we woke up and thought that she was still sleeping.  We started talking about how to make this so it doesn't become a habit.  Then all of a sudden &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; yelled, "BE REVERENT!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-3403884972876136036?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3403884972876136036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3403884972876136036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3403884972876136036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3403884972876136036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/12/listen-up.html' title='Listen Up'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-620624840159139611</id><published>2008-12-10T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:51:12.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Naughty Words</title><content type='html'>For some reason, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; started to say "Oh my gosh" so much that it was driving us crazy.  It just sounds so much worse coming from a two year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;old's&lt;/span&gt; mouth.  So we started asking her not to say it.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; doesn't just do anything for no reason so when she asked us why we told her it was a naughty thing to say.  Well, whenever someone else says oh my gosh, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; says, "HEY, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; a naughty word!"  Somehow she has caught on to the tone of when we people use the phrase and so whenever someone says something with the same tone she tells them its a naughty word.  Most of the time she's right, but it surprises people to be reprimanded by a two year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while ago, my mom wanted to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; a happy meal at McDonald's  so she told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; she was going to run some errands and then go to McDonald's.  The whole time we were in the car &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; couldn't stop talking about it.  She would ask, "Where is Old McDonald?"  After a while, that turned into, "Oh my Donald."  Then after thinking about she asked, "Is that a naughty word?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-620624840159139611?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/620624840159139611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=620624840159139611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/620624840159139611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/620624840159139611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/12/naughty-words.html' title='Naughty Words'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5993662784492039905</id><published>2008-11-29T08:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T08:51:22.302-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Names</title><content type='html'>When we found out that our baby was going to be a girl we asked Kendi what we should name her.  Kendi's suggestions were Tarzan and Monkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also asked Kendi if her baby sister was going to look like her and she said no.  So I asked her what the baby was going to look like and she said, "A pumkin!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5993662784492039905?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5993662784492039905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5993662784492039905' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5993662784492039905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5993662784492039905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/11/baby-names.html' title='Baby Names'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6303758671267087589</id><published>2008-11-19T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T10:38:40.974-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prince Charming</title><content type='html'>Kendi really loves to watch Sleeping Beauty.  She thinks that it is so fun to hide from the witch.  Her favorite part is when Rose is singing in the woods.  Kendi will wander around the house dancing and singing just like Rose.  She will go up to Jared and ask, "Want to do a Dream Daddy?"  Jared can never resist.  So they dance around the house singing Once Upon a Dream.  It's very precious.  While they were doing this one day Kendi spotted our wedding picture in the bedroom.  She always gets very excited about temples.  Jared asked her if she would get married in the temple and she said, "Yes Daddy, I'm going to marry you."  Jared tried to explain that he was already married to Mommy, but she just said, "Nope, I'm going to marry you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a board that I've been meaning to repaint with a saying for Kendi's room, but I haven't decided what saying to use.  Then I saw one that said:  My prince did come.  His name is Daddy.  What do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6303758671267087589?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6303758671267087589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6303758671267087589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6303758671267087589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6303758671267087589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/11/prince-charming.html' title='Prince Charming'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-324066853895029961</id><published>2008-11-17T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T16:18:17.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Talk</title><content type='html'>I keep noticing how much Kendi is growing and I said to her the other day,  "Will  you always be my baby?"  She just looked at me funny because she knows that she is a big girl.  I love to ask her random questions just to see what she will say so asked her what do babys do.  She told me that they cry.  I asked her what do we do when babys cry?  She suggested that we put them in time out.  I told her that baby's are too little to put in time out and that we need to give them lots of loves.  Then she told me, "I'm going to grow up a baby in my tummy."  I tried to tell her that she would have to wait till she was older.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-324066853895029961?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/324066853895029961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=324066853895029961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/324066853895029961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/324066853895029961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/11/baby-talk.html' title='Baby Talk'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1136154685748022579</id><published>2008-11-01T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T15:00:42.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's the Boss?</title><content type='html'>A few days ago, I wanted to sit on the couch.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wouldn't let me.  She has a lot of imaginary pets and I never know where there sitting until I try to sit on one.  After &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; showed me that I could have a seat on the floor I told her she was being bossy.  She said, "I'm not bossy, I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;."  I told her that she was a bossy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;.  Well, I few days later &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was grocery shopping with my mom.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; kept wanting to go from the seat to inside the cart and back and forth.  Finally my mom told her that she couldn't keep going back and forth.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; told her that she could if she wanted to so my mom told her that she wasn't the boss.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; paused for a second and then said, "Someone told me that I am the boss."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, a few days ago, I was talking to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; about trick or treating and how she should only take one piece of candy and say thank you.  She got a mad look on her face and I realized what she was thinking.  I tried to tell her that after she says thank you then she can go to another person and get another piece of candy.  Later, my dad asked her if she was going to get a bunch of candy on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Halloween&lt;/span&gt; and she said with a really sad face, "Mama said I can only have one."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1136154685748022579?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1136154685748022579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1136154685748022579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1136154685748022579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1136154685748022579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/11/whos-boss.html' title='Who&apos;s the Boss?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6349987022230421850</id><published>2008-10-24T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T08:15:12.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy's Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; was out playing in the sandbox at my parents house when Jared stopped by for lunch. He's been working on a crazy deadline that happens to be today so we have been trying not to bother him. We practically don't even talk to him. I asked him to check on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; before he left to go back to work. He was afraid &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; would want him to stay and play, but he wanted to talk to her before he left anyway. Sure enough, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; made him come out to the sandbox and asked him to help her build a castle. He told her that he needed to go to work. She asked if he "had" to go back to work and he said yes. Then she said, "If you 'have' to stay here, then you won't 'have' to go back to work."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6349987022230421850?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6349987022230421850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6349987022230421850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6349987022230421850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6349987022230421850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/10/daddys-girl.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Girl'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-329503741109992718</id><published>2008-10-20T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T10:53:38.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Pains</title><content type='html'>Quite often Kendi will tell me that her legs hurt.  She will even cry in her sleep about it.  One day she was showing me where they hurt and I said, "Are your legs growing too fast?"  Kendi responded, "NO!  They're growing too slow."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-329503741109992718?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/329503741109992718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=329503741109992718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/329503741109992718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/329503741109992718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/10/growing-pains.html' title='Growing Pains'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7353530931360404804</id><published>2008-10-04T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T12:37:25.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>I can't seem to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; excited about Halloween this year.  When I ask her what she wants to be all she says is, "I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and a girl."  You can't even tell her that she is cute because she will correct you by telling you that she is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and a girl again.  So I tried to explain to her Trick or Treating and all she would say about it was, "You can do it, mama."  I've showed her pictures and costumes and she just doesn't even care.  The only thing she has agreed to is painting my face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7353530931360404804?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7353530931360404804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7353530931360404804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7353530931360404804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7353530931360404804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4101356882597525507</id><published>2008-09-28T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T12:29:18.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excitement</title><content type='html'>Sometimes Kendi doesn't want to stop playing to use the bathroom. One day, after Jared had coaxed her into the bathroom and got her to go, he clapped his hands and told her how proud he was of her. She started clapping, got all excited and said, "It's a miracle!" Jared laughed so hard that Kendi thought he was laughing at her and she said, "Don't laugh at me." For some reason she's a little sensitive to laughing. But, she must have heard someone say, "Its a miracle," before and now she associates it with excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was sucking on some candy and Kendi asked me if she could have some. She had just finished cleaning up a mess she had made all by herself so I told her she could "one." After she finished it she asked for another. I told her that I already gave her one and that they were all gone. So she went over to Jared who had been reading a book and she told him to lean over to her.  Then she whispered very quietly, "I want a treat, daddy."  He said, "What?"  She whispered it again even quieter.  I laughed because I knew exactly what she was doing.  Jared turned to me asked why she was acting so funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4101356882597525507?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4101356882597525507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4101356882597525507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4101356882597525507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4101356882597525507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/09/excitement.html' title='Excitement'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5793056609412008686</id><published>2008-09-13T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T10:11:39.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Mermaid?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had been trying to get Jared to play with her while he was working.  She's pretty used to being told that daddy is working and can't play right now so she gave up pretty easily.  But not before she told him, "Daddy, I just don't know what I'm going to do with you."  We laughed, but I couldn't figure out why she would say that.  After about a week of thinking about it I realized that it was a line from The Little Mermaid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, Jared had given &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; a piece of his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;poptart&lt;/span&gt;.  She was walking around the living room with it so I asked her to come sit by me.  She said to me, "No, I'm eating my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;guitart&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5793056609412008686?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5793056609412008686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5793056609412008686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5793056609412008686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5793056609412008686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/09/little-mermaid.html' title='The Little Mermaid?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7959627917334288963</id><published>2008-08-09T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:12:30.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alcohol</title><content type='html'>While Jared and I were gone up north &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; stayed with my parents. After a trip to the DI, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; came home with a new toy. My parents realized that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; wanted to put it in her mouth so they got out some alcohol to clean it with. After the strong smell hit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; nostrils she said, "That smells like the doctor when I get an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;owie&lt;/span&gt;." I think she's referring to her immunizations which I can't even remember the last time she had some.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7959627917334288963?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7959627917334288963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7959627917334288963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7959627917334288963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7959627917334288963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/08/alcohol.html' title='Alcohol'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8414681606516047959</id><published>2008-08-09T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:06:13.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Apologies</title><content type='html'>Kendi has been telling a lot of people that they have a big bum.  She gets the strangest looks and I'm afraid that some people actually feel really bad because they say "kids never lie."  Let me explain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi is only making an observation.  Her eye level only gives her one point of view.  She must think an awful lot about bums.  What she means when she tells you that you have a big bum is that you are a grown up and she is a small child.  She gets exited because she has recently realized that she is growing and will someday be as big as you.  She doesn't realize that it's rude, but I will try to help her understand.  So for now...Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8414681606516047959?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8414681606516047959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8414681606516047959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8414681606516047959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8414681606516047959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/08/our-apologies.html' title='Our Apologies'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6036522597035081059</id><published>2008-07-25T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T14:23:23.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendi's Opinion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has realized that she is a small person and will grow up to be a big person like everyone else. She came to me a few days ago and said, "Mom, you. . . have a big bum." I laughed and said, "What?" She repeated herself and added, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has a small one." "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; will get bigger, huh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jared spends most of his days sitting on the couch working on his laptop. Sometimes this is hard for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; because he can't get up and play with her. She came up to him this morning and said, "Daddy, hold me...mom can work the computer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, this morning she came into the living room and said, "This is a mess again." I asked her who made the mess and she said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; did. So then I asked her who was going to clean it up and she thought for a second and said, "Mama."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6036522597035081059?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6036522597035081059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6036522597035081059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6036522597035081059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6036522597035081059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/kendis-opinion.html' title='Kendi&apos;s Opinion'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4427432637092768520</id><published>2008-07-21T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T14:57:14.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Happy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Some days&lt;/span&gt; it is hard to keep up with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and all the things she wants me to do. This morning I had to keep telling her, in words she understood, that I wasn't feeling well and couldn't do everything she wanted me to. So, then the rest of the morning she kept asking me, "You happy now?" I tried to explain that I was happy, but I just didn't feel well. She kept interpreting it as just not being happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, she came to me and said, "I want some cheese. Do you want some cheese? Cheese will make you happy! Let's go get some cheese."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me laugh out loud. I have to admit, she was right. It worked. So, if you're ever sad or not feeling well, just remember "Cheese will make you happy!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4427432637092768520?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4427432637092768520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4427432637092768520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4427432637092768520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4427432637092768520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/be-happy.html' title='Be Happy'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6348020411723000150</id><published>2008-07-21T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T11:26:03.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lightning Storms</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, we had some crazy lightning storms. They were even scary at times. The lightning struck so close that we heard the weird cracking and then the rattling BOOM as the thunder broke out. After several people screamed, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; said, "I don't like it, I don't like it, mama," in a panicky little voice. And then within minutes all the lightning and thunder was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; decided to be brave and look out the window. She kept telling me to watch for the lightning. After nothing happened for several minutes I told her that the lightning must be gone now. She asked where it went and I tried to explain that it was "all done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she just looked up at me, put her finger to her mouth, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;whispered&lt;/span&gt;, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Shhhh&lt;/span&gt;, its hiding. . . You have to be very quiet. It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;commin&lt;/span&gt;'."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love her big imagination. I just have to join right in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6348020411723000150?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6348020411723000150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6348020411723000150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6348020411723000150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6348020411723000150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/lightning-storms.html' title='Lightning Storms'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2145761592878897928</id><published>2008-07-20T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T16:04:31.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Answers</title><content type='html'>Jared and Kendi were sitting in the car waiting for me when Jared picked up some sunglasses that my sister had left.  Kendi said, "I need those sunglasses."  Jared told her, "You don't need them, it's not sunny."  Kendi said, "Where did the sun go?"  Jared said, "Behind the clouds."  Then she said, "We better go find it, huh."  Then Jared said it would be a little hard to find and Kendi told him, "Its just behind the clouds."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2145761592878897928?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2145761592878897928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2145761592878897928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2145761592878897928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2145761592878897928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/simple-answers.html' title='Simple Answers'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8332650019724989766</id><published>2008-07-12T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T09:07:07.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It doesn't matter how many times I correct Kendi.  Scissors will always be called, "Cuzzors."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the grocery store the other day, Kendi and I were waiting in the checkout line.  As always Kendi was looking around at everything and naming off all the things she knew.  There was an elderly lady in the line next to us.  Kendi pointed at her and yelled,  "There's a grandma!"  Meaning, "That lady looks really old!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8332650019724989766?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8332650019724989766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8332650019724989766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8332650019724989766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8332650019724989766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/it-doesnt-matter-how-many-times-i.html' title=''/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1743375175274526920</id><published>2008-07-09T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T08:32:54.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures for Daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHUejmCWGFI/AAAAAAAAAag/KCg2YtpWfzE/s1600-h/july1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221112939860596818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHUejmCWGFI/AAAAAAAAAag/KCg2YtpWfzE/s400/july1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yup, thats a tape measure. She found the headphones and the tape measure by herself. The music was so great that she sang along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHUej7EMHaI/AAAAAAAAAao/RNhIM7aVNyU/s1600-h/july2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221112945505476002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHUej7EMHaI/AAAAAAAAAao/RNhIM7aVNyU/s400/july2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Midsummer...Watermelon...Front Porch&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1743375175274526920?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1743375175274526920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1743375175274526920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1743375175274526920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1743375175274526920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/pictures-for-daddy.html' title='Pictures for Daddy'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHUejmCWGFI/AAAAAAAAAag/KCg2YtpWfzE/s72-c/july1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-3942349507554146487</id><published>2008-07-05T17:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T17:33:31.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Kendi has been up to</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASZFi4j2I/AAAAAAAAAaY/haishwOTxUk/s1600-h/kendi1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219692190316924770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASZFi4j2I/AAAAAAAAAaY/haishwOTxUk/s400/kendi1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; playing house with the couch cushions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASN-MV4_I/AAAAAAAAAaI/E3llBLa7G2w/s1600-h/kendi2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219691999364768754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASN-MV4_I/AAAAAAAAAaI/E3llBLa7G2w/s400/kendi2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Our neighborhood playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASN_sFx4I/AAAAAAAAAaQ/a4Y3AVDNwVU/s1600-h/kendi3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219691999766366082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASN_sFx4I/AAAAAAAAAaQ/a4Y3AVDNwVU/s400/kendi3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHAR3wAnCWI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Sor3iU_Kr9w/s1600-h/kendi4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219691617600342370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHAR3wAnCWI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Sor3iU_Kr9w/s400/kendi4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; new "big girl" bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/1235139575261099979-3942349507554146487?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/3942349507554146487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=3942349507554146487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3942349507554146487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/3942349507554146487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-kendi-has-been-up-to.html' title='What Kendi has been up to'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SHASZFi4j2I/AAAAAAAAAaY/haishwOTxUk/s72-c/kendi1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5861203194728014231</id><published>2008-06-28T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T15:01:49.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toilet Talk</title><content type='html'>While visiting Jaelyn, Greg and Kirra, Kendi said that she needed to go potty. So Jared took her into the bathroom. When she looked into the toilet she said, "Who pee's blue?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5861203194728014231?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5861203194728014231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5861203194728014231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5861203194728014231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5861203194728014231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/06/potty-mouth.html' title='Toilet Talk'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-730400795737458269</id><published>2008-06-21T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T13:11:08.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summertime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SF1gTzabXCI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/HpprMcRA2uE/s1600-h/123.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214429836899736610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SF1gTzabXCI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/HpprMcRA2uE/s400/123.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/1235139575261099979-730400795737458269?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/730400795737458269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=730400795737458269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/730400795737458269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/730400795737458269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/06/summertime.html' title='Summertime'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SF1gTzabXCI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/HpprMcRA2uE/s72-c/123.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-9138251021915752750</id><published>2008-06-21T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T13:12:11.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Race!!</title><content type='html'>Whenever Kendi says, "I need to go potty," I say, "want to race?" She always responds by saying, "Ready, set, GO!" Of course I always let her win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today while we were racing to the bathroom I kept telling her, "you're so fast." When we got to the toilet, instead of her telling me that she won like she usually does, all she said was, "you're slow."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-9138251021915752750?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/9138251021915752750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=9138251021915752750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9138251021915752750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/9138251021915752750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/06/lets-race.html' title='Let&apos;s Race!!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1526161615715289256</id><published>2008-06-07T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T12:52:14.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mumbo Jumbo</title><content type='html'>Kendi went outside to see our little container garden and she said, "Look mom, the plants are 'glowing!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi says that Grandpa Bulloch has a "back toe." Sometimes she calls it a tractor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi likes to have "sprinklers" on her ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She likes to swing on the "tater totter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy likes to go play basketball with the "hooper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that there is more. I'll add them when I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1526161615715289256?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1526161615715289256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1526161615715289256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1526161615715289256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1526161615715289256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/06/mumbo-jumbo.html' title='Mumbo Jumbo'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4848871265489489631</id><published>2008-06-03T21:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T21:43:53.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cousins</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SEYdSifZcMI/AAAAAAAAAUU/OzkNg7hJeoI/s1600-h/GirlsFrameMemorialDay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207882223433904322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SEYdSifZcMI/AAAAAAAAAUU/OzkNg7hJeoI/s400/GirlsFrameMemorialDay.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Another great picture from Jaelyn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4848871265489489631?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4848871265489489631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4848871265489489631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4848871265489489631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4848871265489489631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/06/cousins.html' title='Cousins'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SEYdSifZcMI/AAAAAAAAAUU/OzkNg7hJeoI/s72-c/GirlsFrameMemorialDay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6518133270039324793</id><published>2008-05-23T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T08:18:11.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evening Walks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SDbfVOETxVI/AAAAAAAAAR8/uzDKlaMtiqc/s1600-h/DSC04561.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203591975119603026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SDbfVOETxVI/AAAAAAAAAR8/uzDKlaMtiqc/s400/DSC04561.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; One of Kendi's favorite things to do is go with my mom and my aunt Mary on their evening walks. They take the dogs with them and Kendi sits in her stroller. When its really cold we dress Kendi up in Grandpa's flannel shirts.   Kendi looks cute in ANYTHING.&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/1235139575261099979-6518133270039324793?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6518133270039324793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6518133270039324793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6518133270039324793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6518133270039324793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/evening-walks.html' title='Evening Walks'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SDbfVOETxVI/AAAAAAAAAR8/uzDKlaMtiqc/s72-c/DSC04561.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2554993718657748697</id><published>2008-05-17T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T12:35:41.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendi and Abby</title><content type='html'>I found this picture on my parents computer.  I'm not sure what they are doing, but it was cute.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SC8zRmXDhAI/AAAAAAAAAQo/I5xdfX-J6ck/s1600-h/DSCN0078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201432472084251650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SC8zRmXDhAI/AAAAAAAAAQo/I5xdfX-J6ck/s400/DSCN0078.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/1235139575261099979-2554993718657748697?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2554993718657748697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2554993718657748697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2554993718657748697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2554993718657748697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/kendi-and-abby.html' title='Kendi and Abby'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SC8zRmXDhAI/AAAAAAAAAQo/I5xdfX-J6ck/s72-c/DSCN0078.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-960386900313096245</id><published>2008-05-16T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T15:35:55.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendi Says. . .</title><content type='html'>Jared wasn't feeling well and Kendi could sense his discomfort.  She kept saying to him, "Don't be mad.  You be happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our home was going to be sprayed for bugs.  I put all of Kendi's toys in a basket so they wouldn't be on the floor.  She went into her room and yelled, "What happened in here?  This is not good!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi loves lotion.  She has figured out how to pump it out by herself.  After she had rubbed lotion all over herself several times, I told her that I thought she had enough.  She then told me, "No, I not done.  I be mad."  And that's a threat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-960386900313096245?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/960386900313096245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=960386900313096245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/960386900313096245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/960386900313096245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/kendi-says.html' title='Kendi Says. . .'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1095182554797790232</id><published>2008-05-05T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T11:18:39.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing a Song</title><content type='html'>Kendi and I were sitting in church while Jared was passing the sacrament.  Kendi grabbed a hymn book and told me she was going to "sing a song."  She opened up the book and started singing, "Rattle, rattle, beep, beep.  Rattle, rattle, beep, beep," while honking her nose.  I laughed out loud when I realized that she was singing "I'm a little piece of tin."  My mom sings it to her when she is in the car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1095182554797790232?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1095182554797790232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1095182554797790232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1095182554797790232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1095182554797790232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/sing-song.html' title='Sing a Song'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-613714373879439962</id><published>2008-05-01T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T12:33:36.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cure All</title><content type='html'>Kendi wanted to watch Cars today so I told her that if she would brush her teeth then she could watch Cars. She said, "Nuh-uh." So I told her that she needed to keep her teeth clean or she would get cavities and cavaties hurt. All she said back to me was, "I'll get band-aids." I wish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-613714373879439962?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/613714373879439962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=613714373879439962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/613714373879439962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/613714373879439962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/cure-all.html' title='Cure All'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-649286248775594063</id><published>2008-05-01T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T08:43:36.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baaaa Loooon!</title><content type='html'>People think that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; says balloon funny.   What they don't know is that she used to say, "Baboon."  So I helped her by over-enunciating the word balloon for her and now she says it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; the way I taught her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jared was blowing up a balloon for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; and she got really excited and said, "Pop it!"  Jared told her, "No, no, no, lets make some funny noise."  He tried to stretch the balloon so that it would screech, but it would only make a loud &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;flatulent&lt;/span&gt; noise.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; giggled and said really loud, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;SCUSE&lt;/span&gt; IT!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-649286248775594063?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/649286248775594063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=649286248775594063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/649286248775594063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/649286248775594063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/05/baaaa-loooon.html' title='Baaaa Loooon!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-4277841731805266318</id><published>2008-04-26T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T14:50:17.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations</title><content type='html'>Kendi made an observation on the way home one night.  She said, "Its dark outside, turn the light on out there."  I thought that was pretty funny and I was thinking about how to explain the sun and moon to her, but then she said, "The moon stopped."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-4277841731805266318?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/4277841731805266318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=4277841731805266318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4277841731805266318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/4277841731805266318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/04/observations.html' title='Observations'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6387100581250195509</id><published>2008-04-19T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T15:49:16.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SApwYnDeq4I/AAAAAAAAAN0/43t_BeLnZQU/s1600-h/DSC04542.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191085088600664962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SApwYnDeq4I/AAAAAAAAAN0/43t_BeLnZQU/s400/DSC04542.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kendi loves to be outside. Even if its kind of cold she doesn't care. She's been this way since she was an infant. We love it when spring finally comes around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi is becoming her own person in the things she says and does. She's starting to figure out things by herself. A couple days ago I added a David Archuleta song to the computer and when Kendi heard it she said, "That's American Idol Song!" Maybe we watch too much American Idol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi saw a picture of President Hinkley and asked, "Is that a grandpa?" I told her that it was President Hinkley and then nodding her head she said, "President Grandpa."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we read our scripture Kendi likes to have her own. So, Jared gives her his Jesus the Christ book from his scripture case. I watched Kendi the other day as she climbed up onto our bed, opened "her scriptures" and said, "And it came to pass."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi watches PBS in the mourning while she eats her breakfast. Jared sits by her and works on his laptop. Kendi crawled into his lap one day and asked him for "P B S Kids Dot Org." I noticed that Kendi pays way more attention to the tv than I realize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were shopping today, Kendi was very disturbed by the manikins.  She kept saying, "No heads, what happened to their heads."  I never realized that manikins don't have heads.  It might be more creepy to me if they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendi is getting so big that she is able to do things that scare me.  She can open the front door by herself and she knows that when she can't open it, it's because of the deadbolt.  Now I'm glad that I have to lift up on the door to get it to unlock.  How long until she figures that out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can also climb into the bathtub by herself.  Luckily, she doesn't like to take baths as much as she use to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, Kendi knows when its time for bed because she turns into this perfect little angel.  She says and does the cutest things.  I have the hardest time putting her to bed and I'm sure she is aware of her effects on me.  Lately, she will come to me and ask if I'm sad.  If I say no then she keeps asking until I say yes, then she gives me the sweetest hug and a kiss and asks, "Are you happy now?"  I love her so much.  Can you tell?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6387100581250195509?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6387100581250195509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6387100581250195509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6387100581250195509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6387100581250195509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/04/kendi-loves-to-be-outside.html' title=''/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SApwYnDeq4I/AAAAAAAAAN0/43t_BeLnZQU/s72-c/DSC04542.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2264028800727820116</id><published>2008-04-14T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T17:22:25.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SAP0BtZr0HI/AAAAAAAAAMk/1gSTGZJJjhE/s1600-h/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189259505865314418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SAP0BtZr0HI/AAAAAAAAAMk/1gSTGZJJjhE/s400/002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Kendi earned a bunch of Play-Doh toys by using the potty.  She plays with them for hours.&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/1235139575261099979-2264028800727820116?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2264028800727820116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2264028800727820116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2264028800727820116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2264028800727820116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-girl.html' title='Happy Girl'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/SAP0BtZr0HI/AAAAAAAAAMk/1gSTGZJJjhE/s72-c/002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-1789794691578689965</id><published>2008-04-07T22:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T23:10:53.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All in One Day</title><content type='html'>Today was a good day. Especially with the potty training efforts. I think that my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;excitement&lt;/span&gt; must have rubbed off on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; because she seemed to be having a good day too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For lunch I was boiling some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;spaghetti&lt;/span&gt; noodles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; wanted to watch. I picked her up and was explaining that the stove was hot and that the water was boiling. All &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; said was, "Oh, cooking bubbles," very matter-of-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;factly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was being a very good mommy to her dolly like she usually is. I can't even explain how cute she is to this doll. Jared was working on the couch when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; came up to him asking if he would open the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;balmex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; tube she had somehow found. He then noticed that her baby was face down on the table with its hind end up in the air and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; said, "Baby's bum dirty," while nodding her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; starts to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;temper mental&lt;/span&gt; as the day goes on. Later, she was trying to wrap her baby in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;blankie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, but the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;blankie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; wasn't laying flat for her. So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; started shaking the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;blankie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; furiously. Finally, she settled for just scooping everything into her arms. As she was trying to walk with the baby she realized that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;blankie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was dragging and she kept stepping on it. At this point &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; had had enough. Jared could hear her frustration coming from the hallway. Then she flung the baby down the hallway followed by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;blankie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; then proceeded throw herself on the ground and kick and throw her arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way up to G and G Barnes' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; kept saying, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Boh&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;ger&lt;/span&gt;."  She said it over and over the whole way there.  At one time she even said, "Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Boh&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ger&lt;/span&gt;."  We weren't exactly sure what she was trying to tell us.  When Jared went to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; out of the car seat, he set his hand on her leg and realize exactly what she was trying to say.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had figured out how to pick her nose and was wiping it on her pants.  Lots of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-1789794691578689965?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/1789794691578689965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=1789794691578689965' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1789794691578689965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/1789794691578689965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/04/all-in-one-day.html' title='All in One Day'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5091363906240387230</id><published>2008-04-06T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T18:34:11.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training Update</title><content type='html'>It has been a week since we started.  Kendi is having good days and bad days.  She can hold it all day when she wants to.  So, I have to tell her to go to the bathroom instead of asking.  And I try not to mention only as little as possible. She has done really well that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5091363906240387230?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5091363906240387230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5091363906240387230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5091363906240387230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5091363906240387230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/04/potty-training-update.html' title='Potty Training Update'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-7551371421303431618</id><published>2008-03-30T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T12:07:38.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Underwear</title><content type='html'>So Kendi found the new underwear that I had bought her.  She has never used underwear, but for some reason she knew what it was.  Except she didn't know what they were called.  As she was pulling them out of the package she kept repeating, "Cute bums. . . cute bums."  She even looked at me and asked, "Bums for Kendi?"  And then she tried to put them on herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-7551371421303431618?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/7551371421303431618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=7551371421303431618' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7551371421303431618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/7551371421303431618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/underwear.html' title='Underwear'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6178814942470834903</id><published>2008-03-28T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T21:55:31.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hide and Seek?</title><content type='html'>Did your mother ever ask you to do something and if you didn't jump right to it she would start counting?  My mom did a lot and if she ever got to number three before we started moving we were in serious trouble.  She would even add "two and a half, two and three quarters."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I have to ask Kendi to do something four or five times and then threaten to put her in time-out before she will do it.  I feel the urge to start counting the way my mom did.  I've always resisted this urge because I know Kendi wouldn't understand and because part of me doesn't want to sound just like my mom.  Not that it would be a bad thing.  I can just still hear my mom's words, "Someday you'll have a child just like you.  You know, what goes around comes around!"  My response to that was, "Maybe what went around came around."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the other day I was getting something out of the fridge.  Kendi loves to look in the fridge.  She's fasinated by it.  She would stand there all day with the door wide open.  So, I asked her to close it after a while.  After asking her four or five times I could feel my patience running short.  It was the end of a tiring day.  Instead of loosing my patience I started counting because I didn't want to think of anything else.  When I got to two Kendi spun around, smiled up at me, pointed and shouted, "GO HIDE!"  I laughed really hard.  It was just what I needed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6178814942470834903?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6178814942470834903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6178814942470834903' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6178814942470834903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6178814942470834903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/hide-and-seek.html' title='Hide and Seek?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2664525978439259338</id><published>2008-03-28T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:22:11.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair Cut!</title><content type='html'>Kendi has needed her hair trimmed for a little while now.  Today, I got brave and decided to see if she would sit still enough for me.  After giving her a bath, I set her down in front of the tv.  When I combed through her hair I realized that it was longer than mine.  She had her head looking up so it seemed longer than it really was, but it was touching the top of her diaper.  I took about an inch off and it looks much better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2664525978439259338?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2664525978439259338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2664525978439259338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2664525978439259338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2664525978439259338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/hair-cut.html' title='Hair Cut!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-8755687683216452909</id><published>2008-03-20T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T09:32:55.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Three</title><content type='html'>My advice is to only do one major change at a time if you can help it.  Kendi is doing fine without her binky, but she wouldn't stay in her bed for a nap yesterday.  I had to put the railing back on her crib.  Now she realizes that she is trapped and that her freedom is gone which makes her mad.  Poor Kendi, she suffers because of our mistakes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-8755687683216452909?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/8755687683216452909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=8755687683216452909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8755687683216452909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/8755687683216452909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-three.html' title='Day Three'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-728041915600795010</id><published>2008-03-18T22:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T22:43:33.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div border="0" align="center"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.jaredbarnes.com/blogspot/happybirthday.gif"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-728041915600795010?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/728041915600795010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=728041915600795010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/728041915600795010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/728041915600795010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-6994701648614217337</id><published>2008-03-18T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T22:27:02.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Two</title><content type='html'>So far, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; has accepted the fact that the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;binky&lt;/span&gt; is no more.  If you ask her about it she will tell you about how it is "broken."  We are so proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Jared decided that since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; is reaching several "big girl" milestones that it was time to convert her bed to a toddler bed.  I must admit that I was unsure of this decision.  To my surprise &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; loves it.  This morning when she started making a little noise Jared went to check on her.  He found her with her feet on the floor, bent over her bed, with her face buried in her pillow.  At first he thought she was sleeping this way until she somehow sensed that he was there and turned her head up and said, "wanna bottle!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I went to put her down for a nap.  She cried a little and then went quiet.  A few minutes later I could hear rummaging coming from her toy basket.  I helped her back to bed and she stayed that time.  She surprises me more everyday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-6994701648614217337?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/6994701648614217337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=6994701648614217337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6994701648614217337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/6994701648614217337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-two.html' title='Day Two'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-5226211084692083347</id><published>2008-03-17T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T22:19:22.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day One - No Binky</title><content type='html'>We cut off the end of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kendi's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Binky&lt;/span&gt; and told her it was broken.  She pulled the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;saddest&lt;/span&gt; face when she saw and Jared and I felt really bad.  We know that this is for the the best and its our fault for waiting so long, but it was hard to see how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt; she was.  So far, she has handled it better than we thought.  As long as we wait till she really tired to put her down, she is able to fall asleep without it.  We were surprised because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kendi&lt;/span&gt; had never slept a night in her life without a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Binky&lt;/span&gt;.  A couple of times she has woken up in the night and tried to find her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Binky&lt;/span&gt; and then got really mad when she couldn't find it.  Other than that we have all slept well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-5226211084692083347?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/5226211084692083347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=5226211084692083347' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5226211084692083347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/5226211084692083347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-one-no-binky.html' title='Day One - No Binky'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1235139575261099979.post-2187180681773932068</id><published>2008-03-10T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T12:48:14.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Polite?</title><content type='html'>Kendi and I were sharing a chair at my parents' house yesterday.  Kendi decided that she didn't want me to sit by her anymore and said, "Move mama!"  I asked her to be polite and she said, "please."  I then said to her, "Please what?"  She said, "Please GET OFF!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1235139575261099979-2187180681773932068?l=kendimoments.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/feeds/2187180681773932068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1235139575261099979&amp;postID=2187180681773932068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2187180681773932068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1235139575261099979/posts/default/2187180681773932068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kendimoments.blogspot.com/2008/03/polite.html' title='Polite?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10693990881758664309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ll_v7HqS0SA/S66Ka1hPlYI/AAAAAAAABlU/tDbyBHruLNU/S220/Kisses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
