<?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-21519935</id><updated>2012-02-01T14:05:16.662-07:00</updated><category term='Comments'/><title type='text'>The New Wife Vents - Stories of a Stepmom</title><subtitle type='html'>A new wife shares her experiences with being a stepmom and ultimately dealing with the ongoing challenges that an ex-wife presents.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>102</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4068732329690104215</id><published>2010-08-15T23:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T23:37:43.358-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Children?</title><summary type='text'>What would you do if you spouse didn't want to have children and you wanted to?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4068732329690104215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4068732329690104215' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4068732329690104215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4068732329690104215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2010/08/children.html' title='Children?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8598431930280416585</id><published>2010-07-08T11:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T11:40:16.279-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery Fun</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild had to have surgery a few weeks ago. It was a fairly routine procedure, but, naturally, my stepchild was nervous about it. We (my husband, the ex, and me) waited patiently in the waiting room throughout the surgery, and during the first part of recovery, only one parent could go, so my husband and the ex played “Rock, Paper, Scissors” to see who would go. Although that sounds silly, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8598431930280416585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8598431930280416585' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8598431930280416585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8598431930280416585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2010/07/surgery-fun.html' title='Surgery Fun'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-5397959704508508738</id><published>2010-06-16T01:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T01:42:27.925-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comments'/><title type='text'>Comments</title><summary type='text'>So it's been ages since I've blogged, and every now and again, I get a comment, which reminds me that I should blog, but then I put it off. However, I'm in the midst of waiting for software to install on one of my web servers and working through my lesson plan for that two classes I teach tomorrow, and I thought I should just take a break and blog.Although, I have very minimal comment moderation </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/5397959704508508738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=5397959704508508738' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5397959704508508738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5397959704508508738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2010/06/comments.html' title='Comments'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1598303548938817392</id><published>2009-12-01T21:17:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T21:21:50.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ornaments</title><summary type='text'>We like to make crafts at our house.  I was showing my stepchild how to make ornaments with clear glass ornaments and potpourri.  They are quite cute, and I've been making them for over a decade now.They were so delighted with the idea and wanted to give some to their mom and their mom's mom for Christmas.  Luckily, I have a bunch of them, so my stepchild is choosing the color of potpourri for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1598303548938817392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1598303548938817392' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1598303548938817392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1598303548938817392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/12/ornaments.html' title='Ornaments'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1404239347532484329</id><published>2009-12-01T04:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T04:50:02.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordle</title><summary type='text'>It's been awhile since I captured my thoughts on stepmotherhood, so enjoy this treat:</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1404239347532484329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1404239347532484329' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1404239347532484329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1404239347532484329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/12/wordle.html' title='Wordle'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-5017557069322620641</id><published>2009-06-14T21:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T21:33:34.142-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay, 11!</title><summary type='text'>Today we celebrated my stepchild's 11th birthday.  It's amazing to see how much they've grown since I met them at five years of age.  Only another seven more years and they'll be off to college.  I never thought time would go so fast, and I never thought I'd be a stepmom.  We went to a local hotspot for families.  We played mini-golf, laser tag, and arcade games.  I opted out of most of the fun </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/5017557069322620641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=5017557069322620641' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5017557069322620641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5017557069322620641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/06/yay-11.html' title='Yay, 11!'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-5303200674468343634</id><published>2009-05-08T23:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T23:30:02.373-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><summary type='text'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  As a little girl, we dreamt of how life is going to be when we grow up. Some of us dreamt about becoming loving mothers or having exciting careers or the wonderful homes we were going to have.  We never dreamt about marrying a divorcee and becoming a stepmother, and that’s not a bad thing.   I never thought I would marry, and consequently, I never thought about becoming a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/5303200674468343634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=5303200674468343634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5303200674468343634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5303200674468343634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/05/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4746880181450275553</id><published>2009-05-05T09:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T09:48:34.129-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepmother's Day?</title><summary type='text'>For all the stepmom's out there, I would love to know if you have any special traditions for this Sunday.  To be honest, I have none.  I don't really care for this holiday.  I'm not a mother, I'm a stepmom.  We are the "lesser class" of mothers in certain eyes.  Mostly, I would rather not celebrate this holiday, except to honor my own mom. I'd rather just rename this holiday "The New Wife Vents </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4746880181450275553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4746880181450275553' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4746880181450275553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4746880181450275553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/05/stepmothers-day.html' title='Stepmother&apos;s Day?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4949982729949591009</id><published>2009-03-16T15:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T16:07:52.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bankruptcy</title><summary type='text'>I was having a conversation with my stepchild a few days ago, and they disclosed that their mother declared bankruptcy a few years ago.  It makes a lot of sense considering her past issues with money and employment.  Although, I’m surprised that she would have quickly turned to bankruptcy, which makes me think she must have accrued a sizeable amount of debt.  My stepchild wasn’t exactly sure what</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4949982729949591009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4949982729949591009' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4949982729949591009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4949982729949591009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/03/bankruptcy.html' title='Bankruptcy'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4004312558810626210</id><published>2009-03-02T17:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T17:22:31.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with Cousins</title><summary type='text'>We went to the planetarium last Friday.  My stepchild, 8-year-old niece, and 6-year-old niece went with me.  Since my husband was going to be gone for the evening, I thought it would be fun to have an outing with the cousins.  My stepchild had a blast.  Naturally, they like to take charge of things, and they spent much time telling their two cousins about everything they knew related to the stars</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4004312558810626210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4004312558810626210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4004312558810626210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4004312558810626210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/03/fun-with-cousins.html' title='Fun with Cousins'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-9159772775209326708</id><published>2009-02-23T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T00:18:54.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy Scare</title><summary type='text'>We had a little pregnancy scare today.  While at the grocery store buying a pregnancy test, I mentally started preparing myself for the possibility of having a baby.  These thoughts compounded with the terrible, horrible past week I had almost induce a panic attack in aisle.  Luckily, my husband prevented my nervous breakdown by making a snarky remark about the personal lubrication products, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/9159772775209326708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=9159772775209326708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/9159772775209326708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/9159772775209326708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/02/pregnancy-scare.html' title='Pregnancy Scare'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6397527500398322511</id><published>2009-01-25T20:36:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T21:20:59.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bronze Medallist</title><summary type='text'>When finding out that my husband had been married twice before he married me, a co-worker commented, “How does it feel to be the bronze medallist?”I am not sure how I feel about this statement. Usually I have some quick and witty retort to something like this, but all I could do is start at them dumbfounded realizing that maybe I am the bronze medallist.I have always been someone that does well </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6397527500398322511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6397527500398322511' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6397527500398322511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6397527500398322511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/01/bronze-medallist.html' title='Bronze Medallist'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUZrUiCa3ME/SX054_uJ42I/AAAAAAAAACY/q1kOC5nsoJk/s72-c/medals.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6945897262557510960</id><published>2009-01-07T17:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T17:21:00.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Appointment Set</title><summary type='text'>So I set that dreaded doctor's appointment.  I'm not looking forward to it.  It seems that every time I go to the doctor, it ends up turning into lots of tests and bigger issues than I would have liked.  Plus, with my family history I'll admit I'm a bit scared.  I won't go into morbid details, but my mom had the same symptoms several years ago and ended up have a large tumor removed along with </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6945897262557510960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6945897262557510960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6945897262557510960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6945897262557510960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/01/appointment-set.html' title='Appointment Set'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2476189017399172312</id><published>2009-01-06T00:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T00:38:18.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year, I Guess...</title><summary type='text'>I think it is funny to see people blog about resolutions, and typically, they resolve to blog once a day.  I resolve to blog whenever I feel like it, so consider my averages, I may blog once or so a month.  If not, oh well…Overall, Christmas was fun.  There was a miscommunication over the Santa gift, but we ended up resolving it with a quick jaunt to Best Buy.  One advantage about having a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2476189017399172312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2476189017399172312' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2476189017399172312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2476189017399172312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year-i-guess.html' title='Happy New Year, I Guess...'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8290465131248770507</id><published>2008-12-18T23:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T23:39:20.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Year Older...</title><summary type='text'>I’m such a bad blogger. I have friends that blog almost everyday, and I’m lucky if I blog once per month. Although, I feel I’ve done fairly well this year and have only missed a few months. ;)I’ve found I go through really busy spells where the last thing I consider is blogging. Maybe I’ll make it a New Year’s resolution to blog consistently. On second thought, I think I’ll resolve to do some a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8290465131248770507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8290465131248770507' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8290465131248770507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8290465131248770507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/12/another-year-older.html' title='Another Year Older...'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-7340228579860017785</id><published>2008-11-17T23:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T23:29:44.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No, I'm Not Having a Baby, and You Can't Make Me!</title><summary type='text'>My sister just gave birth to her fifth daughter yesterday.  The baby is very cute.  She doesn’t have a name yet, but I’m sure she will tomorrow.  I went to visit my sister early in the evening.  I made sure to go early before the labor got rough.  Not that I don’t want to be supportive, but I don’t do well when it comes to familial medial procedures.  Also, witnessing the birth of a child is one </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/7340228579860017785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=7340228579860017785' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7340228579860017785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7340228579860017785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-im-not-having-baby-and-you-cant-make.html' title='No, I&apos;m Not Having a Baby, and You Can&apos;t Make Me!'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8461169455048465685</id><published>2008-11-09T22:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T22:41:05.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Present For the Ex</title><summary type='text'>My husband had a special engagement planned on Friday so that left me in charge of my stepchild. We decided to go out to eat and then go Christmas shopping. It’s been a tradition we’ve had for a few years now. My husband will go somewhere, and my stepchild and I will get an early start on Christmas shopping. It’s super fun because we always find fun things. We found more ornaments for our </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8461169455048465685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8461169455048465685' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8461169455048465685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8461169455048465685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/11/present-for-ex.html' title='A Present For the Ex'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2243718168892317507</id><published>2008-11-02T23:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T23:28:15.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introversion</title><summary type='text'>I feel an introverted spell coming on.  I’m not really introverted.  If anything, I’m too extroverted.  Being extroverted has worked to my advantage with my interest in music and theatrical performance and my long career as a teacher.  However, I do find times where I just don’t want to socialize.  I’ve found that being married to someone who is the epitome of introversion makes it very easy for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2243718168892317507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2243718168892317507' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2243718168892317507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2243718168892317507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/11/introversion.html' title='Introversion'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUZrUiCa3ME/SQ6Z-KUTDmI/AAAAAAAAAB0/fmVSWafCiyI/s72-c/introvert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6366482619059733494</id><published>2008-10-20T14:20:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T14:26:04.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Physical Violence</title><summary type='text'>From an email the ex sent my husband:"Any physical discipline to step child's name withheld from anyone besides myself is not acceptable."I'll explain more later once I get over my shock and dismay.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6366482619059733494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6366482619059733494' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6366482619059733494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6366482619059733494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/10/physical-violence.html' title='Physical Violence'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-7623655645597789514</id><published>2008-10-09T04:00:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T04:11:29.741-06:00</updated><title type='text'>4am Ramblings</title><summary type='text'>It's 4am in the morning?  Why am I blogging?  Well, I'm waiting for a web report to finish running.  The report has been dying all night because it's very particular.  Needless to say that is the reason why I've been working for far too long.  I think I'll take Friday off and go get a haircut.  I've neglected my hair, and it's gotten super long.  My hair grows very fast, and I have a tendency to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/7623655645597789514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=7623655645597789514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7623655645597789514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7623655645597789514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/10/rambilings-at-4am.html' title='4am Ramblings'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4808284418675935271</id><published>2008-09-28T19:13:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T23:40:30.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Year Coutdown</title><summary type='text'>It's really sad when your stepchild tells you that they love their stepdad, but they don't think that the marriage will last more than two years. Obviously, it's not a match made in heaven for the ex and her new man. It just seems odd that you would jump into marriage and have it so quickly turn to divorce talk. I could care less what becomes of the ex, but I feel bad for my stepchild who with </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4808284418675935271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4808284418675935271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4808284418675935271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4808284418675935271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/09/two-year-coutdown.html' title='Two Year Coutdown'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2059587423211673703</id><published>2008-09-25T21:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T21:54:34.163-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lap of Luxury</title><summary type='text'>The ex lives with her new redneck husband in the western most part of town.  Honestly, you can’t get anymore west than her neighborhood.They say a picture paints a thousand words, but I can only conjure up 135.You will notice that the "abode" features an amazing exterior chain link fence, which doubles as a place to hang your laundry.  Plus, when you hang your laundry over the chain link fence, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2059587423211673703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2059587423211673703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2059587423211673703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2059587423211673703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/09/lap-of-luxury.html' title='The Lap of Luxury'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vUZrUiCa3ME/SNxc5JnU4MI/AAAAAAAAABs/zCr-wt4O0IA/s72-c/house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-7367349291940454458</id><published>2008-09-24T02:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T02:24:48.293-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotations</title><summary type='text'>Oh to be a stepmom...We are lauded by philsophers and writers throughout the ages.Better a serpent than a stepmother!- Euripides, 480-406 BCLike the man who threw a stone at a bitch, but hit his step-mother, on which he exclaimed, “Not so bad!”- Plutarch, 46-120 ADNature, more of a stepmother than a mother in several ways, has sown a seed of evil in the hearts of mortals, especially in the more </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/7367349291940454458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=7367349291940454458' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7367349291940454458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7367349291940454458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/09/quotations.html' title='Quotations'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6678589066928496147</id><published>2008-09-23T18:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T18:21:48.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedded Bliss</title><summary type='text'>Only two months into wedded bliss, and the ex is already having marital discontent.  When asked about how things went at their mom’s place this past week, my stepchild said:Mommy and &lt;&gt; are fighting.  He’s gone a lot, and mommy got really mad.  She was on the phone with him, and the last thing she said was, "I hope this is worth what you are about to lose."I was a bit taken aback by the ex.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6678589066928496147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6678589066928496147' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6678589066928496147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6678589066928496147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/09/wedded-bliss.html' title='Wedded Bliss'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6832780952070483532</id><published>2008-07-23T22:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T22:37:43.944-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Short-lived Return of the Goats</title><summary type='text'>Did I tell you the goats came back? Well, they did. –And just shortly after their return the ex and her redneck husband found out that their property is not zoned for these types of animals.The goats had wandered off and were picked up by the animal control. They were placed in an animal shelter, which is probably just someone’s farm. The ex received a notice in the mail that she could come and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6832780952070483532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6832780952070483532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6832780952070483532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6832780952070483532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/shortlived-return-of-goats.html' title='The Short-lived Return of the Goats'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-7404497429848211974</id><published>2008-07-22T22:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T22:44:51.336-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Violence Does Not Solve Things</title><summary type='text'>Enough with the hitting! The ex’s father hits her sister. The ex will hit her sister. The ex slaps my stepchild. The ex’s husband smacks his kids around.What is with all of the violence?!?My stepchild now thinks this is acceptable behavior. These behaviors are not only wrong, but they are abusive. When we display such ignorant acts of violence around children, they only perpetuate this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/7404497429848211974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=7404497429848211974' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7404497429848211974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/7404497429848211974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/violence-does-not-solve-things.html' title='Violence Does Not Solve Things'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-3668593140975969441</id><published>2008-07-13T23:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T23:26:13.857-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Your Typical Sunday</title><summary type='text'>Sundays can be a hugely hectic day for us.  Sundays are the day that we switch with the ex.  It’s also the day that we finish our weekly house cleaning tasks, go grocery shopping, etc.  Basically, all the things we need to do because the rest of the week we, well I, are working.  Now before you go and give me a sternly-worded lecture on the importance of keeping the Sabbath day holy, please </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/3668593140975969441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=3668593140975969441' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3668593140975969441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3668593140975969441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/not-your-typical-sunday.html' title='Not Your Typical Sunday'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2684547179410291967</id><published>2008-07-09T22:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T22:40:20.321-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Economic Stimulus</title><summary type='text'>We ended up receiving the $300 child credit with this year’s economic stimulus.  My husband and I pondered over this amount prior to receiving it.  Technically, it is really a lucky fluke that we got it.  Had it this government incentive been given out in an odd year, it would have gone to the ex.  As the divorce decree stands, the ex claims my stepchild for even tax years, and we claim the child</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2684547179410291967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2684547179410291967' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2684547179410291967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2684547179410291967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/economic-stimulus.html' title='Economic Stimulus'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-56084524916016616</id><published>2008-07-08T21:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T21:22:35.591-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Adult Store Errand</title><summary type='text'>The ex took my stepchild to an adult store.  Yes, an adult store that sells dildos, bondage accoutrements, and assortment of porn.  Please understand that this is not a conservative tirade on why sex shops should be outlawed.  I have no problem with these stores, nor do I feel that we, as a community, should force them into closure.  However, I firmly believe that these businesses are geared to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/56084524916016616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=56084524916016616' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/56084524916016616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/56084524916016616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/adult-store-errand.html' title='Adult Store Errand'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2580611097516609689</id><published>2008-07-07T22:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T22:40:19.645-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To the New Stepfather</title><summary type='text'>Dear Soon-to-be-stepfather of My Stepchild,If you smack around and abuse my stepchild the same way you do your own children, I vow to bring upon you severe consequences.  No, I am not threatening physical violence as retribution.  Although, I cannot account for what my husband were to do to you were to choose to be abusive.  What I do promise is that I will retain the hire the best lawyers in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2580611097516609689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2580611097516609689' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2580611097516609689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2580611097516609689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/07/to-new-stepfather.html' title='To the New Stepfather'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2197481692071344347</id><published>2008-05-01T23:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T23:55:38.272-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you?</title><summary type='text'>Enter my world of the “did you…” questions.Typical Questions to Stepchild:Did you brush your teeth? Did you take a shower? Did you do your homework? Did you do your chores? Did you make your bed? Did you hang up your towel? Did you practice the drums? Did you practice the piano? Did you call your mother? Did you remember to tell your mother…? Typical Questions to Husband: Did you brush your teeth</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2197481692071344347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2197481692071344347' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2197481692071344347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2197481692071344347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/05/did-you.html' title='Did you?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1961656125693185005</id><published>2008-04-28T12:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T12:54:45.382-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goat-nappings</title><summary type='text'>Oh, terrible tragedy!  Someone has stolen the goats.  Yes, goats.  The ex opted to get two.  Only after a week at their new home, they were taken from the yard.  My stepchild informed me that only the goats were taken.  The dog was still romping around the yard when they discovered the goat-nappings.  The gate was closed as it had been when they left in the morning.  Nothing else was stolen.  It </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1961656125693185005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1961656125693185005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1961656125693185005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1961656125693185005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/goat-nappings.html' title='Goat-nappings'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-879273060253194179</id><published>2008-04-15T17:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T17:09:11.683-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bocephus</title><summary type='text'>And the goat's name is Bocephus.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/879273060253194179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=879273060253194179' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/879273060253194179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/879273060253194179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/bocephus.html' title='Bocephus'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4878145812896951472</id><published>2008-04-14T14:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T14:59:14.679-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Barking Husband</title><summary type='text'>This isn’t a typical stepmom post, but I just couldn’t resist recounting this event.My husband has a tendency to talk in his sleep.  In the past it would happen maybe once per year.  Typically, he would mutter something random, which would wake me up, and I would either respond to whatever silly question he would be asking or try and wake him up so he would stop talking.  Now the sleep talking is</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4878145812896951472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4878145812896951472' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4878145812896951472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4878145812896951472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-barking-husband.html' title='My Barking Husband'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6600464947760962901</id><published>2008-04-12T11:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T11:51:48.435-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Socks</title><summary type='text'>If I find one more pair of nine-year-old dirty socks tucked under my pillow, I’m going to scream.  My husband and stepchild like to watch TV when I’m gone, which happens to be about 90% of the time.  I wouldn’t care so much, if my stepchild wouldn’t leave their shoes on the floor for me to trip on along with their dirty, icky, stinky socks tucked under my pillow only to be found after I come home</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6600464947760962901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6600464947760962901' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6600464947760962901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6600464947760962901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/dirty-socks.html' title='Dirty Socks'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-3892899921986968117</id><published>2008-04-10T20:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T21:00:27.947-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Life of a Workaholic</title><summary type='text'>I should be working.  Yes, my name is Amy, and I am a workaholic.  I’ve always enjoyed working.  It gives me a sense of accomplishment.  I have several jobs.  I work in the IT sector, I teach college, I teach piano.  I put together my regular weekly schedule the other day, and I realize that I pretty much book myself solid from 8am – 1am.  It is my choice, so I can’t complain.  Although, I do </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/3892899921986968117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=3892899921986968117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3892899921986968117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3892899921986968117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-of-workaholic.html' title='The Life of a Workaholic'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2085632628473501332</id><published>2008-04-07T14:55:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T15:05:15.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Goat</title><summary type='text'>Apparently the ex is going to be the proud new owner of a goat.  In a conversation my husband and I had with my stepchild, we were told the following:Stepchild:  So mommy is going to get a goat.Me:  A goat?  Really?  Why?Stepchild:  Because our grass is over this high *indicating with their hands that the grass is over 16"*Me:  Oh, you can get a lawn mower for that.Stepchild:  We already have </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2085632628473501332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2085632628473501332' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2085632628473501332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2085632628473501332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/goat.html' title='A Goat'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8479168502183854164</id><published>2008-04-02T00:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T00:28:19.171-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ex to Stepmom</title><summary type='text'>So once the ex marries her redneck fiance, and yes, he is a redneck according to my stepchild, she will become the stepmother of three boys and one girl. Two of these stepchildren are in their 20s, which makes me wonder how old her fiance was when he had them. It's interesting to hear my stepchild recount negative experience their mother has had with her fiance's ex wife. I find it all too ironic</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8479168502183854164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8479168502183854164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8479168502183854164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8479168502183854164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/04/ex-to-stepmom.html' title='Ex to Stepmom'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8975382103494989077</id><published>2008-03-18T13:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:39:15.585-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgiveness</title><summary type='text'>I was very intrigued by the results of the informal survey. According to the poll:23% of remarried husbands have forgiven their ex-wives. 40% of remarried husbands have not forgiven their ex-wives. 12% of remarried husbands have nothing to forgive their ex-wives for. 63 votes were cast in this poll, so our sampling is small, and the following hasn’t been taken into account: Double-cast </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8975382103494989077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8975382103494989077' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8975382103494989077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8975382103494989077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/03/forgiveness.html' title='Forgiveness'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-678670663312933633</id><published>2008-03-14T13:49:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T13:49:52.916-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Engaged</title><summary type='text'>The ex is engaged.  She told my stepchild yesterday.  My husband was the last to know, and his only comment was, "The poor sap; he doesn’t know what he’s in for."</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/678670663312933633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=678670663312933633' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/678670663312933633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/678670663312933633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/03/engaged.html' title='Engaged'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4857618233385300809</id><published>2008-03-12T15:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T15:59:47.322-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spare Children Wanted</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild would like to have siblings.  I take it back; they would love to have a brother or sister.  They really don't care what gender.  They would be happy with either.  Anyone have a spare child they aren’t using?  I promise it will have a great older sibling, and it will spare me having to deal with pregnancy and such. :)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4857618233385300809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4857618233385300809' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4857618233385300809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4857618233385300809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/03/spare-children-wanted.html' title='Spare Children Wanted'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1469636668169565103</id><published>2008-02-29T20:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T21:00:51.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step-parent Adoption?</title><summary type='text'>I'm not sure what to think about this.  From: http://www.sltrib.com//ci_8396493:Lawmakers pass step-parent adoption lawBy Robert GehrkeThe Salt Lake TribuneStep-parents could go to court and ask a judge to grant them custody or visitation rights, under a bill passed Thursday by the Legislature and headed to the governor. The measure addresses a Utah Supreme Court decision last year in the case of</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1469636668169565103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1469636668169565103' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1469636668169565103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1469636668169565103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/step-parent-adoption.html' title='Step-parent Adoption?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6828728644832344494</id><published>2008-02-23T23:20:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T23:25:06.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Souvenirs</title><summary type='text'>Have you ever bought your child a present and thought, "I swear I already bought them this exact present?"My husband and I just got back from vacation, and we picked up a souvenir for my stepchild.  My husband picked it out from a local music store in San Francisco, and I am fairly certain that my stepchild already has one in their possession.  Now, I could be wrong.  However, I once bought them </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6828728644832344494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6828728644832344494' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6828728644832344494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6828728644832344494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/souvenirs.html' title='Souvenirs'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-5464145539759958487</id><published>2008-02-21T00:25:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T11:10:11.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photographing Motherhood</title><summary type='text'>So I know that I won't be winning points for my opinion on this, but if I ever have kids of my own, I will not have any pictures of me visibly pregnant or directly after giving birth.  To each their own, but I do not understand why women like to capture their pregnant figure on film.  I know many folks out there like to turn these occasions into Kodak moments for their posterity to muse over.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/5464145539759958487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=5464145539759958487' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5464145539759958487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/5464145539759958487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/photographing-motherhood.html' title='Photographing Motherhood'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUZrUiCa3ME/R70n_PwST1I/AAAAAAAAAA8/qRNsKQJZVJw/s72-c/pregnant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-3445388483909372821</id><published>2008-02-18T13:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T13:25:12.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When's It Due?</title><summary type='text'>We caught my stepchild in another lie about schoolwork deadlines.  It’s Science Fair time again, and my husband and I are spearheading the project this year.  Throughout the last few weeks, I have asked my stepchild when the project is due, and their answer would be at the end of the month.  During dinner on Saturday, we had the following conversation:Me:  So you do you know the specific date </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/3445388483909372821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=3445388483909372821' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3445388483909372821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3445388483909372821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/whens-it-due.html' title='When&apos;s It Due?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4431681809648689783</id><published>2008-02-11T11:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T11:13:35.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Respect</title><summary type='text'>I enjoy reading other stepmom blogs from time to time. The Wicked Stepmom has some very poignant and intelligent posted on her life as a stepmom and mother of two. In one of her posts, she discusses a difficult conversation that she had with the bio mom of her very cute stepdaughter. Toward the end of her post, she concluded the following:I DO respect the fact that she is [my stepdaughter’s] </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4431681809648689783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4431681809648689783' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4431681809648689783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4431681809648689783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/respect.html' title='Respect'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1993978890550242362</id><published>2008-02-08T20:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T20:33:53.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Connections</title><summary type='text'>I think that if it came down to it, my husband would choose my stepson over me.  Frankly, I’m not worried that this opportunity would ever come to fruition.  However, there is a special bond that fathers have with their children.  Well, good fathers have with their children.  Even reflecting upon my own father, I can truly attest to the special connection all three of my siblings, including </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1993978890550242362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1993978890550242362' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1993978890550242362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1993978890550242362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/connections.html' title='Connections'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6607904603266079602</id><published>2008-02-05T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T22:18:02.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parties and Potential Awkwardness</title><summary type='text'>Each January our good friends host a very lovely cocktail party.  They have been doing this for several years now, even before I knew my husband.  Our kind hosts invited us along with a mutual friend, who set us up.  This year, this mutual friend decided to invite the ex.  Yes, this person invited the ex.  Worse yet, she decided to attend.  The party was quite exclusive, and our hosts asked that </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6607904603266079602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6607904603266079602' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6607904603266079602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6607904603266079602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2008/02/parties-and-potential-awkwardness.html' title='Parties and Potential Awkwardness'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1976311593519077914</id><published>2007-12-26T08:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T08:30:50.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Happiness</title><summary type='text'>Christmas has literally exploded in our house leaving remnants of its wrapping paper wonder.  With just one child who lives in this house every other week, you would think that an army of children have wandered through, reeking havoc on anything and everything they can find.  Who knew that a handful of toys could spread themselves everywhere?  We did not buy as much as we have in Christmases past</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1976311593519077914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1976311593519077914' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1976311593519077914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1976311593519077914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-happiness.html' title='Christmas Happiness'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-9118015702677782688</id><published>2007-12-25T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T00:05:06.568-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Early Visit from Santa</title><summary type='text'>Santa came to our house early this year.  He always does when my stepchild is with the ex for Christmas Eve.  Santa was super nice this year and set up a fish tank with all the accoutrements in my stepchild’s bedroom.  Because the fish tank has to acclimatize and filter the water for several days before the fish can be safely added, Santa left a note with a $10 bill so that my stepchild can pick </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/9118015702677782688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=9118015702677782688' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/9118015702677782688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/9118015702677782688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/12/early-visit-from-santa.html' title='An Early Visit from Santa'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-8611457341407574617</id><published>2007-12-04T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T16:16:40.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future Neighbors</title><summary type='text'>Last week my stepchild mentioned that they are trying to talk their mom into moving into one of the new town homes being built just down the street from us.  Then they could just walk back and forth between each home.  My only response to my stepchild was, “Well, that would be handy.”  I didn’t want them to know my real thoughts on that.  I shudder to think of the ex living so close to us.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/8611457341407574617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=8611457341407574617' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8611457341407574617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/8611457341407574617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/12/future-neighbors.html' title='Future Neighbors'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1404651381442550313</id><published>2007-12-01T14:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T14:27:02.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Third Family Anniversary</title><summary type='text'>It is our third anniversary tomorrow as a family.  My husband and I were married several snowy winters ago, and that day I not only became a wife but also a stepmom.  These last few years of this new phase in my life have taught me a lot, more than I ever could have learned while getting my bachelor’s and master’s degrees.  I think the most important think I have learned is patience.  As an </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1404651381442550313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1404651381442550313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1404651381442550313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1404651381442550313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/12/third-family-anniversary.html' title='Third Family Anniversary'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4592902475979631321</id><published>2007-11-29T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T21:32:43.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Latchkey Stepchild?</title><summary type='text'>I have had the wonderful opportunity to run my own business.  It is something I have always desired to do and have done as a side job for many years now.  Since I finished my master’s degree, I have opted to do my own consulting.  As a side bonus, we no longer have to put my stepchild in extended daycare.I take my stepchild to school every morning and most afternoons.  On Mondays and Wednesdays, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4592902475979631321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4592902475979631321' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4592902475979631321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4592902475979631321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/latchkey-stepchild.html' title='Latchkey Stepchild?'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-94914438561173047</id><published>2007-11-28T10:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T10:20:18.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mining Shack</title><summary type='text'>The ex “officially” moved out of her mother’s house. Although she has been living with her boyfriend, in what my husband and I have deemed the mining shack, for the better part of the year, she moved the rest of the stuff out of her mother’s house and into a portable storage unit. She is quite a pack rat, and all of her crap that she has collected now sits in this storage pod, where we are </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/94914438561173047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=94914438561173047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/94914438561173047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/94914438561173047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/mining-shack.html' title='Mining Shack'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6342594556584916892</id><published>2007-11-25T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T19:58:40.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Stepmom Advice</title><summary type='text'>I received this comment a while ago:I am a 23-year-old female living with my 27-year-old boyfriend who has a 4 yr. old child. I never had to face something so hard in my life. I love my boyfriend and as we make plans for getting married in the future, it makes me really scared that I may become a mom overnight. I am nowhere near ready for that, and neither was my boyfriend when he was 22, but he </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6342594556584916892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6342594556584916892' title='32 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6342594556584916892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6342594556584916892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-stepmom-advice.html' title='New Stepmom Advice'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>32</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-2924099685112772482</id><published>2007-11-24T23:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T23:12:03.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Having My Own Kid</title><summary type='text'>My husband and I do not have any kids together.  In fact, my stepchild is the only child that we have.  We have had conversations every now and again on having children together.  Typically, we’ve both agreed to not have kids or not have kids for a couple years.  Well, it has been a couple years, and our feelings haven’t changed much.  Then, I started thinking…I have never been baby hungry in my </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/2924099685112772482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=2924099685112772482' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2924099685112772482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/2924099685112772482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/having-my-own-kid.html' title='Having My Own Kid'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6650644391284129190</id><published>2007-11-22T23:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T23:44:29.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Splitting the Holidays</title><summary type='text'>In the past, we have split Thanksgiving with the ex.  Each year we would take turn having my stepchild in the morning or afternoon.  This year would have been our afternoon year.  The ex proposed that we take turns having the child for the entire day.  This is one of the first times where I have agreed with her idea.  Going forward, we will have my stepchild for Thanksgiving on odd year, and the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6650644391284129190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6650644391284129190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6650644391284129190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6650644391284129190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/splitting-holidays.html' title='Splitting the Holidays'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1924022518760615598</id><published>2007-11-20T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T22:48:41.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sweetest Things</title><summary type='text'>Today is my birthday.  I am 20-something again.  It was a fun day.  My husband and stepson woke me up bearing gifts.  My stepchild had chosen out a very cute necklace; while my husband bought me the DVDs to the last season of a silly TV show that I rather enjoy.  I could tell how proud my stepchild was of their efforts, and it really is a darling necklace that I will enjoy wearing for many, many </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1924022518760615598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1924022518760615598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1924022518760615598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1924022518760615598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/sweetest-things.html' title='The Sweetest Things'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-4625589833229793932</id><published>2007-11-19T15:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T15:09:39.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Overly Upset</title><summary type='text'>The ex tends to get overly upset over issues.  We found out that my stepchild had not turned in several school assignments.  Unfortunately, my stepchild had lied and told us that they were getting their work turned in.  We asked the child to get this work in as soon as possible and made sure that the child was appropriately punished, which involved being grounded from the TV and computer/video </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/4625589833229793932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=4625589833229793932' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4625589833229793932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/4625589833229793932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/overly-upset.html' title='Overly Upset'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-1547311229947874895</id><published>2007-11-18T13:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T13:09:58.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting the Ex</title><summary type='text'>I have been horrible at maintaining this blog for the past few months, and I have resolved to post more regularly in the future.  This post is in answer to a question in one of the comments from my last post.  The comment reads:My partner's ex refuses to meet me altogether, which is really uncomfortable and hurtful...I suppose it'd make more sense if she cut all communication with him too, but </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/1547311229947874895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=1547311229947874895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1547311229947874895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/1547311229947874895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/11/meeting-ex.html' title='Meeting the Ex'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-3605743745573041556</id><published>2007-07-11T20:38:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T13:09:38.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Bent</title><summary type='text'>The soon-to-be stepbrother of my stepchild has been encouraging my stepchild to tell their father to “get bent’ (such eloquent words from an eleven year old). My husband was speaking to his child on the phone when the child said:“Cameron told me to tell you to get bent.”I was in the same room as my husband was talking to the child. He immediately informed his child that those words were not </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/3605743745573041556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=3605743745573041556' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3605743745573041556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/3605743745573041556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/07/get-bent.html' title='Get Bent'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-6119572208011802669</id><published>2007-04-12T16:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T22:05:05.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mutual Friends</title><summary type='text'>We had mutual friends with the ex-wife. Ironically, they are the ones that set me up with my husband. After the ex and my husband divorced, they tried staying friends with both the ex and my husband. However, you cannot maintain good friendships with both sides forever, especially when it comes to them. This couple has tried to get my husband and me to divulge his side of the story as to why the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/6119572208011802669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=6119572208011802669' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6119572208011802669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/6119572208011802669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/04/mutual-friends.html' title='Mutual Friends'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-453176883874232432</id><published>2007-03-07T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T17:15:08.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crochet Hooks &amp; the ER</title><summary type='text'>I received a message from the school yesterday:“This is Yvonne from the school. Your child is okay, but we need you to call us as soon as possible.”I quickly contacted the school only to find out that my stepchild had in incident with a crochet hook. They were playing around with it at school. My stepchild found a crochet hook in their school bag that they said had fallen in their while they were</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/453176883874232432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=453176883874232432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/453176883874232432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/453176883874232432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/03/crochet-hooks-er.html' title='Crochet Hooks &amp; the ER'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-102184976487206787</id><published>2007-02-26T15:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T16:32:15.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks</title><summary type='text'>She called to say “thanks.”  The ex didn’t call me, but she called my husband.  She called to my husband to say how glad she was that they could co-parent and talk things over in a reasonable manner.  She even said, dare I say, "thanks."  This is the first time my husband had said that she just called to say something nice.  I would question her motives, but it seems sincere for now. Her current </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/102184976487206787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=102184976487206787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/102184976487206787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/102184976487206787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/02/thanks.html' title='Thanks'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-117235620307890860</id><published>2007-02-24T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T15:30:03.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If They Were My Kid...</title><summary type='text'>If they were my kid, they:Wouldn't smell like they never bathed they were picked up on exchange daysWould get their homework done each week and not just every other weekWouldn't complain about chores because they don't have to do them at mommy's houseWould know that mommy and daddy love each otherWouldn't be toted from place to place while mommy has her special "sleepovers"Would have a consistent</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/117235620307890860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=117235620307890860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117235620307890860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117235620307890860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/02/if-they-were-my-kid.html' title='If They Were My Kid...'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-117125535051537381</id><published>2007-02-11T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T21:42:30.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><summary type='text'>While shopping for Valentine’s candy and cards, my stepchild told me: “Mommy says that daddy does NOT like Valentine’s Day.  As long as I have known my husband, he has enjoyed Valentine’s Day.  I love Valentine’s Day.  It is a day to tell your loved ones that you care about them. As my stepchild and loaded the cart with chocolates, flowers, and candies to be given to family and friends, I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/117125535051537381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=117125535051537381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117125535051537381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117125535051537381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-117089101300054512</id><published>2007-02-07T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T16:30:13.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepmom Stats</title><summary type='text'>Stepmoms do not fare as well as stepdads in the eyes of their young adult stepchildren, an ongoing, 20-year research project shows.Only about one-third of adult children think of their stepmothers as parents, while about half regard their stepdads as parents. About 66% feel close to stepdads, while 47% do to stepmoms.Adult Children Prefer Stepdads to Stepmoms, February 26, 2001Karen S. Peterson, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/117089101300054512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=117089101300054512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117089101300054512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117089101300054512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/02/stepmom-stats.html' title='Stepmom Stats'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-117045963365477515</id><published>2007-02-02T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T16:40:33.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cans &amp; Comforts</title><summary type='text'>It’s been over two years since we have been a family.  I knew my husband and his child a year before that.  It was so much different before we were married.  I did not have to deal with the ex very much nor was I involved in joint decision-making with the ex; although, sometimes I was the silent voice.  I still maintain my silent voice in certain respects.  I have learned what I can do and what I</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/117045963365477515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=117045963365477515' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117045963365477515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117045963365477515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/02/cans-comforts.html' title='Cans &amp; Comforts'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-117008975862043294</id><published>2007-01-29T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T15:50:37.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Sleepovers</title><summary type='text'>The ex has regular sleepovers with her boyfriend. I would not care about this; however, she drags along her child, and these sleepovers happen on weekdays, school nights nonetheless. Her personal life is her personal life, but once you have kids, things change. Single parents should consider the needs of their children before the needs of their hormones. My stepchild’s grades are starting to slip</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/117008975862043294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=117008975862043294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117008975862043294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/117008975862043294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2007/01/mommy-sleepovers.html' title='Mommy Sleepovers'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-116076453792296168</id><published>2006-10-13T12:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T12:35:37.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Family</title><summary type='text'>Last night we had a very good, honest family conversation.  My stepchild was sharing feelings on having two separate families.  The conversation began as my stepchild asked me if there were any pictures of them with their mom and dad together.  I told the child that there are, and I had put them along with their parents’ wedding photos in a special folder for them.  My stepchild was quite pleased</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/116076453792296168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=116076453792296168' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116076453792296168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116076453792296168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-family.html' title='Happy Family'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-116068130357806267</id><published>2006-10-12T13:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T13:28:23.586-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Doesn't Have the Time</title><summary type='text'>“Mommy never spends time with me anymore; the only thing we do together is watch TV,” my stepchild said to their father. I am not certain what prompted this disclosure, but I have a feeling the combination of the ex moving into her parents’ basement, changing jobs, and having a new boyfriend is part of the reason.  My husband and I discussed the idea of conveying my stepchild’s statement to his </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/116068130357806267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=116068130357806267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116068130357806267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116068130357806267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/10/mommy-doesnt-have-time.html' title='Mommy Doesn&apos;t Have the Time'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-116009069454575893</id><published>2006-10-05T17:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T17:24:54.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Higher Education</title><summary type='text'>I recently started my Master’s degree.  I come from a family that respects and encourages higher academic learning.  My husband has a BA, and I have two BS degrees.  For me college education was not an optional pursuit; it was a necessity for professional and personal success.  I have also taught at a technical two-year college for several years, so I am well acquainted with a variety of college </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/116009069454575893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=116009069454575893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116009069454575893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/116009069454575893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/10/higher-education.html' title='Higher Education'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-115385101512455553</id><published>2006-07-25T12:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:10:15.146-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sticker Charts</title><summary type='text'>The child is in a very argumentative phase now.  My husband thinks it is because the ex is quite argumentative and the child is picking this up from her.  I have observed the ex on many occasions being quite argumentative, so it is no surprise.  My husband also says that the ex’s family is quite argumentative in general.  Since the child is now living with their maternal grandparents for 50% of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/115385101512455553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=115385101512455553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115385101512455553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115385101512455553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/07/sticker-charts.html' title='Sticker Charts'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-115257134721431406</id><published>2006-07-10T16:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T16:42:27.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sea World</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild went with their maternal grandparents to San Diego.  My stepchild’s maternal aunt recently married and moved to San Diego; hence, the motivation for the trip.  I know these grandparents are not well to do; however, they had planned several fun adventures with this child.  One of which was to go to Sea World.  The week prior to flying out, the child went on and on about how excited </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/115257134721431406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=115257134721431406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115257134721431406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115257134721431406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/07/sea-world.html' title='Sea World'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-115048174172096329</id><published>2006-06-16T12:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T12:15:41.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Piano Lessons</title><summary type='text'>I've been teaching piano lessons for over 12 years now.  It's something I've always done on the side to supplement my income and keep the music bug alive.  It's also something I enjoy doing.  I have never pressured my stepchild to do it.  It's very hard to teach family members anyway, and I have tried in the past. I was very surprised a few weeks back when the child expressed interest in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/115048174172096329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=115048174172096329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115048174172096329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/115048174172096329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/06/piano-lessons.html' title='Piano Lessons'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114989082818990181</id><published>2006-06-09T16:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T16:07:08.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Daddy Says</title><summary type='text'>The child informed us that mommy says they don't have to do what daddy says. Isn't that just lovely? The ex talks about unified parenting, but then quickly begins manipulating this child. I told the child never to keep secrets from mommy or daddy, unless it's about a Christmas or birthday surprise. It's so hard to bring balance to this child's life when their mother does everything she can to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114989082818990181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114989082818990181' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114989082818990181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114989082818990181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/06/what-daddy-says.html' title='What Daddy Says'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114962311030972664</id><published>2006-06-06T13:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T13:45:10.320-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Boyfriend</title><summary type='text'>The ex has a new boyfriend.  My stepchild told us about him this weekend.  “I even saw them kissing,” the child said.  It makes me laugh to hear a child’s convey their experience of witnessing someone kiss like they has witnessed someone steal a candy bar from a grocery store.  I hope this new boyfriend will help alleviate some of her negativity toward us.  Hopefully, she’ll be so focused on this</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114962311030972664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114962311030972664' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114962311030972664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114962311030972664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/06/new-boyfriend.html' title='New Boyfriend'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114952357854277038</id><published>2006-06-05T10:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T10:06:18.560-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Da Vinci Code</title><summary type='text'>The ex took my stepchild to see “The Da Vinci Code” this past weekend. My husband and I found out after the fact. I very surprised that the ex felt it was okay to take a 7-year-old child to see a movie that contains adult themes that include self-flagellation and an orgy. Part of me wants to give her the benefit of the doubt in that she probably has not read the book. However, the logical part of</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114952357854277038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114952357854277038' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114952357854277038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114952357854277038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/06/da-vinci-code.html' title='The Da Vinci Code'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114772838523391374</id><published>2006-05-15T15:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T15:26:25.253-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Recital</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild is going to have their first drum recital this week. Unfortunately, it coincides with the volunteer work I do. However, I'm going to postpone the volunteering to attend this recital. Even though I do not want to have to "entertain" the ex-wife, I'm going. I will sit there with my husband and enjoy the performance. If the ex-wife chooses to sit by us and say something rude to the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114772838523391374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114772838523391374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114772838523391374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114772838523391374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/05/recital.html' title='Recital'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114746147353043636</id><published>2006-05-12T13:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T13:17:53.543-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild's birthday is in another month, and I am dreading it. Naturally, these feelings are kept to only my husband and me (and now this blog).  I am the type of person that loves birthdays.  I love making a big deal out of them and enjoy seeing the birthday person have fun.  However, these feelings have altered a bit with my marriage.  I want my stepchild to have a wonderful and fun </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114746147353043636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114746147353043636' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114746147353043636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114746147353043636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/05/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114705418211585179</id><published>2006-05-07T20:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T20:11:01.503-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><summary type='text'>Today was exchange day. My stepchild informed us that they need to go to the store. Their maternal grandmother had given them specific instructions to go and buy their mother earrings for Mother's Day. This grandmother also sent the child with $15. I'm not going to debate that their mother is worthy of a gift for this holiday; however, this grandmother should not be burdening us with this duty. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114705418211585179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114705418211585179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114705418211585179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114705418211585179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114616378486312764</id><published>2006-04-27T12:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T12:50:06.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Camp Part II</title><summary type='text'>The ex decided to get a different job. Who knows why the other one didn't pan out? Now that she works for a new organization, and she wants to put my stepchild at a different summer camp, which "ironically" is run by her new company. Not only is this summer camp very expensive, it would be a 40 minute commute each way. That would total over 2 hours of driving just to drop them off and pick them </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114616378486312764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114616378486312764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114616378486312764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114616378486312764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/04/summer-camp-part-ii.html' title='Summer Camp Part II'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114600036641461603</id><published>2006-04-25T15:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T15:27:29.586-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Shoes</title><summary type='text'>Apparently the child needs $40 shoes. Naturally, these shoes will become obsolete in a matter of months as the child outgrows them. I have never understood why any parent would choose expensive apparel for a child. It is foolish to pay so much money for such little utility. Yet, the ex is of the belief the her child needs lavish things, and now we owe her $20. My miserly ways are livid with this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114600036641461603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114600036641461603' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114600036641461603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114600036641461603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/04/new-shoes.html' title='New Shoes'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114365565636243669</id><published>2006-03-29T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T11:09:57.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not the Nuturing Kind</title><summary type='text'>I'm not the nuturing kind. I don't sit around and coddle children. I'm not the kind of girl that wants to hold someone's brand new baby. I don't even want to have babies of my own, and the thought of giving birth to a child scares me to death. My biological clock is not ticking. In fact, I think I may have been born without a biological clock. I don't even feel that maternal drive that every </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114365565636243669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114365565636243669' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114365565636243669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114365565636243669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/03/not-nuturing-kind.html' title='Not the Nuturing Kind'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114358446578782523</id><published>2006-03-28T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T15:21:05.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Not Your Fault</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild still deals with the trauma from their parents' divorce. Although the child was only around 3 when their parents divorced, this child still has a nagging sense that the divorce was their fault. I've been doing a lot of reading on this topic over the past few years, and I have found it is quite common for children of divorced parents to carry this burden. My mother was watching my </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114358446578782523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114358446578782523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114358446578782523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114358446578782523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-not-your-fault.html' title='It&apos;s Not Your Fault'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114349308878449178</id><published>2006-03-27T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T18:19:51.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cousin Confusion</title><summary type='text'>The other day my husband and I were tending my sister's two youngest girls. They both adore my stepchild, and unfortunately, the child was staying with their mother that day. My youngest niece was very confused why my stepchild wasn't there. I found the conversation we had to be quite amusing, so I thought I would share:For the sake of clarity, we'll refer to my stepchild as Jane.Niece #1: "</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114349308878449178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114349308878449178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114349308878449178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114349308878449178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/03/cousin-confusion.html' title='Cousin Confusion'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114167033175067790</id><published>2006-03-06T11:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T11:38:51.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Foreclosure</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild dropped a big bomb on us.  We know that the ex-wife and stepchild will be moving in with the ex's parents because she is unable to pay for her condo.  What we didn't expect is that she is choosing to go about it the worst way possible.  I asked my stepchild if his mom has put up the condo for sale.  The child thought for a second and said:"We are just moving all of our stuff out, and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114167033175067790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114167033175067790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114167033175067790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114167033175067790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/03/foreclosure.html' title='Foreclosure'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114141561435065021</id><published>2006-03-03T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T12:55:09.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enuresis</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild suffers from enuresis (bed wetting). Considering their age, gender, and genetics, it's not shocking that they wet the bed from time to time. Although it's not fun having to launder the sheets several times per week, my husband and I understand that the child does not do this on purpose, and it's really not their fault that they do.The child's mothers feels differently. The other </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114141561435065021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114141561435065021' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114141561435065021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114141561435065021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/03/enuresis.html' title='Enuresis'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-114028630911344308</id><published>2006-02-18T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T11:08:54.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Camp</title><summary type='text'>The ex-wife wants to put the child in a three week summer camp. She called my husband yesterday to discuss this option. She didn't have any idea as to the cost, curriculum, or even if the child was eligible to attend. The summer camp is part of the public school district she works for as a secretary now. Since the child attends a private school, they may not even be able to go as most summer </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/114028630911344308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=114028630911344308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114028630911344308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/114028630911344308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/summer-camp.html' title='Summer Camp'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113950372562854469</id><published>2006-02-09T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T09:48:45.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dog</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild found out that their mother is going to give their dog away.  Because their mother is moving back in with her parents, her mother asked that the dog be caged during the day.  From what I've heard this dog can get into trouble and has caused significant damage at the ex-wife's condo.  The ex-wife has chosen to just get rid of the dog.  My stepchild is heartbroken.  The child loves </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113950372562854469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113950372562854469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113950372562854469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113950372562854469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/dog.html' title='The Dog'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113911974613753456</id><published>2006-02-04T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T14:10:51.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poster</title><summary type='text'>I'm doing the "About Me" poster for the child again. Last year the ex-wife didn't do it, and we found out after returning from vacation that the child needed one (three days after it was due). I whipped one together for the child, and the child absolutely enjoyed it. I even contacted the ex-wife to get pictures from her collection, so that the child's poster would reflect their entire life and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113911974613753456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113911974613753456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113911974613753456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113911974613753456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/poster.html' title='Poster'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113898549504928726</id><published>2006-02-03T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T13:52:54.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Science Fair</title><summary type='text'>There's no Science fair this year. Since Kindergarten my stepchild has done a science fair project, and we have helped this child every year. We decided that for the 2006 science fair, the ex should take her turn. It's easies just to alternate on the big projects that require parental assistance.In December my stepchild came home and said that they doing a class science fair project, which did </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113898549504928726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113898549504928726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113898549504928726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113898549504928726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/science-fair.html' title='Science Fair'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113890619429713750</id><published>2006-02-02T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T13:56:16.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate You!</title><summary type='text'>My stepchild told their mom that they hated her on Sunday. We didn't find out until Monday as the child was talking to their mom on the cell phone as we were driving home:Child: "Mommy, are you still sad about our situation?"The Ex-Wife: *muffled response*Child: "Are you sure you aren't sad?"Out of concern my husband asked the child about the situation. He assumed that the "situation" had to do </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113890619429713750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113890619429713750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113890619429713750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113890619429713750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-hate-you.html' title='I Hate You!'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113883938526268972</id><published>2006-02-01T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T17:16:25.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Divorce Begets Divorce</title><summary type='text'>Her parents divorced when she was young.  Her father left her mother and went to roam the country.  She was left to be raised by her mother.  It must have been very hard growing up.  I feel bad for her in that respect.  Ten years later her parents remarried each other.  They are still married to this day.  That must have been so difficult for her to not have a father around as a child and then </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113883938526268972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113883938526268972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113883938526268972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113883938526268972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/02/divorce-begets-divorce.html' title='Divorce Begets Divorce'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113874792414788421</id><published>2006-01-31T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T15:54:42.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monster Truck Show</title><summary type='text'>She's taking the child to a monster truck show. She asked us in her own special way if she could take the child as the day of the truck show is during our custodial week. Although I consider this activity a completely redneck thing to do, I have no problem with the child going. I'm sure the child will have fun. It's just the way she "asks." She called up my husband and said that she wanted to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113874792414788421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113874792414788421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113874792414788421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113874792414788421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/monster-truck-show.html' title='Monster Truck Show'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113864416874227804</id><published>2006-01-30T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T11:03:53.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacations</title><summary type='text'>She gets mad when we go on vacation, and we don't vacation that often. My mother has observed her behavior and demeanor and thinks she is jealous of us for some reason that I don't know why. Maybe she is jealous because we are happy, but she chose to leave her marriage to chase her own happiness. So my initial thought cannot be the reason of her jealousy then. We didn't really have much of a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113864416874227804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113864416874227804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113864416874227804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113864416874227804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/vacations.html' title='Vacations'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113858930598789751</id><published>2006-01-29T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T19:48:29.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joint Custody</title><summary type='text'>We have joint custody.  We trade on each Sunday afternoon.  This has been going on before I even met my husband.  It’s a good arrangement; although, my husband and I would prefer that we have the child 100% of the time.  I am pretty sure the ex-wife would want the child full time as well.  For now this seems to be the best arrangement.One day my stepchild will probably grow tired of being tossed </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113858930598789751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113858930598789751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113858930598789751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113858930598789751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/joint-custody_29.html' title='Joint Custody'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113848273602365944</id><published>2006-01-28T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T14:21:35.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unruly Teenager</title><summary type='text'>I feel like I'm raising an unruly teenager, and that teenager happens to be the ex-wife. Her disposition is much like a 14-year-old trying to find herself but lashing out at everyone and anyone around her. She is moody and lashes out verbally. She thinks that she is so much smarter than us and that we must be the dumbest people on earth. She expects us to pick up the pieces of her life when she </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113848273602365944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113848273602365944' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113848273602365944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113848273602365944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/unruly-teenager_28.html' title='Unruly Teenager'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113837851935851233</id><published>2006-01-27T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T09:17:33.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taxes</title><summary type='text'>My husband brought home his W-2's the other day, and we began doing the basic prep work in getting our taxes done. While doing this I was reminded of a past frustration...She wanted him to help her with her taxes about two years ago. We had just barely started dating only a few months prior, and I was taken aback by her audacious request. He had always done the taxes during their marriage, and I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113837851935851233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113837851935851233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113837851935851233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113837851935851233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/taxes_27.html' title='Taxes'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21519935.post-113829392283492036</id><published>2006-01-26T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T10:47:30.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ambition</title><summary type='text'>All throughout their marriage she told him that he had no ambition. It was her way to break him down and get what she wanted. During their marriage she felt he should be doing more. He graduated from a university. He holds down a stable job and brings in a generous income. He is involved in several community groups and hobbies from service to sports, all of which he has served as a leader and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/feeds/113829392283492036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21519935&amp;postID=113829392283492036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113829392283492036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21519935/posts/default/113829392283492036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newwifevents.blogspot.com/2006/01/ambition.html' title='Ambition'/><author><name>The Venting One</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
