<?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-5599435193448395049</id><updated>2012-01-26T13:45:43.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dominique Rose</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-3845616834343284829</id><published>2012-01-19T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T16:28:20.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Major Smiles</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;So towards the end of my pregnancy I wasn't doing much. I was so tired and so big (like the size of a whale) that all I wanted to do was sit in my house with the air conditioner on&amp;nbsp;(yes, even though it was November). Yes, I was &lt;em&gt;THAT&lt;/em&gt; fat and &lt;em&gt;THAT&lt;/em&gt; hot. I'd be like, &lt;em&gt;"I'm so sorry so and so... I can't make it today, I'm just SO tired!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to sock my formerly pregnant self in the face now. Hard. I'd smack&amp;nbsp;that girl so hard if I could.&amp;nbsp; These days I look at Chance and say,&lt;em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;"WHAT DID WE DO WITH ALL OUR TIME BEFORE WE HAD THIS KID?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I thought when the pregnancy was over, the fatigue would be over, the backache would be over and the sleep would be sound. WOW. Did I NOT&amp;nbsp;understand that a HUMAN was going to come out of me and demand my every second? I guess I really didn't think about what happens at the end of pregnancy... you get a baby! And then the real fatigue, the real aches and the real sleepless nights begin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a run down of my last&amp;nbsp;6 weeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up- but wake up from not sleeping.&amp;nbsp;This just simply means actually getting out of bed, because let's be serious- I was awake all night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feed him. From my boob... that's still so weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's happy. Put him in the bouncer so I can make an egg and toast... he starts to fuss. Pick him up, walk around until he's happy.. put him back in the bouncer. Finish cooking the already burnt egg. Grab a plate and sit down. I reach for the fork to eat... Major cries. He's bored. He's sick of looking at those stupid toys hanging from his bouncer. He's like, "What the heck, mom?! Just because I'm a baby doesn't mean I want to look at this stupid thing for longer than 3 minutes... don't you see it's a&amp;nbsp;dumb turtle? What else is there to figure out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take him out noting his intelligence. It's ok, Major. You are smart and stuff is boring. I feel bad for you so let's hang out. I try to juggle him while I attempt to eat my egg. It doesn't happen. He gets angry I'm not walking around.&amp;nbsp;So I get up and walk... it&amp;nbsp;finally calms him down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He cries two minutes later and my egg is cold. He's hungry. I'm hungry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fine! I say to him... you can eat first! I lift my shirt and he gasps and gasps until he's getting that sweet boob juice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally eat my egg, while ironically feeding my baby at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My day continues as chaotic as it started. I rush to the bathroom, fold the laundry, pick up the house in a hurried fashion all as Major sleeps. I'm racing the clock and counting the baby's "ZZZ" just to be sure of how much time I have left. I usually get to the bathroom and half way through the laundry before he wakes up again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at the clock and it's already 5pm. I've accomplished nothing today. Nothing. But he's smiling now and today seems to be juuuuust fine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACF4qk8eKVU/TxiyG-qKCPI/AAAAAAAAAMY/PbMIw75caLs/s1600/majsmiles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" nfa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACF4qk8eKVU/TxiyG-qKCPI/AAAAAAAAAMY/PbMIw75caLs/s640/majsmiles.JPG" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-3845616834343284829?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/3845616834343284829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=3845616834343284829' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/3845616834343284829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/3845616834343284829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2012/01/major-smiles.html' title='Major Smiles'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ACF4qk8eKVU/TxiyG-qKCPI/AAAAAAAAAMY/PbMIw75caLs/s72-c/majsmiles.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-6396271072753836648</id><published>2012-01-07T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T11:14:46.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hooked</title><content type='html'>He's here. I can't believe that a baby, a human, GREW inside of me. Like a plant...&amp;nbsp;like a&amp;nbsp;little seed. It's wild. It's the craziest thing I've ever, ever, ever experienced.&amp;nbsp;I don't mean pregnancy and I don't mean birth... I mean a human is now living with me and&amp;nbsp;eating from my boob 24/7 and&amp;nbsp;I GREW that thing. The reality of this miracle is crazy. How can people not believe in something bigger than themselves when this crazy thing happens to them?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been transformed. And I never, ever, &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; thought I would be that person. My pregnancy was ok... I mean, I wasn't super sick&amp;nbsp;and I didn't suffer from &lt;em&gt;too &lt;/em&gt;many uncomfortable side effects. But for some reason, I wasn't very happy. My pregnancy wasn't exactly a planned one so it was hard for me to handle and I felt guilty for not being "excited." People would ask how I felt and my response was usually "eh... I'm ok, I guess." I'd cry to Chance at night&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;told him&amp;nbsp;I feared being a bad mom because surely no DECENT mom would be so selfish. I watched my body change &lt;em&gt;(with a little&amp;nbsp;TOO much help&amp;nbsp;from&amp;nbsp;me... I love my fries!)&lt;/em&gt;, I watched my "plans" slow down and my near future take a drastic turn. I told myself, the only way I'll like this baby is if it's a girl and if it sleeps at night. I'd tell Chance, "I can't picture myself with a boy for some reason." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found out it had a penis. And I was shocked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say, "I know it's horrible, but I just don't know if I'll be able to do this... I'm not ready, and I don't feel connected to him at all"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never bonded with Major while he was inside my stomach, but I never resented him either.&amp;nbsp; Instead,&amp;nbsp;I felt sorry for myself as I gripped tight to my last parentless months. I felt that way my entire pregnancy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he came. He was and is so precious. This infant was&amp;nbsp;here and just wanted to be close to me. He needed me to survive. I was hooked. Obsessed to say the least. My birth didn't go as hoped (more on that later) and my body is still a reck (I'll talk about this, too)... but my precious, precious boy brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart sing. I love his toes, I love his smell, I love holding him and helping him. Everything about him is my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know. I don't know if it's divine intervetion, or just a natural motherly love, but something is different. You know it's weird, too, because I still can sit here and tell you that I STILL want to follow my dreams, and I STILL have big plans for my life. I don't want to just&amp;nbsp;be a mom, or have my children be my life &lt;em&gt;(not that there's ANYTHING wrong with that- it's a huge honor and responsibility we have!)&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp;In fact,&amp;nbsp;I've already enojyed the few freedoms I've been given to leave the house, and I'll&amp;nbsp;probably still post millions of pictures of my cat,&amp;nbsp;but something is definitely&amp;nbsp;different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my fellow mothers... what do you think it is that changes us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Major, now that you are here...&amp;nbsp;Mommy can't&amp;nbsp;picture life without you.&amp;nbsp;I love you, I love you, I love you forever. You are 4 weeks old and have already made my life so rich. And I'm happy to say,&amp;nbsp;I will never, ever, &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;be the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--1HuW2XlCnc/Tws8hAGoxSI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/1PAkYBOac1g/s1600/major.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="425" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--1HuW2XlCnc/Tws8hAGoxSI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/1PAkYBOac1g/s640/major.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-6396271072753836648?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/6396271072753836648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=6396271072753836648' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/6396271072753836648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/6396271072753836648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2012/01/hooked.html' title='Hooked'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--1HuW2XlCnc/Tws8hAGoxSI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/1PAkYBOac1g/s72-c/major.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-2781328593541868438</id><published>2011-12-06T23:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T12:24:00.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored</title><content type='html'>Freakin' Pinterest. I love it. And it's really helped me remain distracted the last few days. I made those 3 wreaths in the picture below and they were SUPER easy and CHEAP. I love all the ideas you can find on that site! The last few days I haven't been doing much, just sitting at home doing little crafts and things... hoping this baby comes soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LFWg2F4zddw/Tt8YMfmZFcI/AAAAAAAAALU/tuR139leGNI/s1600/craft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" mda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LFWg2F4zddw/Tt8YMfmZFcI/AAAAAAAAALU/tuR139leGNI/s640/craft.JPG" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I LOVE card making. Love it... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FprWW71ORAE/Tt8YUdp9eeI/AAAAAAAAALc/_ns2Ybu1KKE/s1600/craft1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" mda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FprWW71ORAE/Tt8YUdp9eeI/AAAAAAAAALc/_ns2Ybu1KKE/s640/craft1.JPG" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;One of my paintings... Acrylic on Canvas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KtiJfTBbePA/Tt8YyIrDK0I/AAAAAAAAAL8/TPPYXjlSiLE/s1600/craft5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="474" mda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KtiJfTBbePA/Tt8YyIrDK0I/AAAAAAAAAL8/TPPYXjlSiLE/s640/craft5.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Another Acrylic on Canvas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dJHzVXkjs0o/Tt8Ymw3cIEI/AAAAAAAAALs/Ir8YFl2mzlw/s1600/craft3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" mda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dJHzVXkjs0o/Tt8Ymw3cIEI/AAAAAAAAALs/Ir8YFl2mzlw/s640/craft3.JPG" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I've always painted with my husband, but&amp;nbsp;have never&amp;nbsp;really shown any of my&amp;nbsp;pieces. I wouldn't call myself an artist in the painting sense&amp;nbsp;at all...&amp;nbsp;although I do have a few really fun ideas I'm hopefully going to try after I get settled with the babe. It'll be something I've never tried before so I'm excited to see how they turn out. I'm pretty bored out of my mind these days, but I'm trying to soak it up because I know the days of boredom will soon be behind me. Send good vibes my way!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;lt;3 Dom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-2781328593541868438?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/2781328593541868438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=2781328593541868438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/2781328593541868438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/2781328593541868438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2011/12/bored.html' title='Bored'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LFWg2F4zddw/Tt8YMfmZFcI/AAAAAAAAALU/tuR139leGNI/s72-c/craft.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-1428037219951702256</id><published>2011-11-30T10:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T00:21:32.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Label, New Hair Style</title><content type='html'>Yesterday&amp;nbsp;was my son's due date.&amp;nbsp;Do you know how freaky that is? Well, I guess if you've been pregnant and have had babies, then you already&amp;nbsp;know. And if you don't have kids... well I'm telling you... it's pretty wild, man.&amp;nbsp; People keep asking me if I'm ready. What does that mean? Am I ready to get him out? Am I ready to meet him? Am I ready for labor? What does "Are you ready" mean exactly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand when women say they are ready for labor. Because to me it sounds like this, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yes I am ready to be completely surprised by this thing that has been growing in my body. I am so excited to be caught off guard with pain and grossness. I can't wait to be sitting around doing my normal day to day activities and then randomly start to experience the excruciating pain of&amp;nbsp;an 8 pound human&amp;nbsp;cramming it's way out of my vagina."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being pregnant has been so interesting. It's basically a 9 month count down of "oh my gosh, this is happening. It's coming and it's gonna hurt." It's almost like KNOWING and ANTICIPATING that some stranger will come into your house and stab you repeatedly for hours. Or beat you repeatedly for hours... really whatever the worse one is, they'll do to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guys, someone will be in my house using it's power to make me feel like I'M DYING!!!!!!!!!!! Yet no one is concerned. This is weird. How is it that it's something that women around the world&amp;nbsp;experience everyday and we act like they're basically NOT almost being murdered. I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to take my mind off of the uncertainties of labor and delivery&amp;nbsp;so&amp;nbsp;Chance and I have taken this last week to&amp;nbsp;reminisce. You know, about the "good ol' days." We looked at a lot of old pictures (DEPRESSING)! Don't do that when you're 9 months pregnant... just don't. I kept saying, "Did I really used to look like that?! Did my legs really not rub together down to my knees? Did I really wear jeans that small?" Oh god, the jeans. That was the worst part. When you're skinny... everything looks good on you, and when you're not... well. Let's just stop there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also had many hairstyles that I don't even remember having. Short, long, black, blonde... striped, red, bangs-- you name it, I had it. But ever since I got knocked up my hair has been the same and pretty boring. Side note: Which look should I go back to post babe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I've had my hair for awhile now, all natural and long... (picture taken about a month before I got pregs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--t7_79MV4Xo/Tt7KY36dk3I/AAAAAAAAAIU/I6zgNzGEGGk/s1600/reg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--t7_79MV4Xo/Tt7KY36dk3I/AAAAAAAAAIU/I6zgNzGEGGk/s640/reg.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here's me rocking the swoop bang...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_fk2eIXNjr4/Tt7NhrEkKwI/AAAAAAAAAK0/zoFA-R5td_4/s1600/swoop+bang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_fk2eIXNjr4/Tt7NhrEkKwI/AAAAAAAAAK0/zoFA-R5td_4/s640/swoop+bang.jpg" width="427" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And Blonde...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DO66_tKTe-s/Tt7KmUOEagI/AAAAAAAAAIc/CH0t1ZAbcLo/s1600/blonde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="427" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DO66_tKTe-s/Tt7KmUOEagI/AAAAAAAAAIc/CH0t1ZAbcLo/s640/blonde.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Dark Dark Dark Brown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p2PRciZ0Osw/Tt7MTYGt3bI/AAAAAAAAAJk/z0AUBTdp3Ho/s1600/dorothy%252Cdom+hair.rebecca+038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p2PRciZ0Osw/Tt7MTYGt3bI/AAAAAAAAAJk/z0AUBTdp3Ho/s640/dorothy%252Cdom+hair.rebecca+038.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Red with Blonde Chunks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0u4g3u3MKTg/Tt7LXXKCtmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/hMH-n2mYq5g/s1600/ascd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0u4g3u3MKTg/Tt7LXXKCtmI/AAAAAAAAAIs/hMH-n2mYq5g/s640/ascd.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Dark Red &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tILw8OIGL_M/Tt7LZta7KTI/AAAAAAAAAI8/1n1JzzGPRM4/s1600/dark+red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tILw8OIGL_M/Tt7LZta7KTI/AAAAAAAAAI8/1n1JzzGPRM4/s640/dark+red.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Long and Funky&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P57-u5DJSL4/Tt7NbwZ-U-I/AAAAAAAAAKk/09AXNVgfRWg/s1600/Nov+11+06+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P57-u5DJSL4/Tt7NbwZ-U-I/AAAAAAAAAKk/09AXNVgfRWg/s640/Nov+11+06+034.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Straight Bangs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jb1ppuTTbK8/Tt7LYXg4HWI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Sby9KqautNs/s1600/bangs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jb1ppuTTbK8/Tt7LYXg4HWI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Sby9KqautNs/s640/bangs.jpg" width="428" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Short A-Line&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt7qzyBSvkI/Tt7MkKwv9RI/AAAAAAAAAJs/CVYfs9EK0fo/s1600/dorothy%252Cdom+hair.rebecca+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt7qzyBSvkI/Tt7MkKwv9RI/AAAAAAAAAJs/CVYfs9EK0fo/s640/dorothy%252Cdom+hair.rebecca+074.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Short Again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dsC9sgEn7Tk/Tt7NFYPjbyI/AAAAAAAAAKM/EHWpvgVKwTo/s1600/IMGP2478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="428" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dsC9sgEn7Tk/Tt7NFYPjbyI/AAAAAAAAAKM/EHWpvgVKwTo/s640/IMGP2478.JPG" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Soft Red Medium...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vd2dJ_qQD98/Tt7Qkl1zyOI/AAAAAAAAALE/rzy0GCDvLYQ/s1600/red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vd2dJ_qQD98/Tt7Qkl1zyOI/AAAAAAAAALE/rzy0GCDvLYQ/s640/red.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Annnnnd Now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E1L6OWBTWo4/Tt7V_rIu3eI/AAAAAAAAALM/BI6FRf7q76c/s1600/preg+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E1L6OWBTWo4/Tt7V_rIu3eI/AAAAAAAAALM/BI6FRf7q76c/s640/preg+hair.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm realizing as this baby is&amp;nbsp;getting closer and closer to being&amp;nbsp;born,&amp;nbsp;I will now be something else. I will be a mom. That holds a lot of weight. I've labeled myself many other things before... but never a mom. Because I wasn't a mom. But now I'm going to be.. and that's just strange. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with the excitement of getting this Major man out of my belly I'm also really motivated to shed the pounds and get&amp;nbsp;myself fit again, but man has food been delicious (as I'm sure you can tell if you've seen my recently). We'll see how this goes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-1428037219951702256?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/1428037219951702256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=1428037219951702256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/1428037219951702256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/1428037219951702256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-label-new-hair-style.html' title='New Label, New Hair Style'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--t7_79MV4Xo/Tt7KY36dk3I/AAAAAAAAAIU/I6zgNzGEGGk/s72-c/reg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-689581103576887101</id><published>2011-11-14T10:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T10:55:07.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paradise</title><content type='html'>As I near this whole motherhood thing... this song seems strangely fitting. You see, I didn't really expect to get pregnant at this time in my life. I don't mean that I didn't want to get pregnant at 26, I mean I just thought when I DID get pregnant it would make more sense. I thought I would be more established, or more “ready” --if there even is such a thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually dig Coldplay songs, but this song just really struck a chord with me. Is it hormones? Maybe... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When she was just a girl&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She expected the world&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But it flew away from her reach&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So she ran away in her sleep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dreamed of para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every time she closed her eyes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When she was just a girl&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She expected the world&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But it flew away from her reach&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the bullets catch in her teeth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life goes on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It gets so heavy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The wheel breaks the butterfly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every tear, a waterfall&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the night, the stormy night&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She closed her eyes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the night, the stormy night&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Away she flied&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And dreamed of para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She dreamed of para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;La la la La&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;La la la&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So lying underneath those stormy skies.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She said oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know the sun must set to rise.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Could be para- para- paradise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3 Dominique &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-689581103576887101?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/689581103576887101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=689581103576887101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/689581103576887101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/689581103576887101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2011/11/paradise.html' title='Paradise'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599435193448395049.post-5109400683896535089</id><published>2011-11-07T17:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T22:47:01.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in Business</title><content type='html'>This blog is BACK! I can't believe I'm blogging again... I &lt;em&gt;DID&lt;/em&gt; miss it, but I think it was good for me to take that year off to figure things out on my own instead of sharing every little thought of mine with the&amp;nbsp;world. You might notice that all my previous posts are gone. I've made them private for my own little online journal collection. Reading them was kinda like finding my junior high journal and being all super embarrassed at some of the things I wrote about&amp;nbsp;since I was overly emotional and lonely.&amp;nbsp; Yea that's right... that's how it was, only it wasn't my junior high diary... it was this blog I started 4 years ago so I can't blame my stupidity on that "awkward" stage in life... I can only blame it on, actually nothing.&amp;nbsp; I might have some fun with it and bring some of my "creative writing" posts back for some blast from the blog past... but we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That all being said... &lt;i&gt;I'm back&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;! And I can't wait to see what happens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh won't you be my neighbor? (Like in a&amp;nbsp;'read-my-blog' way... not like in&amp;nbsp;a creepy way... unless that works for you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3 Dominique&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5599435193448395049-5109400683896535089?l=dominiquerose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/feeds/5109400683896535089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5599435193448395049&amp;postID=5109400683896535089' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/5109400683896535089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5599435193448395049/posts/default/5109400683896535089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dominiquerose.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-blog-is-back-i-cant-believe-im.html' title='Back in Business'/><author><name>Dominique James</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07535975338754867366</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uEVwPK9Iwn0/S30FT82V0SI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hpTN7hZYCy8/S220/Dom_3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
