<?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-2635285159598685108</id><updated>2011-07-28T23:08:30.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mom &amp; Wife Life</title><subtitle type='html'>The chaotic life of T.J. and Kristy Wyatt with their 3 adorable "monsters".</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2635285159598685108.post-293619148042798589</id><published>2009-09-10T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T21:02:53.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Victories Today.</title><content type='html'>Well, it's almost over. I will go down in history today as "The Biggest Loser" and I don't mean that in a good way. It seemed like everything I touched today went to crap. Tyler asked me to wash his comforter today while he was at school. ( Apparently, it smells.) I told him, "Oh, no problem!" I helped out at Tyler's school today because they needed help, where I ran into David Cook's brother, who can sing. I told him about our church and how we needed a male vocalist. He politely declined as he looked at me like I was some weird Jehovah's Witness or something...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;. I came home to a messy house, which was totally expected. I cleaned it up only to find that nap time was over and within 5 minutes, the kitchen was as bad as before I started cleaning. I actually had dinner ready in time for us to be at Tyler's football game. However, the phone rang a million times, the kids were all having meltdowns and my throat hurts from barking orders at them over their crying. By the time we got in the car, I hated pretty much everyone and anyone who saw me ran the other way. We get to the game 10 minutes after we were supposed to be there, only to find that the game got postponed. Now, we are in fact, 45 minutes &lt;em&gt;early&lt;/em&gt;. I am pretty sure that smoke was coming from my ears by that point. We had an entourage at the game. Ali was going from person to person. So many grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. A little girl got hurt a ways from where we were sitting. I saw people running to her, but I couldn't see her. No one seemed to know who she was. I thought to myself, "What a bad parent, they don't even watch their kids." Yes, it was &lt;em&gt;Ali. I&lt;/em&gt; was the bad parent. I thought she was with Grandpa, I was wrong. Bath, teeth brushed and bed, but oh no! I forgot to wash the comforter, yet &lt;em&gt;another&lt;/em&gt; failure. Yes, today is almost over and the kids are asleep. This is the quietest it's been since 7:00am. Today was a lot of lost battles in my strive to be a "perfect parent", but I did have one victory...a SHOWER!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2635285159598685108-293619148042798589?l=themomwifelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/293619148042798589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-victories-today.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/293619148042798589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/293619148042798589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-victories-today.html' title='No Victories Today.'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2635285159598685108.post-7212293030814952134</id><published>2009-09-09T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T20:36:52.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting go.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;As a new parent, not long ago, I believed that I had at least 18 years with my children. It never occurred to me that I would have to deal with the agony of letting my children go before then. Boy, was I wrong! The first time I left my child with someone else, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest! I couldn't hide the tears and I called to check on him at least 100 times. I was sure that my little guy would die if he didn't have his mommy there. Someone told me, "Don't worry, it will get better with time." Again, WRONG! It was torture not watching Ali during her dance class. It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;awful&lt;/span&gt; leaving her at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-school today. She did great, it was me that had a hard time with it. The same thing with Tyler and his first day of kindergarten. He walked onto that school bus like he owned the joint. It was me that had such a difficult time watching him go. The truth is, it's healthy for kids to have these experiences. Without them, they won't make mistakes that they can learn from. It is hard to know that they are going to fall on their face from time to time. As parents, our first instinct is to save them, however, as long as it isn't harmful to their health, mistakes are how they learn right from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wrong&lt;/span&gt;. The falls they take will make them strong. The humility they will face will give them character and humbleness. All of these things are ultimately good for them, but it is hard as a parent to stand by and watch them. What are we good for? Well, we are there to clean up the boo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;boo's&lt;/span&gt;, give them a kiss and encourage them to try again, or guide them in the right way. When my kids recite scripture to me, or they talk about how Jesus died for them or when they sing a Christian song, I can't help but tear up. I know I have made several mistakes so far and I know I will make more. I also know that God has blessed me with amazing kids and blessed them with parents who love them so much! Letting go is hard, whether it is the first time you leave them as a baby, off to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;kindergarten&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;high school&lt;/span&gt;, or one day, when they fly away from "the nest." One thing I do find comfort in, the Lord loves them even more than I do. He is with them and will protect them even when I can't.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2635285159598685108-7212293030814952134?l=themomwifelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/7212293030814952134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/letting-go.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/7212293030814952134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/7212293030814952134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/letting-go.html' title='Letting go.'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2635285159598685108.post-1950380736470040656</id><published>2009-09-06T05:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T18:35:25.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Profession</title><content type='html'>Motherhood has changed me in several ways. If you ask almost any mom, she would probably tell you the same. For instance, I was completely laid back, not a care in the world. Life was about me and me alone. I was spontaneous, fun and hot. (Sorry, but I was!) Then, Ty Ty came along. Suddenly, I became very serious. This little person relied on&lt;em&gt; me!&lt;/em&gt; I have been told recently that I'm a little on the boring side now, that I take things too seriously and our schedule is out of control. Now, most people would take these as insults, not me. I take it as a compliment. You see, I grew up. My life doesn't revolve around me anymore and sometimes it is not so much fun, however, my children are very well taken care of and very happy. I love to laugh and do fun things, I just don't laugh about the things I did when I was 15 years old, thank God! I like to find the humor in my situation. You see, I have &lt;em&gt;several&lt;/em&gt; professions, yet I am the worst paid person I know. Let me explain. I am an alarm clock, a personal style consultant, a cook, a motivational speaker, a secretary, a beautician, a teeth brusher, a diaper changer, a maid, a taxi, a laundry and dishes slave, the schedule keeper, the bill payer, the &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; shopper, the cuddler, the disciplinarian, the errand runner, and much more! Needless to say, I'm a little busy. I don't mind though. When those little monsters look at me with those big blue eyes and say, "I love you, Mommy!" I feel like I have the best salary in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2635285159598685108-1950380736470040656?l=themomwifelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/1950380736470040656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-profession.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/1950380736470040656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/1950380736470040656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-profession.html' title='My Profession'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2635285159598685108.post-2337254019726974045</id><published>2009-09-05T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T18:53:27.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Dance and Tackle!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRnZI1vcDI/AAAAAAAAABU/hv5WH6PVvUE/s1600-h/Tyler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378537536554496050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRnZI1vcDI/AAAAAAAAABU/hv5WH6PVvUE/s320/Tyler.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRnNVrQDPI/AAAAAAAAABM/GzWhy7FCD7w/s1600-h/DSC01679.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378537333841726706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRnNVrQDPI/AAAAAAAAABM/GzWhy7FCD7w/s320/DSC01679.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRma0lYyTI/AAAAAAAAABE/C-9QD9ivA_w/s1600-h/DSC01683.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378536465965304114" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRma0lYyTI/AAAAAAAAABE/C-9QD9ivA_w/s320/DSC01683.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, I know how this sounds, but I assure you, this is NOT going to be a dirty blog! Sorry! (wink, wink) Tyler, my 5 year old is playing football. Football is a lot of fun...and interesting to be quite honest. You spend $150.00 to enroll the child into football only to watch them stand there in the middle of the play, or run the wrong way-priceless! They are so cute at that age. It is flag football, but some kids don't understand. For instance, Tyler was "blocking" a little guy on the other team and brought him down in a head lock. I couldn't help but laugh, it's just him. He either checks out and doesn't want to play, or he is AWESOME! When he decides to play, he does great! (He's # 9 in the picture, on the far left)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, there is Ali. My little Ali will be starting dance on Tuesday night. We got her tap shoes, ballet shoes and leotard today. She was ecstatic when I brought the goodies home. She had to try them on immediately! Adorable doesn't begin to explain how she looked. Imagine her surprise when she discovered the sound tap shoes make! She wants to wear them EVERYWHERE! She also starts "pretty school' this coming week. I am interested to see how she does. I can't believe how big these little monsters are getting! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2635285159598685108-2337254019726974045?l=themomwifelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/2337254019726974045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/lets-dance-and-tackle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/2337254019726974045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/2337254019726974045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/lets-dance-and-tackle.html' title='Let&apos;s Dance and Tackle!'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gUlftnuAsHE/SqRnZI1vcDI/AAAAAAAAABU/hv5WH6PVvUE/s72-c/Tyler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2635285159598685108.post-6709351212848858890</id><published>2009-09-01T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T13:05:39.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our New Schedule</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Early on in motherhood, we learn what a schedule is.  Usually, this lesson is learned by committing to something and not following through with it, because we forgot.  When we receive the "WHERE ARE YOU?!?" call, it hits us, "oh, I guess I better get a calendar or something."  This is just one of the many lessons we will learn through our journey as moms.  Now, I have a Palm, a dry erase calendar on my fridge, a planner on my desk and yet, I still manage to miss some things.  I was getting our calendar ready for September and I realized that almost every day is filled up.  WhAt?!  How can that be?  I'll tell you how, School, football, dance, karate, in-laws (on both sides) and church.  When will I pee?  Seriously?  This whole schedule thing is freaking me out.  I am very organized and try to have everything put together.  If only I wasn't organized.  Then, no one would expect anything of me and if we just conveniently "forgot" to show up somewhere, then people would just say, "Oh well, that's Kristy."  But it's not me, in fact I'm the opposite, volunteering to do more&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;even though I am booked up!  So, if you want to talk to me from now on, you can call but don't hold your breath for me to answer.  You can send me something in the mail, but I am terrible at mailing anything out.  E-mail, facebook or here will be where you will catch me, because at midnight when the rest of the house is sleeping and I have just finished up cleaning everyone else's mess, I will check my e-mail, facebook and the blog.  Why?  Because I'm a Mom.     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2635285159598685108-6709351212848858890?l=themomwifelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/feeds/6709351212848858890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/our-new-schedule.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/6709351212848858890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2635285159598685108/posts/default/6709351212848858890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themomwifelife.blogspot.com/2009/09/our-new-schedule.html' title='Our New Schedule'/><author><name>Kristy Wyatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09428845704537453620</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zb80c15AVXU/TYzl1fT6AXI/AAAAAAAAACA/McRqawx2aW0/s220/z.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
