<?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-5418587197357978309</id><updated>2011-11-14T14:01:57.460-08:00</updated><category term='Firsts'/><category term='small joys'/><category term='baby'/><title type='text'>Dina Beebleberry</title><subtitle type='html'>Just trying to remember my son's childhood in a way that will tell him something about who his parents were.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418587197357978309.post-6226183499927055295</id><published>2011-11-14T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T14:01:57.489-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ARGH!</title><content type='html'>Oh Kid how you are pushing our buttons. We sailed through year two and crashed into year three. Now there is so much more resistance from you, so much more arguing and stubbornness. I know it is part of the process but I must say there are days I wish the compliance would return. You are pretty sharp, I think you will soon figure out there is an easy way and a hard way and choose the former. You hate time out and no doubt respond better to positive reinforcement but sometimes leave us no choice but to punish you. Yesterday you sat for a half an hour at the table refusing to take two bites of Cauliflower.  We had to go somewhere but when we came back I warmed them up and you ate those two bites. My will is stronger than yours my boy and that will make all the difference in the end. I love you until the end of days but you are going to listen to your Mom. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-6226183499927055295?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/6226183499927055295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/11/argh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/6226183499927055295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/6226183499927055295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/11/argh.html' title='ARGH!'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-8151545837172263412</id><published>2011-11-14T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T13:55:57.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom's Life List Part 2</title><content type='html'>Buy a Timbuk 2 bag&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Buy a pair knee high kitten heeled boots&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go to Japan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go someplace in Alaska or BC you can only get to by airplane or helicopter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eat baby squid at the Terried Sake House again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-8151545837172263412?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/8151545837172263412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/11/moms-life-list-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8151545837172263412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8151545837172263412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/11/moms-life-list-part-2.html' title='Mom&apos;s Life List Part 2'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-8873445629759611844</id><published>2011-05-18T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T14:37:35.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's like this</title><content type='html'>Son,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't tell you what this last 6 months has been like for your father and I. It's the kind of financial anxiety I hope you will always be spared. But since your father started his new job last month it's like the sunshine breaking through the clouds. The heavy mood has lifted for us and though it never impacted the fun we all had together, it allows us greater joy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have grown, like someone stretched you on a rack. You are thinning and lengthening and turning into such a kid. All scraped elbows and bruised knees. You can get your bike going from a complete stop and have such an innate physical ability.  It's remarkable to watch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are healthy and happy, unless you are tired. Then it's grumpy pants galore. You are addicted to chocolate and struggle to understand why we don't start our day with treats. You would rather make music than listen to it. You are imaginative and goofy. In other words, a total delight. This weekend your cousin was visiting and you were so happy and such a good little host. Sharing and trying to show him everything. We watch "chuggas" and Bob the Builder. You are STILL crazy about John Deere. You always want to go straight- which is through downtown on the way home. I have been walking over and taking you on the shuttle bus with me which is a treat for everyone. No one can help but smile at the joy you have in something we take for granted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nana has gone home for the time being and this has been a little difficult. You miss her and the adventures you had at "Nana School" during the week. Though soon your brother will be here for the summer and a whole new set of adventures will begin! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dearest, we love you so much. Everything about you. They way you like to sleep with blankets on your head. How you flip thorough catalogs while sitting on the potty. How you help daddy mow the grass. The way you think everything is silly. Even in the midst of all our strife, we laughed with you and loved you even more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-8873445629759611844?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/8873445629759611844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-like-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8873445629759611844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8873445629759611844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-like-this.html' title='It&apos;s like this'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-8677974319460595343</id><published>2010-11-12T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T13:43:41.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind</title><content type='html'>I seem to have fallen significantly behind here and there isn't much I can say for myself.  Your father and I are having one of the most stressful times of our lives right now and in that case we both withdraw a bit. You on the other hand are blossoming with knowledge, imagination, personality and cheer. It's joy to be around you.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is so much to say, I am going to try to break it down month by month:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aug: We said goodbye to your beloved brother after a trip to Kentucky to Tootsie's House. You and Brother and Grandma hit the fountains at the courthouse much to your delight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sept: The highlight was your birthday! We had a John Deere extravaganza. Party Hats, chocolate candy tractors on green frosted cupcakes, and a John Deere tractor cake put together by me and Nana. We had the party at Grandma's porch. Your cousins helped with opening presents and you all had a great time pushing around trucks and devouring cake. You loved your ukulele. Nana bought you a Thomas set, only fueling your addiction to what you call chug a choos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oct: Nana moved to Nashville and you have been having a fab time with her. She has been keeping you home a day or two a week. You are killing us with the why, who is that, where did that come from, what's that, what's in the store...etc. Non-stop questions! You jump, you pedal, you gallop. You wake up and sing to yourself peacefully for nearly a half and hour. I love listening to you. We had several family events at the barn with big bonfires and you played ring around the rosy in the dark with all the other kids. You climbed on hay bales and chatted up strangers. Nana and I took you to a pumpkin patch farm and it took you a bit but you finally fed a goat. It would have been cheaper though if we had just stayed home and let you climb on the riding lawn mower cause that was your favorite part. You also wanted to know where the lions where. Maybe time for another trip to the zoo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nov: You are starting to memorize books and rhymes and songs. You have picked up crazy phrases from day care such as My bad, and No Deal. You are starting to color more and your imaginative play has exploded. We have great conversations in the car in the morning and evenings. You have turned into a chocolate junkie and you are crazy about watermelon and raisins just at the moment. This weekend you have a birthday party and a trip to see the trains at the Science Center. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know you won't remember any of this but it brings us so much happiness to experience the novelty of the beautiful world through you. You are happy healthy and wonderful. I am proud but mostly I just feel lucky for the blessing that is you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-8677974319460595343?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/8677974319460595343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/11/behind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8677974319460595343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8677974319460595343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/11/behind.html' title='Behind'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-9011996371400242966</id><published>2010-07-22T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T07:58:53.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I did it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My Dear Boy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You have been so much fun summer. You are now speaking in full sentences about 90% of the time. "I don't want to ride that city bus", you informed me last night. It's like someone put your speech development on warp speed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You are proud of yourself when you do something, even something small, announcing, "I did it." I hope that stay with you for the rest of your days because there are few things more valuable than your confidence.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Big Brother is here for the summer and sadly is leaving next week. You stood at the door and cried for him when he went to camp in the morning. You love watching TV with him or anything with him. It's so sweet. You've picked up some phrases from him. Nu-unh, and No, I'm fine right now. In fact you have really been into the whole family lately. Spending time with Grandma and Grandpa, talking to Nana on the phone, and really not wanting me to leave you at school in the morning. We are having quite a good time playing together and you don't the fun to stop. Can't say I blame you, hard for me too kiddo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As for your father and I, I think we will remember this year in particular. It's been a bit hard on us so far but still time for things to turn around. You and your brother have been a bright spot in our lives this summer. It's special when we are all together and there is nothing that makes you happier. We make not always know what is going on in that head of yours but in this case, we know just how you feel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-9011996371400242966?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/9011996371400242966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-did-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/9011996371400242966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/9011996371400242966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-did-it.html' title='I did it!'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-5097157848268327518</id><published>2010-06-01T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T11:24:15.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch</title><content type='html'>Two trips to the ER in around two months, that's how it's been with  you lately. First, you took a headlong plunge into the edge of a chair rail to the tune of three stitches in your eyebrow. Second you took a standard walk on the sidewalk and turned into a week of a cast and not two weeks of an immobilization brace. And it's my fault. Because my dear, Mommy is clumsy. I'm sorry. I have cursed you it seems with both my addiction to chocolate and my pitiful sense of balance. Now that you have proved yourself to be a defective Weeble,  I have to keep a closer eye on you. Especially since you always want to try things that are just a tiny bit out of your reach. You want to go the big playground, you want to climb the curved ladder, go go go. "Outside, Outside a minute" was your mantra. You have slowed down a bit in the days since you got the brace but it won't last long I am sure. I don't want to hold you back, I want you try, and I want you to fail. We all have to learn how to get back up. But I promise, I'm going to do better keeping up with you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-5097157848268327518?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/5097157848268327518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/06/ouch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/5097157848268327518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/5097157848268327518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/06/ouch.html' title='Ouch'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-2876702351431040427</id><published>2010-03-25T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T14:05:54.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Climb!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Climb" you say as you haul yourself up the little "rock" wall.  Yesterday was your first attempt and it was awesome. You pulled yourself up with determination even after you fell. That's you my boy, determined, undeterred from your chosen course of action.  It's good to know that you will just keep climbing, that aspect of your personality is already abundantly clear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You are also a ridiculous amount of fun and as your father said last night a "gigglepotamous".  As we sat looking at a lizard in one of your mountain of books, I ran my fingertips over your belly.  "Pitter-patter, pitter-pater", and you LAUGHED, head thrown back, squirming as I tickled you.  It was a delight. You had your first baby sitter this month, who wasn't family that is, and she was astounded by you.  She remarked she had never seen a child so into books. And it's true. I can lure you away from almost anything with a book, or the promise of reading. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In stereotypical Toddler style you like to have things a certain way. You'll come to us with some tiny scrap of paper or a piece of onion skin and say "Mess." If you don't want to eat something you tell me, "Dirty, Sink." Of course this love of order in no manner applies to toys, which you clearly feel belong strewn all around the play area. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We did a lot of entertaining and going out this month and one night stands out. We took you to a dinner party, where there was a 5 year old. One who thought making you laugh was a great trick. You climbed on his mini picnic table and jumped off, put buckets on each other's head, chased and jumped on the dog beg. I just let you run, and you had the time of your life. It was awesome and I was glad to give you the opportunity. Because sweet boy, that's what you are giving us, the time of our lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-2876702351431040427?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/2876702351431040427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/03/climb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2876702351431040427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2876702351431040427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/03/climb.html' title='Climb!'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-8705383912223352316</id><published>2010-02-25T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T13:49:59.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>EEK!</title><content type='html'>It's almost the end of February and I haven't written anything! Nana and your brother have been here much to your delight. We have been to parties and the Zoo. Tiger- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;GRRR&lt;/span&gt;, Lion &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ROOOar&lt;/span&gt;.  You have been wonderful, practicing your jumping, adding many new words to your vocabulary and squealing at the moon. For some reason you are captivated with tractors and are insisting we look through your tractor calendar sometimes 3 or 4 times in a row. I have now completely run out of ways to make that a learning opportunity. You are starting be able to pick out the color blue. You are crazy about books. I lured you away from the slide today with a book. Clearly, you are your parents child. Your speech is frankly incredible and your teacher can't believe you are the youngest in your class. They tell me everyone loves you there and I think there is one primary reason. I think you are the only kid your age that says Thank you (Dank &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ou&lt;/span&gt;) and it enough to melt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;any one's&lt;/span&gt; heart. I hope that when you are older you will remember that gratitude will take you a long way with people. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a hard month though as it is the anniversary of my father's death. It has been three years and while it is starting to feel normal that he is gone, it is still awful. He would have been thrilled about you. He was an outdoors man through and through, he would have taught you things about the natural world that I never could. All your calls of "Outside, Outside" would have been rapidly answered. He would have been there for you 100% just like he was for me. I know you would have changed his life for the better, you certainly have mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-8705383912223352316?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/8705383912223352316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/02/eek.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8705383912223352316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/8705383912223352316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/02/eek.html' title='EEK!'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-7847384782063618048</id><published>2010-01-18T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T15:01:47.517-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I scream, You scream, We all scream in the bathtub!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We play this little game that involves screaming at the same time.  If you start and I don't play along you will pause and remind me, Ma, Ma.For some reason we only do this in the bathtub. Superior acoustics I can only assume. I can see that the days of this game are waning so I felt like I needed to document it. One of our many little things that make every day so special that in time neither of us will recall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-7847384782063618048?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/7847384782063618048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-scream-you-scream-we-all-scream-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/7847384782063618048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/7847384782063618048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-scream-you-scream-we-all-scream-in.html' title='I scream, You scream, We all scream in the bathtub!'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-7960965673756782269</id><published>2009-12-17T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:38:37.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Talkies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I was pregnant with you, your brother Ian repeatedly said he hoped you were a talker, just like him. Looks like he got his wish. Your speech development took a giant leap forward in the last two-three months. At Thanksgiving, you had more than 20 words in your vocabulary. Since then you have learned a few new words a week and I have started to lose count. It makes it easy to communicate with you for the most part for which I am grateful. Here is just a sample of your lexicon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cuck=Truck &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can not stress how many times a day you say this. All the way to day care in the morning. Every tiny glimpse of a truck on the street. The sight of your truck book, it all sets you off. Also all things that move and aren't a car are trucks. Including airplanes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Duck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Mama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Dada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Uh-Oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Butt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bowl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Buud=Bird&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cucker=Cracker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bahuhl= Bottle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hockpus=Octopus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bopper=Diaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Nana= For Nana and Banana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Mo=More&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is one of your favorite words and has an accompanying hand wave. Everything is Hot, even if it's not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;Down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Baa=Ball&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You try to say almost anything. This morning you said Oatmeal. You are surprising your teacher with the clarity of your speech. It's one of my favorite things to listen to you chatter to yourself in the morning. Can't wait to hear wait is to come from our little talker. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-7960965673756782269?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/7960965673756782269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/12/talkies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/7960965673756782269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/7960965673756782269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/12/talkies.html' title='Talkies'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-2543927577572285732</id><published>2009-11-04T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T14:47:21.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Heart New York</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Last week I went to New York for work. I lived there four years, before you were born, the last year of it with your father. It was a long road to get there but me and your Dad love the City. Hate the subway at rush hour, but love the City. I missed you terribly but it was great to get back in touch with my friends and I had some tremendous meals. I can't wait introduce you to New York. The sidewalk is really the best place to see it. But no matter what you do you only get a glimse. You never see the whole picture and it's changing on you all time. There are little details of life, craftmanship, hardship, joy, relentless life on every street. It's thrilling, captivating, aggravating. Some part of me will always call it home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-2543927577572285732?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/2543927577572285732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-heart-new-york.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2543927577572285732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2543927577572285732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-heart-new-york.html' title='I Heart New York'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-2351681845614400916</id><published>2009-11-04T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T14:37:32.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that are still fun no matter how old you are..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Walking through dry fall leaves...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-2351681845614400916?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/2351681845614400916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-that-are-still-fun-no-matter-how.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2351681845614400916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2351681845614400916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-that-are-still-fun-no-matter-how.html' title='Things that are still fun no matter how old you are..'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-224322050641155072</id><published>2009-10-02T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T14:48:10.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Start</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;After some thought I am re-directing this blog. It is still one to preserve memories, but now posts will be addressed essentially to my son. My favorite part of my grandmother's journal is how much is teaches me about her, and that is what I want for him. Here goes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My Boy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;What a couple weeks we have had. Your father and I had a great trip to Germany while you bonded with Nana. But then things got a little crazy. We transitioned you to a toddler room and it was too soon. You and I both have paid for that and I am not sure who has cried more. But we will get there and it will be fine. Just a few too many changes too soon. Your first birthday party was a family filled breakfast feast that involved me cooking for four and a half hours and a run to the store for more eggs. Oh but did you have fun. You just played, squealed and threw things around and generally had a great time. Then we spent some time with your godparents, with whom you have always had a special bond. Since we got back you have been a little more clingy than usual but that will change (I hope!). Yesterday, you started stacking blocks and not just knocking them down and I was so proud. This morning I spent some time with you in your classroom that you would feel more safe and I think it helped. Only time will tell me all the mistakes I am making now, but know this, I am doing the best I can and with all the love in my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-224322050641155072?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/224322050641155072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-start.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/224322050641155072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/224322050641155072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-start.html' title='New Start'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-6557793452480598895</id><published>2009-08-31T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T09:48:35.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life List Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Inspired by Maggie Mason over at Mighty Girl, I have started my life list. &lt;/span&gt;Since these are in no particular order I am not going to number them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay in a yurt&lt;br /&gt;Become an accessories person&lt;br /&gt;African Photo Safari&lt;br /&gt;Teach Spencer how to eat sushi&lt;br /&gt;Incorporate exercise into my daily life&lt;br /&gt;Go to King's Canyon and Joshua Tree Parks&lt;br /&gt;See the redwoods&lt;br /&gt;Start a Scholarship that will fund at least one student a year&lt;br /&gt;Promote Heart Health for Women&lt;br /&gt;Learn that is okay to take a break&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-6557793452480598895?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/6557793452480598895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-list-part-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/6557793452480598895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/6557793452480598895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-list-part-1.html' title='Life List Part 1'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-2723216456633327195</id><published>2009-08-29T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T06:29:42.711-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small joys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Little things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;There are so many things you don't realize you are going to feel or experience as a new parent. One of my favorites is how wonderful their tiny soft hands feel on your skin. There is something so powerful in the touch, a connection with such simple sweetness, that it can not help but bring a smile to your face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-2723216456633327195?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/2723216456633327195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/little-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2723216456633327195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/2723216456633327195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/little-things.html' title='Little things'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-1661654929356257102</id><published>2009-08-27T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T18:54:58.145-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Firsts'/><title type='text'>Signs of Things to Come</title><content type='html'>Today when I went to pick up my son (11 months) he was a grubby playground mess. He had his first knee scrape. It was awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-1661654929356257102?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/1661654929356257102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/signs-of-things-to-come.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/1661654929356257102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/1661654929356257102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/signs-of-things-to-come.html' title='Signs of Things to Come'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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-5418587197357978309.post-3971251380891767551</id><published>2009-08-26T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T19:26:57.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;I want to remember, but I don't.  As the years pass my memories get more hazy. I don't want to forget these amazing times with my family and the ones who have already passed. My late grandmother, Olga Edith Morgan, my Nana was born this day 1912. She kept journals as a young girl and then again in her last years, tracking waking and sleeping, worries and joys. In her honor, I am starting this blog to preserve my past and chronicle my present.  Happy Birthday Nana. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5418587197357978309-3971251380891767551?l=dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/feeds/3971251380891767551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/remeber.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/3971251380891767551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5418587197357978309/posts/default/3971251380891767551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dinabeebleberry.blogspot.com/2009/08/remeber.html' title='Remember'/><author><name>Heartworks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11246105671912832672</uri><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>
