<?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-1725894767782485741</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:17:35.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boober's Dad</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5907620373124872395</id><published>2009-12-11T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T16:54:03.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hilarious google searches</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/11/hilarious-google-searches/"&gt;hilarious google searches&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5907620373124872395?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/11/hilarious-google-searches/' title='hilarious google searches'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5907620373124872395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/hilarious-google-searches.html#comment-form' title='39 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5907620373124872395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5907620373124872395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/hilarious-google-searches.html' title='hilarious google searches'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>39</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3481311595050604673</id><published>2009-12-09T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T05:57:38.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why’d I have to grow up?</title><content type='html'>I wish I was a baby again. How nice is that? Everything is new. Everything is there to explore. Except for the inability to explain yourself intelligibly, it's a sweet life. No job. No responsibilities. Can walk around in your pajamas all day. Everyone brings you your meals. You're given a bath every night. When you cry and complain, people actually care and listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/09/whyd-i-have-to-grow-up/"&gt;Why’d I have to grow up?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3481311595050604673?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/09/whyd-i-have-to-grow-up/' title='Why’d I have to grow up?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3481311595050604673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/whyd-i-have-to-grow-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3481311595050604673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3481311595050604673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/whyd-i-have-to-grow-up.html' title='Why’d I have to grow up?'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-1487080245050339898</id><published>2009-12-04T16:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T16:27:44.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>duck duck duck goose</title><content type='html'>For awhile now Baby J. has been saying "da da". And some will argue she's just babbling, while I argue that it isn't a coincidence that she says it mostly to me (especially when I first get done with work or when she's bringing me something). But that's beside the point. For sure, without it possibly being interpreted any other way, Baby J. says "duck".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/04/duck-duck-duck-goose/"&gt;duck duck duck goose&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-1487080245050339898?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/12/04/duck-duck-duck-goose/' title='duck duck duck goose'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/1487080245050339898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/duck-duck-duck-goose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/1487080245050339898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/1487080245050339898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/duck-duck-duck-goose.html' title='duck duck duck goose'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-9128305372372365546</id><published>2009-11-23T05:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T05:22:24.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reminiscing</title><content type='html'>My wife and I have started going through all the pictures of Baby J. since her birth. We're trying to put together a bunch of pictures for the holidays. I can't believe she's already 10 months old. So much time has passed so quickly. It's surprising too to see her now and to think of how much she has changed but also how much she really is still a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/23/reminiscing/"&gt;Reminiscing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-9128305372372365546?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/23/reminiscing/' title='Reminiscing'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/9128305372372365546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/reminiscing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/9128305372372365546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/9128305372372365546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/reminiscing.html' title='Reminiscing'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3733635556901746252</id><published>2009-11-19T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T06:26:25.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>too expensive being a parent</title><content type='html'>Before we had Baby J., my wife and I were dinks (double income no kids). It was easy getting by. We were able to save up enough money to buy a nice house, a nice car, live in a good neighborhood and have all the amenities. Now that we're parents and my wife stays home with the baby, it isn't enough that we're on a tigheter budget, but everything is more expensive now. I'm not just talking about the cost of diapers and formula. My health insurance tripled in cost. The health insurance company refused to cover what it should have for the hospital visits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/19/too-expensive-being-a-parent/"&gt;too expensive being a parent&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3733635556901746252?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/19/too-expensive-being-a-parent/' title='too expensive being a parent'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3733635556901746252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/too-expensive-being-parent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3733635556901746252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3733635556901746252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/too-expensive-being-parent.html' title='too expensive being a parent'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5826303783196123864</id><published>2009-11-18T05:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T05:45:52.008-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Blanket</title><content type='html'>We live in Western New York, so this time of year, it starts to get really cold. We had our first snow on October 1st. That being the case, we wrap Baby J. in two layers of pajamas each night. Even with the heat going all night, it still gets really cold. The pajamas alone aren't enough. So at the last pediatrician's visit, we asked if there was any reason we couldn't give her a blanket. All the books say wait until they're a year and a half before giving them a blanket. That seemed pretty ridiculous to us. Baby J. is an extremely active baby. And even though she sleeps for long stretches at a time, she's a light sleeper. The pediatrician said we were ok to give her a blanket, and we have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/18/baby-blanket/"&gt;Baby Blanket&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5826303783196123864?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/18/baby-blanket/' title='Baby Blanket'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5826303783196123864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-blanket.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5826303783196123864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5826303783196123864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-blanket.html' title='Baby Blanket'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-8438774385306760724</id><published>2009-11-17T06:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T06:45:43.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s Time to Sleep</title><content type='html'>Ever been so utterly exhausted after taking care of your kid that you can't stay awake any longer? Yesterday, I was taking care of Baby J. She was playing on the floor of her bedroom with some stuffed animals, while I was sitting next to her. I'd been up late the night before working. It didn't help that the baby woke me up at 5am, because she was tired of sleeping in the crib but wanted to pass out in my arms. So, there I was, going on about three hours of sleep, watching a baby playing with her toys, when I passed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/17/its-time-to-sleep/"&gt;It’s Time to Sleep&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-8438774385306760724?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/17/its-time-to-sleep/' title='It’s Time to Sleep'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8438774385306760724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-time-to-sleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8438774385306760724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8438774385306760724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-time-to-sleep.html' title='It’s Time to Sleep'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-535813865764582271</id><published>2009-11-17T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T06:30:50.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitchen Baby</title><content type='html'>Baby J. loves playing on the kitchen floor. She prefers the kitchen over every other room in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/17/kitchen-baby/"&gt;Kitchen Baby&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-535813865764582271?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/17/kitchen-baby/' title='Kitchen Baby'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/535813865764582271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/kitchen-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/535813865764582271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/535813865764582271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/kitchen-baby.html' title='Kitchen Baby'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3865022445237374789</id><published>2009-11-16T17:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T17:50:03.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Pancakes</title><content type='html'>Baby J. keeps impressing me with what foods she loves right away. She tried pancakes tonight, and at first, I thought she wasn't into them. I gave her little pieces she could chew, and she just kept looking at them funny, and then tossing them over her shoulder. My wife said, "Give her a big piece and see what she does." Baby J. took a half pancake, and she devoured it. She gobbled it up. She tore it apart, and she ate every little piece. I guess she just doesn't like being given little pieces. She wants the whole pie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/16/baby-pancakes/"&gt;Baby Pancakes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3865022445237374789?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/16/baby-pancakes/' title='Baby Pancakes'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3865022445237374789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-pancakes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3865022445237374789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3865022445237374789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-pancakes.html' title='Baby Pancakes'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-8516644869659446943</id><published>2009-11-15T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T13:40:01.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo Shoot Disaster</title><content type='html'>Today didn't turn out well at all. It was the day we took Baby J. in for her photo shoot. We went to Sears photo. We chose them largely because we had a 40% off coupon and a free session. If I had to do it over again, I'm not sure I would have gone had it been free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/15/photo-shoot-disaster/"&gt;Photo Shoot Disaster&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-8516644869659446943?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/15/photo-shoot-disaster/' title='Photo Shoot Disaster'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8516644869659446943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/photo-shoot-disaster.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8516644869659446943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8516644869659446943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/photo-shoot-disaster.html' title='Photo Shoot Disaster'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-2159926851626825621</id><published>2009-11-14T08:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T08:02:14.369-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Painting with Grandma</title><content type='html'>My wife and Baby J.'s grandma are painting the kitchen today, so it's another Daddy Daughter Day. I took Baby J. to the supermarket this morning. The cashiers were doting over her as usual, trying to play peek-a-book with her and making silly faces; she was a little too tired to play along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/14/painting-with-grandma/"&gt;Painting with Grandma&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-2159926851626825621?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/14/painting-with-grandma/' title='Painting with Grandma'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/2159926851626825621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/painting-with-grandma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/2159926851626825621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/2159926851626825621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/painting-with-grandma.html' title='Painting with Grandma'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3619184377429638785</id><published>2009-11-13T05:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T05:23:45.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Monitor</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This morning after waking up at 6:30am and after I prepped Baby J.'s bottle, my wife was changing her diaper. The baby monitor was still on, so I could hear their entire conversation. It went something like this:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My wife: Say, 'mama'. Say 'mama'.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Baby J. emits louding farting noise.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My wife: That's not how you say 'mama'.&lt;/p&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/13/baby-monitor/"&gt;Baby Monitor&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3619184377429638785?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/13/baby-monitor/' title='Baby Monitor'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3619184377429638785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-monitor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3619184377429638785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3619184377429638785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-monitor.html' title='Baby Monitor'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-7711007604379200822</id><published>2009-11-12T17:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T17:26:19.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Poop</title><content type='html'>Whenever Baby J. gets red in the face and stops breathing, I know it can only mean one thing. Poop. I swear sometimes when she's pooping, she looks like she's going to explode. Sometimes, she'll stand up against a piece of furniture, squat down, and push so hard she grunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/baby-poop/"&gt;Baby Poop&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-7711007604379200822?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/baby-poop/' title='Baby Poop'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7711007604379200822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-poop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7711007604379200822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7711007604379200822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-poop.html' title='Baby Poop'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-7123508537546376368</id><published>2009-11-12T12:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T12:56:24.981-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby, Don’t Cry…</title><content type='html'>How much does it break your heart, when your baby is crying? I hate it. I want to pick her up every time and make her feel better. I hate seeing her cry. It goes down in the list of all time things I can't stand. Recently, I yelled at one of the cats; the stupid cat was clawing up the furniture,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/baby-dont-cry/"&gt;Baby, Don’t Cry…&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-7123508537546376368?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/baby-dont-cry/' title='Baby, Don’t Cry…'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7123508537546376368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-dont-cry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7123508537546376368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7123508537546376368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-dont-cry.html' title='Baby, Don’t Cry…'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5410596317823611789</id><published>2009-11-12T06:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T06:16:18.425-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pointing at Dad</title><content type='html'>Baby J. has started pointing...at everything. She points at me, and she says "da". She points at her toys. She points at her mommy. She points at books. She points at the cats, the fireplace, the floor, the ceiling, the tables, the chairs, and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/pointing-at-dad/"&gt;Pointing at Dad&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5410596317823611789?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/12/pointing-at-dad/' title='Pointing at Dad'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5410596317823611789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/pointing-at-dad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5410596317823611789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5410596317823611789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/pointing-at-dad.html' title='Pointing at Dad'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-9064338132428105186</id><published>2009-11-11T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T06:13:39.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking Turns with Baby</title><content type='html'>My wife and I have adopted a simple system of taking turns. One morning, I'll get a little extra sleep, while she gives the baby the bottle. The next morning, I'll let her sleep some more. One night, I'll handle the bath. The next night, she will. If my wife put the baby down for her last nap, then I'll handle getting her down that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/11/taking-turns-with-baby/"&gt;Taking Turns with Baby&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-9064338132428105186?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/11/taking-turns-with-baby/' title='Taking Turns with Baby'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/9064338132428105186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/taking-turns-with-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/9064338132428105186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/9064338132428105186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/taking-turns-with-baby.html' title='Taking Turns with Baby'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3796528437008631950</id><published>2009-11-10T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T17:20:58.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flu Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Maybe it's better if we never go outside at all.&lt;/p&gt; I mean, how careful are you during flu season? My wife have gotten into the habit of wiping anything and everything down with baby wipes, especially anything in public like shopping carts, benches, tables, chairs, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more...&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/flu-season/"&gt;Flu Season&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3796528437008631950?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/flu-season/' title='Flu Season'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3796528437008631950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/flu-season.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3796528437008631950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3796528437008631950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/flu-season.html' title='Flu Season'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-2250298113577817212</id><published>2009-11-10T11:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T11:20:41.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why isn’t my baby sleeping?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://mommyslittlemonkey.net/2009/11/why-isnt-my-baby-sleeping/"&gt;Why isn’t my baby sleeping?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-2250298113577817212?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://mommyslittlemonkey.net/2009/11/why-isnt-my-baby-sleeping/' title='Why isn’t my baby sleeping?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/2250298113577817212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-isnt-my-baby-sleeping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/2250298113577817212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/2250298113577817212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-isnt-my-baby-sleeping.html' title='Why isn’t my baby sleeping?'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-3691227210676538066</id><published>2009-11-10T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T09:22:33.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing the Baby Weight…or not?</title><content type='html'>Nice blog on being a mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mommyslittlemonkey.net/2009/11/losing-the-baby-weight-or-not/"&gt;Losing the Baby Weight…or not?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-3691227210676538066?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://mommyslittlemonkey.net/2009/11/losing-the-baby-weight-or-not/' title='Losing the Baby Weight…or not?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3691227210676538066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/losing-baby-weightor-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3691227210676538066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/3691227210676538066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/losing-baby-weightor-not.html' title='Losing the Baby Weight…or not?'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-7608255032903999623</id><published>2009-11-10T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T09:14:54.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ditch the Pink</title><content type='html'>Whenever we go out anywhere like the store or the mall or wherever, people are always coming up and saying "hi" to Baby J. Now, unless we have dressed her in pink, everyone refers to her as "he". "Aw, he is such a cutie?" or "He's a really beautiful baby." Now, how come boys get every color in the spectrum except the color pink? I'll grant you, maybe if we dress her in a more pastel color with butterflies on it or something, people will figure out she's a girl, but if it's a basic, normal color like red or green or blue or yellow, people invariably assume my baby is a boy. Sometimes, I can dress her in the girliest fashions, and people will still ask, "Boy or girl?"; for example, we had her dressed in a floral red dress with a red bonnet, and a man asked if she was a boy or girl. "Yes, sir, that's my son, I just like to dress him up in daisies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more &lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/09/ditch-the-pink/"&gt;Ditch the Pink&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-7608255032903999623?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/09/ditch-the-pink/' title='Ditch the Pink'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7608255032903999623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/ditch-pink.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7608255032903999623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/7608255032903999623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/ditch-pink.html' title='Ditch the Pink'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5185079430197234605</id><published>2009-11-10T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T09:07:07.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spitting Mad</title><content type='html'>For those who don't already know it, I work from home. I have a little office down in the basement. My wife and Baby J. are upstairs most of the time, doing whatever they're doing, while I'm working. Right now for instance, I can hear Baby J. She's spitting mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more &lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/spitting-mad/"&gt;Spitting Mad&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5185079430197234605?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/spitting-mad/' title='Spitting Mad'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5185079430197234605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/spitting-mad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5185079430197234605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5185079430197234605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/spitting-mad.html' title='Spitting Mad'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5998528135891200178</id><published>2009-11-10T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T08:57:29.409-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night</title><content type='html'>Are you having trouble getting your baby to sleep through the night? How many hours is he or she sleeping at night, before waking up? How much sleep are you getting yourself? For us, we were lucky &lt;em&gt;at first&lt;/em&gt;. Baby J. naturally fell into a pattern of sleeping through the night at around 4 months of age. We didn't have to do anything. No tricks. No special bedtime routines. It was like we were suddenly gifted with a great sleeper (after a couple rough months of always waking up &lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/04/reflux-misery/"&gt;due to reflux&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more here &lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/09/how-to-get-baby-to-sleep-through-the-night/"&gt;How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5998528135891200178?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/09/how-to-get-baby-to-sleep-through-the-night/' title='How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5998528135891200178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-get-baby-to-sleep-through-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5998528135891200178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5998528135891200178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-get-baby-to-sleep-through-night.html' title='How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-5078497043356647448</id><published>2009-11-10T08:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T08:55:51.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheese in the Hair</title><content type='html'>Boober Gets some cheese in her hair in this funny video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/cheese-in-the-hair/"&gt;Cheese in the Hair&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-5078497043356647448?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/cheese-in-the-hair/' title='Cheese in the Hair'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5078497043356647448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/cheese-in-hair.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5078497043356647448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/5078497043356647448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/cheese-in-hair.html' title='Cheese in the Hair'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1725894767782485741.post-8230159565269054070</id><published>2009-11-10T05:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T05:17:33.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so tired.</title><content type='html'>I'm exhausted. Baby J. woke me up at 5am this morning by squealing into the baby monitor. She continued sleeping for another hour, while I sat in bed, wide eyed wanting to use the bathroom but afraid that making any noise at all would wake the baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more &lt;a href="http://www.daddydaughterday.com/2009/11/10/im-so-tired/"&gt;Soooo tired&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1725894767782485741-8230159565269054070?l=boobersdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8230159565269054070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-so-tired.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8230159565269054070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1725894767782485741/posts/default/8230159565269054070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boobersdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-so-tired.html' title='I&apos;m so tired.'/><author><name>D.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01037447283743961450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y_OC2I9ni2Y/Svmv2Um8iuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KdYIigwpx5E/s1600-R/100_3765-300x225.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
