<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577</id><updated>2009-10-20T07:31:12.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Love Astrid</title><subtitle type='html'>My daughter Astrid was born in April of 2005. This blog is meant to document Astrid's life and my life as I experience motherhood.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1029</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-7366960348857099490</id><published>2009-09-19T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T10:50:39.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Astrid wants a baby (our conversation over lunch)</title><content type='html'>Astrid and I had an interesting conversation over lunch today.  There was a family eating close by with a crying baby and Astrid got very serious and told me she wants a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid: Mom, I want a baby.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Astrid, you have lots of babies.&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  No, no not a doll.  I want a REAL baby.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Why do you want a baby?&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  I want to feed it and take care of it and put it to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  What if the baby cries for hours and won't go to sleep?&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  I'll hold it and rock it back and forth and sing to it so it goes to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Remember when we babysat Maddox?  All you wanted to do was feed her, but when she wasn't hungry you weren't interested.&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  I'm older now. I'm a big girl.  I can take care of a baby. Please can I have a baby?&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Where are you going to get a baby?&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  Maybe someone will give one to me.&lt;br /&gt;Me:  You think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;someone is &lt;/span&gt;going to leave a baby outside for you to come pick it up?&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  (laughing) No. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;...we need to think about how I can get a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'll get right on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-7366960348857099490?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/7366960348857099490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=7366960348857099490&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7366960348857099490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7366960348857099490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/09/astrid-wants-baby-our-conversation-over.html' title='Astrid wants a baby (our conversation over lunch)'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-4592528690394635621</id><published>2009-08-23T23:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T23:53:20.927-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><title type='text'>The new face of Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SpI4sCcF_BI/AAAAAAAAJ0M/NGHkwaiPbPU/s1600-h/08-24-2009+(Astrid+in+Godmother+Jill+Davis%27+baby+pool).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373419634626526226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SpI4sCcF_BI/AAAAAAAAJ0M/NGHkwaiPbPU/s400/08-24-2009+(Astrid+in+Godmother+Jill+Davis%27+baby+pool).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Photo taken by Astrid's Godmother today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-4592528690394635621?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/4592528690394635621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=4592528690394635621&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4592528690394635621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4592528690394635621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-face-of-summer.html' title='The new face of Summer'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SpI4sCcF_BI/AAAAAAAAJ0M/NGHkwaiPbPU/s72-c/08-24-2009+(Astrid+in+Godmother+Jill+Davis%27+baby+pool).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-4170875559505641</id><published>2009-07-13T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T22:38:43.813-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>The movie "Up"</title><content type='html'>I took Astrid to see the movie, "Up" today.  We got home at 6:30 and it was sweltering inside the house.  I got an idea to go to the movies - for the cool air &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;conditioning&lt;/span&gt; - and also because I had heard people raving about "Up".  It was playing at 7 PM - so Astrid and I jumped in the car and went and saw the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is what my 4 year old got out of it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Why the man hit him on the head and make blood come out?  And why the police come?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama:  "Well he didn't want the man touching his mailbox and he got really angry.  But you can't just hit people, or you'll get in trouble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Yeah you can't hit people.  You're supposed to say - 'Please don't do that that.'  Right mama?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama:  "That's right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "I say sorry when I push people at school sometimes.  And they supposed to apologize to me too.  When you hurt someone on accident you have to apologize."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew there was a built in proverb?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-4170875559505641?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/4170875559505641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=4170875559505641&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4170875559505641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4170875559505641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/07/movie-up.html' title='The movie &quot;Up&quot;'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-4894646319088967907</id><published>2009-07-13T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T22:30:45.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Astrid translates</title><content type='html'>Astrid was telling me about a phrase her one male teacher sometimes uses - "knock it off".  Having never heard it used before she deduced what it meant as follows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sabat&lt;/span&gt; says, 'Knock it off'.  That means stop.  He says that when everybody is doing things that they're not supposed to be doing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that was pretty good for a 4 year old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-4894646319088967907?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/4894646319088967907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=4894646319088967907&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4894646319088967907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4894646319088967907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/07/astrid-translates.html' title='Astrid translates'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-8998410788301054717</id><published>2009-07-03T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T09:08:03.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Child Observations</title><content type='html'>"Mama - look she has a BIG tummy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid will point out the obvious thinking it's funny &amp;amp; doesn't want me to miss out on the funny sight.  I know there's no malice or mean intentions to any of her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;observations&lt;/span&gt;, but she says it so loudly that the person can overhear her, so at that point I have to put on my mom hat and "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;shhh&lt;/span&gt;" her and remind her to be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting next to a couple with a little girl who had the oddest features.  Big eyes with a bushy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;uni brow&lt;/span&gt; and an oddly shaped mouth with an overbite.  Astrid kept trying to point her out to me (obviously I saw her right away) so I kept trying to distract Astrid.  Finally Astrid said, "Look mom - she has a funny face! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hahaha&lt;/span&gt;."  Oh boy - the kid's parents were sitting right next to us.  So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt;.  She's going to get me in trouble one of these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a kid she comments on everything she sees.  Like "Why is he in a wheelchair mom?"  I don't mind explaining to her that maybe he/she got into an accident or maybe they were born with a disability and can't walk.  But I try to minimize the finger pointing and exclaiming really loudly - telling her that she can hurt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;someones&lt;/span&gt; feelings by doing that.  She can whisper to me and I'll explain it to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually after her pointing and exclamation - after my reminder not to be so loud and to be nice - she'll whisper to me, "Mom - look at that man. He has a BIG tummy."  Okay that's better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-8998410788301054717?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/8998410788301054717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=8998410788301054717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8998410788301054717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8998410788301054717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/07/child-observations.html' title='Child Observations'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-2798681696461193721</id><published>2009-06-06T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T20:44:46.751-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hat'/><title type='text'>Astrid wearing Mama's hat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SiyIbyJps6I/AAAAAAAAJ0E/kunZirOC-UI/s1600-h/Astrid+wearing+mama%27s+hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344796868682036130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SiyIbyJps6I/AAAAAAAAJ0E/kunZirOC-UI/s400/Astrid+wearing+mama%27s+hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Cutie cutie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;U. took this photo of Astrid.  When they came home Astrid grabbed my hat that was on the chair and put it on.  I love how she's looking straight into the camera like she's talking to you. That's my daughter alright.  Looking at this photo make me want to hug her and kiss her cheeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-2798681696461193721?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/2798681696461193721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=2798681696461193721&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2798681696461193721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2798681696461193721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/06/astrid-wearing-mamas-hat.html' title='Astrid wearing Mama&apos;s hat'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SiyIbyJps6I/AAAAAAAAJ0E/kunZirOC-UI/s72-c/Astrid+wearing+mama%27s+hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6111714064922940414</id><published>2009-05-28T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T07:05:18.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barcelona trip without Astrid</title><content type='html'>U. and I decided to fly to Barcelona for his birthday today.  We will be back in 6 days, and with such a short international trip we decided it best if we made the journey just us 2 adults without Astrid. A second honeymoon of sorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is only the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; international trip we've taken without Astrid.  The first time was to Amsterdam in December 2008 when Astrid was 3 years old, and only for a few days.  She had already accompanied us to Europe including Amsterdam just a couple months previous in October 2008, so she wasn't missing anything.   This time the trip will be little longer with us being gone for 6 days. It feels so strange to not have her with us (as I'm sitting in the airport lounge typing this).  Last night she stayed at her nanny's house since we had pack and leave the house by 5 AM - and I kept catching myself "listening" for her. To hear her if she woke up.  Habit I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid begged to go on vacation with us.  The plane, the food, the adventure - Astrid inherited our wanderlust and love of travel. I would love to take her but not this time.  Mama and Papa need some alone time too.  "Next time I'll go on vacation with you," Astrid declared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid will be staying with her nanny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beate&lt;/span&gt; and her family - which includes 2 kids that Astrid adores.  She told me on the drive home from school yesterday, "I love Claire and Noah." She was so excited to "sleep over" at their place and get to see them and play with them for days in a row.  In fact when I dropped her off last night she immediately ran upstairs with Noah, leaving me behind.  I had to call up to her and ask her to come down to give me a hug reminding her that she won't see me for awhile.  Her response was classic kid, "I know!" Quick hug and kiss and off she was running again to play with the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days preceding our flight I was giving Astrid more hugs and kisses and feeling that gnawing feeling in my gut - already missing my baby.  She's been sleeping in our bed recently and both U. and I did not fight it - in fact welcoming it just so we could be close to her and hold her all night.  I'd also been preparing her with lots of conversation about being away but we'd always be thinking about her and when we would be coming home and the situation with her staying with her nanny, etc.  Also told her when we got home she'd get a surprise (hoping to find a Spanish doll for her).  Also that both her Papa and I loved her so much and she's always on our mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday evening as I was finishing up in the office, Astrid sat on the floor of my office and colored and enjoyed listening to my music playing on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt;. I e-mailed U. and told him how much I would miss her and what a good little girl she is.  He told me he felt the same way and felt guilty about leaving her.  I marveled at how much we love our little one that it kills us to be apart from her, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;even though&lt;/span&gt; we know she's in good hands and will be having a great time.  Her nanny has all sorts of activities planned including going to the beach, and we'll &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Skype&lt;/span&gt; so we can talk to Astrid and see her on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;webcam&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still miss her and would love to hold her right now and look into her smiling face and kiss her sweet cheeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-6111714064922940414?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6111714064922940414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6111714064922940414&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6111714064922940414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6111714064922940414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/barcelona-trip-without-astrid.html' title='Barcelona trip without Astrid'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-7974262189562940074</id><published>2009-05-28T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T06:41:35.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking</title><content type='html'>Lately Astrid is thinking a lot - and telling me all about it.  It's a wonder how her brain works and is developing so fast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She will tell me she was thinking about something last night while she was lying in bed, or she'll stop and tell me she's thinking about something, or ask me to help her name whatever it is that she's thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of thinking going on over here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-7974262189562940074?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/7974262189562940074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=7974262189562940074&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7974262189562940074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7974262189562940074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/thinking.html' title='Thinking'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6732283756643259116</id><published>2009-05-24T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T23:36:49.431-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><title type='text'>File under "Things my 4 yr old says"</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm ready Freddy!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I grow up am I going to have big boobs like you? (My answer was: "I hope not.")&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aye aye Captain! What's that mean?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let's rock and roll!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-6732283756643259116?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6732283756643259116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6732283756643259116&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6732283756643259116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6732283756643259116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/file-under-things-my-4-yr-old-says.html' title='File under &quot;Things my 4 yr old says&quot;'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-7094277943226014349</id><published>2009-05-22T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T23:41:26.709-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maddox'/><title type='text'>Astrid and Maddox</title><content type='html'>Astrid spent some time at her Godmother Jill's house playing with her 5 month old daughter Maddox.  Too cute seeing my baby with a little baby.  Astrid looks like her older sister.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339647157458128562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/Sho8zI43TrI/AAAAAAAAJzs/e1ksLUf20_k/s400/maddox_5months-019_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/Sho8zhhxyzI/AAAAAAAAJz8/sePesaTw2G8/s1600-h/maddox_5months-014sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339647164072184626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/Sho8zhhxyzI/AAAAAAAAJz8/sePesaTw2G8/s400/maddox_5months-014sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339647165822771058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/Sho8zoDJn3I/AAAAAAAAJz0/QPdLnn3qinc/s400/maddox_5months-015sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Maddox can wave now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-7094277943226014349?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/7094277943226014349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=7094277943226014349&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7094277943226014349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/7094277943226014349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/astrid-and-maddox.html' title='Astrid and Maddox'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/Sho8zI43TrI/AAAAAAAAJzs/e1ksLUf20_k/s72-c/maddox_5months-019_sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-136141076180452443</id><published>2009-05-18T12:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T12:59:25.895-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>Vomit &amp; Lack of Sleep</title><content type='html'>Had one of those nights/mornings where I barely got any sleep taking care of a sick little one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid's normally a good sleeper but she had a hard time falling asleep last night.  Even lying in my bed, where normally she'll fall asleep in a nanosecond - she would cry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; I got up. I don't think she got to sleep until around midnight. Then she started complaining about an ear ache in the wee morning hours.  I thought it may have been swimmers ear since she'd been swimming in a salt water pool earlier in the day.  That was followed by vomiting.  But at least she let me know she felt like throwing up, so we could run to the bathroom together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally fell asleep only to be woken up with Astrid shouting, "Mom I threw up on the floor!  It was an accident!"  So I spent the next hour or so cleaning up, doing laundry, and trying to get the little one comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an appointment this morning to take a tour of a nearby school - and yet when I called for Astrid to come to her room to get dressed, she was sound asleep.  Rather than wake her, I decided to cancel the appointment and let the little one sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am completely sleep deprived and the little one is in good spirits and well rested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However she did tell me after our whole ordeal, "Mama, I love you so much.  I don't miss Papa anymore. But I love him too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do have to leave the house to take my dad to the VA hospital for some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-surgery tests and prep work.  Caffeine will be my friend today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-136141076180452443?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/136141076180452443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=136141076180452443&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/136141076180452443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/136141076180452443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/vomit-lack-of-sleep.html' title='Vomit &amp; Lack of Sleep'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-4145640248778882354</id><published>2009-05-17T23:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T10:29:18.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><title type='text'>Astrid thinking about her Papa</title><content type='html'>U. is away on business for a conference in Austin, TX.  It's difficult to explain to a 4 year old where their other parent is, as they don't understand a) where they went, b) why, and c) when they're coming back - no matter how many times you try and explain so they understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;An example of that is this conversation I had with Astrid tonight:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Where did Papa go?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "He's in Texas honey."&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "But why?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "He's there for work.  He'll be back on Tuesday."&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Where is he going to sleep?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "He's staying at a hotel."&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Is he going to sleep in a bed?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Yes, the hotel has a bed in his room."&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "But does he have a refrigerator?!"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  (laughing) "A refrigerator?  Why would you ask that?  Why does he need a refrigerator?"&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "So he can eat and cook food mama!"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  (still laughing) "Don't worry honey, he's in the city - not out in the boonies of Texas.  There are plenty of restaurants.  Don't worry about Papa.  He'll be just fine."&lt;br /&gt;Astrid:  "Are you sure Mama?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Yes I'm sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So U. if you're out there reading this, you may want to send us a pic of you eating so your daughter knows you aren't starving in some remote part of Texas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-4145640248778882354?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/4145640248778882354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=4145640248778882354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4145640248778882354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/4145640248778882354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/astrid-thinking-about-her-papa.html' title='Astrid thinking about her Papa'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-2646788635136905645</id><published>2009-05-17T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T00:13:23.463-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='circus'/><title type='text'>A day at the Circus</title><content type='html'>The circus is in town &amp;amp; we were there! Circus Vargas 2009.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337051065045195602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDqrAjm1I/AAAAAAAAJsc/Fc2l2DawONM/s400/003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had a pre-show for kids.  Allowed them to come down to the main ring and showed them how to do circus acts - like this balancing act with a Peacock feather.  The ringleader told the kids that the trick was to look at the top of the feather while balancing it on their noses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were even kids in the show - children of the circus performers.  Astrid kept asking me about them.  Why they were performing, and why we saw them at the refreshment stand.  And where they slept and went to school.  Hope she didn't get any ideas about running away and joining the circus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337051063602559650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDqlomuqI/AAAAAAAAJsU/ZynOKNzhopg/s400/001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Under the big top, enjoying her snowcone in a raver cup with blinking lights. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337050898102334338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDg9GRs4I/AAAAAAAAJsM/gcqyEwLkDIw/s400/005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Fascinated by that cup.  It is pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgjfV_bI/AAAAAAAAJsE/ryM6SW0jA14/s1600-h/006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337050891228151218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgjfV_bI/AAAAAAAAJsE/ryM6SW0jA14/s400/006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Astrid's first time under the big top.  (Only other time she saw a semi-circus was at Circus Circus.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337050887848433602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgW5jl8I/AAAAAAAAJr8/zmPTHemKM24/s400/008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;I mentioned before that Astrid is scared of clowns.  So the whole time Astrid kept asking me where the clowns were.  Until she saw this clown performing with the show doggies and kitty cats.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Is he a clown mom?" she asked.  "Oh, I'm not scared of clowns anymore mom!  I like clowns!" she exclaimed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgftAobI/AAAAAAAAJr0/NSSEwcxiweA/s1600-h/009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337050890211729842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgftAobI/AAAAAAAAJr0/NSSEwcxiweA/s400/009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; She even liked this clown.  He was equipped with a whistle and Astrid kept asking me what he was saying.  I had to explain to her that he wasn't "saying" anything.  That he was using his whistle and body movements to mean different things - like "Good job!" when he gave the thumbs up and a whistle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgF1-FaI/AAAAAAAAJrs/ZrNIYzQCCEU/s1600-h/011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337050883269989794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDgF1-FaI/AAAAAAAAJrs/ZrNIYzQCCEU/s400/011.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; During the 15 minute circus intermission Astrid went on a pony ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECkN30mFI/AAAAAAAAJrk/XUIVAFhuFDk/s1600-h/013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337049854633089106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECkN30mFI/AAAAAAAAJrk/XUIVAFhuFDk/s400/013.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337049848806429906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECj4Ko1NI/AAAAAAAAJrc/_73UpXf-kZI/s400/014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337049843412103090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECjkEh77I/AAAAAAAAJrU/ajkhKLiJrKA/s400/015.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337049841237181954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECjb9_RgI/AAAAAAAAJrM/s4RweJt-6UU/s400/018.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Trained Arabian horses and ponies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECjPun4JI/AAAAAAAAJrE/IuWhgYQTH9c/s1600-h/019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337049837951508626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShECjPun4JI/AAAAAAAAJrE/IuWhgYQTH9c/s400/019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Motorcycles zooming around inside a globe.  This act always scares me.  First one motorcycle zooming around inside, then two motorcycles, then two motorcycles and a woman standing in the middle.  I have a hard time watching and I'm so relieved when it's over and everyone is okay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Astrid was so proud of herself having overcome her fear of clowns.  Although at the end when all of the performers were standing at the exit to greet and take pictures with the visitors - she flat out told me she liked the clown but did NOT want to take a picture with him. Oh well, at least it's a step in the right direction.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Astrid and I had a great time.  The best part for her I think was the pre-show kid activities.  I loved the Arabian horses &amp;amp; ponies.  So well trained and the trainer was very kind and sweet with the horses.  At the end of the show the one horse even bent his knee and bowed.  Wow.  I felt like a kid again sitting under the big top with my kid. Definitely worth the drive out to Simi Valley, and a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/14001577-2646788635136905645?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/2646788635136905645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=2646788635136905645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2646788635136905645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2646788635136905645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/day-at-circus.html' title='A day at the Circus'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShEDqrAjm1I/AAAAAAAAJsc/Fc2l2DawONM/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-2345380278601070337</id><published>2009-05-16T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T12:22:49.082-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Strawberry Festival'/><title type='text'>Strawberry Festival in Oxnard, CA</title><content type='html'>Astrid and I went to the 26&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Annual Strawberry Festival in Oxnard today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837655050213442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBBkk0yWEI/AAAAAAAAJl8/XzMCBtzJwhI/s400/022+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;It takes place one weekend only every year in May when the strawberries are harvested. Last year they had 60,000 visitors and this year they're expecting even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ablogawayfromhome.blogspot.com/2009/05/strawberry-festival-in-oxnard-ca.html"&gt;Click here for more info.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336836992253155266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBA9_tp18I/AAAAAAAAJlU/XE8vlL9Gee4/s400/003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Here we built our own strawberry shortcake.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336836991418319314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBA98mnQdI/AAAAAAAAJlc/qZVEBv63ypc/s400/005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Astrid and I sitting on a bale of hay with our strawberry shortcake.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336836990361541794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBA94qqHKI/AAAAAAAAJlk/f30b40EBkiY/s400/006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Choo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;choo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; train time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336836995721406962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBA-MojKfI/AAAAAAAAJls/p4f2HVIdMEU/s400/007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;A perk about the festival is that kids 4 years and under are free.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837000360384610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBA-d6kWGI/AAAAAAAAJl0/E8F5ZVhxMSg/s400/011.JPG" border="0" /&gt;And they have a number of activities for kids. Including a magic show, clown show, music, and face painting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(Although Astrid is still afraid of clowns. No matter how much she says to the contrary that she's not afraid of clowns anymore - the moment she sees one she runs in the opposite direction. I don't know what it is that's so scary. Maybe just a face that's painted. I was thinking about taking her to the circus tomorrow. Circus &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Vargas&lt;/span&gt; is in town, but I told her if she's afraid of clowns we can't go because there will be lots of clowns there. Astrid assured me she'll be fine and she's not afraid. We'll see.)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336839159785805954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBC8KZtWII/AAAAAAAAJmc/t5RbVtyguds/s400/014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;My little strawberry. Astrid thought it was hilarious that the strawberry on her shirt was wearing socks and shoes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837660485934370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBBk5Ew3SI/AAAAAAAAJmM/-3K5PhIiT0U/s400/020.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking a ride on the merry go round.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837654088546210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBBkhPgd6I/AAAAAAAAJmE/9bT4fdLHTBU/s400/016.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Expect long lines, but once it's your turn you tend to forget how long you had to wait.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336837661333669202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBBk8O4RVI/AAAAAAAAJmU/Jq7Dd0qyXIA/s400/021.JPG" border="0" /&gt;All of the rides inside the festival are free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;U. is in Austin, TX for a conference so he wasn't able to join us. Next year though if we can all go as a family I'd like to try the strawberry champagne and strawberry beer. One of us can stand in line while the other goes with Astrid on a ride. =)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-2345380278601070337?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/2345380278601070337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=2345380278601070337&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2345380278601070337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/2345380278601070337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/strawberry-festival-in-oxnard-ca.html' title='Strawberry Festival in Oxnard, CA'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBBkk0yWEI/AAAAAAAAJl8/XzMCBtzJwhI/s72-c/022+-+Copy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-8220740478102858083</id><published>2009-05-13T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T10:34:29.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking cute</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGb6pFe-3I/AAAAAAAAJt8/otla3O0VKJ4/s1600-h/028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337218465174322034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGb6pFe-3I/AAAAAAAAJt8/otla3O0VKJ4/s400/028.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337218468056518258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGb6z0pznI/AAAAAAAAJuE/h1mT5XWxLvY/s400/029.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&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/14001577-8220740478102858083?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/8220740478102858083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=8220740478102858083&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8220740478102858083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8220740478102858083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/looking-cute.html' title='Looking cute'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGb6pFe-3I/AAAAAAAAJt8/otla3O0VKJ4/s72-c/028.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6617455969052193637</id><published>2009-05-10T18:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T12:21:05.647-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mother&apos;s day'/><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day 2009! (Solvang, CA)</title><content type='html'>A colleague of mine owns miniature horses bred at Quicksilver Ranch near Solvang, and she offered to set us up with a handler one weekend to take us out to see and pet the babies that were recently born. So I thought it would be fun for the whole family to make an outing up to Solvang for Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBiimiTpRI/AAAAAAAAJpE/RoXlvNfUmM0/s1600-h/038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336873905033553170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBiimiTpRI/AAAAAAAAJpE/RoXlvNfUmM0/s400/038.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The whole family together.  Happy Mother's Day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;U. is giving the little one a massage. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336865154842158962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBalRiG53I/AAAAAAAAJo8/UCk8GnoZkmY/s400/066.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Mama and baby miniature horses.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336865153468067906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBalMaf8EI/AAAAAAAAJo0/HZ1Mknksql4/s400/068.JPG" border="0" /&gt;The little ones are the size of a large dog and are super friendly. When they spotted us, they walked right up to us (again like dogs!).&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336865145933874322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBakwWNRJI/AAAAAAAAJos/YUk1K-h5VpA/s400/069.JPG" border="0" /&gt;These little babies (foals) were born just last month. While the foals are super friendly, they're super curious too and can nip so you have to watch them.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336865142119724866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBakiI190I/AAAAAAAAJok/glT2BIe7_MU/s400/070.JPG" border="0" /&gt;How cute is this? They're the perfect size for Astrid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid now wants a horse. Not just any horse but she tells us she wants one "this small" and shows us with her fingers about an inch tall. Getting a bit carried away with miniatures.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336865141403254482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBakfeBftI/AAAAAAAAJoc/zhciZsFW4Yo/s400/071.JPG" border="0" /&gt;U. getting into the petting action as well. Super cute mini-horses.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336873911517239042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBii-sI1wI/AAAAAAAAJpM/lGUehRPih0E/s400/039.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;U. trying to hold the little ones at bay from nipping us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336863380081534402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY9-CM5cI/AAAAAAAAJoU/_Y7BGbn3kBc/s400/072.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Enjoying her 1st taste of split pea soup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the horse ranch we drove back to Solvang for lunch and ate at the Solvang Restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY9qHcA_I/AAAAAAAAJoM/sYI4lqR-Idc/s1600-h/075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336863374734787570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY9qHcA_I/AAAAAAAAJoM/sYI4lqR-Idc/s400/075.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Astrid and Mama (me!).  Astrid thought that Mother's Day was like a birthday. She kept asking me if I was going to have a cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Mother's Day was special because it was the first time Astrid could wish me a "Happy Mother's Day" by actually saying it. This year it was special because she can understand the concept of me being her mother and giving birth to her and caring for her and she understands this is a day to celebrate that. And no matter how many times U. tried to tell her my gifts were a secret, she couldn't help herself by telling me. She was excited about the day and woke up exclaiming, "Today is Mother's Day!"&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336863368928289074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY9UfD4TI/AAAAAAAAJoE/nQ-qnXjTMOE/s400/078.JPG" border="0" /&gt;After lunch we took the horse drawn cable car tour around Solvang. Here we are in a Danish town in the United States with a Mexican tour guide. Only in America. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336863365716079314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY9IhNctI/AAAAAAAAJn8/41MM3jkGGKc/s400/081.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Astrid sitting on U.'s lap. Even though it was Mother's Day - Astrid wanted to be close to Papa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our tour guide proceeded to tell us about the history of the town, and she lost us when she gave us some trivia about Europe and told us Denmark is so close to Germany and Holland that when you take the train you have to stay awake or you'll miss your stop and they'll unload your luggage. Lots of laughs from clueless tourists, but U. and I gave each other the look. Um...sorry lady but I've been to Europe many times and taken the train and I can assure you it's not THAT close, and NO ONE handles your luggage. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336863362367848850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBY88C7gZI/AAAAAAAAJn0/9vfmNbCQAbU/s400/082.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Hot and miserable at the Ostrich farm at the entrance to Solvang.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336862193365207874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBX45K-y0I/AAAAAAAAJns/Q6Hh6CCrPd8/s400/087.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We eat a lot of Ostrich (since it's a red meat substitute and leaner in fat than turkey), so we thought we could buy some and take it back with us. Unfortunately they only have a smaller cooler with frozen Ostrich that's more expensive than the kind we buy from the butcher.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336862186616247762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBX4gB51dI/AAAAAAAAJnk/qssWMMRZfR4/s400/089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Feeding an Ostrich. You have to be brave because these guys WILL bite.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336862184773538802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBX4ZKkU_I/AAAAAAAAJnc/ZJUgcgZ9Veo/s400/091.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Pellets in a bowl glued to a dust pan.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336862181055301746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBX4LUEiHI/AAAAAAAAJnU/uwIykfsvRaw/s400/092.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Ever seen an Ostrich chew their food?&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336862175238020930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBX31pH30I/AAAAAAAAJnM/Ynglaw3c70o/s400/093.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Three in a row with their long necks reaching over the barrier to eat.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336860871324813346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBWr8L_SCI/AAAAAAAAJnE/cAXUglYkfX0/s400/096.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Gives you some perspective on how tall and big they are.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336860863868342850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBWrgaOkkI/AAAAAAAAJm8/CxOjDSIorww/s400/102.JPG" border="0" /&gt;They roam free and it's quite a sight to see them like wild animals out roaming on the playa.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336860857745643026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBWrJmdlhI/AAAAAAAAJm0/0lizlmHo9SA/s400/103.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Don't even think about eating my food!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336860854716002642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBWq-UI8VI/AAAAAAAAJms/6WUfPGnhxN4/s400/104.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Since U. didn't want his picture taken, neither did Astrid. But I still got a few.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336860848229968018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBWqmJv6JI/AAAAAAAAJmk/55zbojfZaeU/s400/105.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It was a long day, but I'm glad we were able to make it to Solvang and enjoyed a full day there together on Mother's Day.&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/14001577-6617455969052193637?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6617455969052193637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6617455969052193637&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6617455969052193637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6617455969052193637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day-2009-solvang-ca.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day 2009! (Solvang, CA)'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShBiimiTpRI/AAAAAAAAJpE/RoXlvNfUmM0/s72-c/038.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-951818888409856344</id><published>2009-05-08T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T12:40:16.212-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recital'/><title type='text'>Astrid's Multicultural Spring Recital</title><content type='html'>Astrid's preschool had their Spring recital and the theme was "Multicultural." &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337238070737143426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtv1f6hoI/AAAAAAAAJxU/9l6ZuvavSpI/s400/007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to celebrate diversity and have all cultures represented, they asked us parents to dress our children in traditional dress, red/white/blue Patriotic American, Hawaiian, etc.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337238066846326498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtvnARXuI/AAAAAAAAJxM/mZwvf9eejBM/s400/008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid had a speaking part at this recital as well. (Her first speaking part was at her Winter Recital last December.) I was happy to see Astrid's name listed on the 1st page under "Opening Speech". (Last year they left out her name in error.) &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337238064576411618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtvejFN-I/AAAAAAAAJxE/gztY-vmgr1I/s400/All+American+Cowgirl.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Astrid dressed as an "All American Cowgirl".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus: I didn't have to go out and buy anything new. Astrid had the dress, and I had the scarf, and I borrowed the black cowboy hat and boots from her nanny. They fit perfectly. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337238053703340978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtu2CvU7I/AAAAAAAAJw8/aud4qn39xJM/s400/001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Yee-haw!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337238053527509458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtu1Y0WdI/AAAAAAAAJw0/I0ky2DbeQF8/s400/002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Howdy partner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGszXYXhbI/AAAAAAAAJws/UBUGNbbPNH8/s1600-h/005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337237031860274610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGszXYXhbI/AAAAAAAAJws/UBUGNbbPNH8/s400/005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Standing with the kids backstage. There were lots of Indian and Chinese costumes, as well as Hawaiian shirts and dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGszN4QaII/AAAAAAAAJwk/oCqPB7PuL98/s1600-h/006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337237029309671554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGszN4QaII/AAAAAAAAJwk/oCqPB7PuL98/s400/006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;See this a lot with a finger in her mouth &amp;amp; have to remind her to take it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsy4YGm4I/AAAAAAAAJwc/3kCNdy7X8mU/s1600-h/009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337237023537666946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsy4YGm4I/AAAAAAAAJwc/3kCNdy7X8mU/s400/009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; They had posters around the auditorium about different countries and cultures. Funny that Germany and South Korea were right next to each other - since Astrid's heritage is German &amp;amp; Korean (American).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsyg0ta4I/AAAAAAAAJwU/gsK0XMdU9YI/s1600-h/017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337237017215200130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsyg0ta4I/AAAAAAAAJwU/gsK0XMdU9YI/s400/017.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Our fearless little one standing on stage next to her microphone, ready to give her opening speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsysGWCNI/AAAAAAAAJwM/1ICFXtgSTHs/s1600-h/018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337237020241955026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGsysGWCNI/AAAAAAAAJwM/1ICFXtgSTHs/s400/018.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She looked so adorable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8a502d418f03c60a" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADbdx0ctBZ6r0jjgHMEoxaZ7_He0rpWN4edqbm06p_GrLWH18kcsxz1qsw7v195uqhqqKOBeS5vXx7fVj9BRdvlJ_hGempWX2UlEFZkyhH6JtGr-UDtrivZ9XEPTmkKrJbEvqQbE38eFk0Xw7cCeEhOP5BRyZCzcr5_0fN1EARcEc0amWoe4JWNQbon7j909ESP1GAQS1rc8NJq-UQ22tDibxYYE9FDEhiNqSS3XkNhw%26sigh%3DRroHjLKWogOVo7EyE-wj629rjus%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8a502d418f03c60a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DZe9WVMEf5nawKSHD28SMCYxNdno&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADbdx0ctBZ6r0jjgHMEoxaZ7_He0rpWN4edqbm06p_GrLWH18kcsxz1qsw7v195uqhqqKOBeS5vXx7fVj9BRdvlJ_hGempWX2UlEFZkyhH6JtGr-UDtrivZ9XEPTmkKrJbEvqQbE38eFk0Xw7cCeEhOP5BRyZCzcr5_0fN1EARcEc0amWoe4JWNQbon7j909ESP1GAQS1rc8NJq-UQ22tDibxYYE9FDEhiNqSS3XkNhw%26sigh%3DRroHjLKWogOVo7EyE-wj629rjus%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8a502d418f03c60a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DZe9WVMEf5nawKSHD28SMCYxNdno&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;There were 2 kids speaking ahead of Astrid, so I was all set to hit "record" with her speech which was the 3rd. But the 2nd kid either got stage fright, or took a bit too long to start and Astrid started. So I missed the beginning part of her speech. U. has a better video. (Which *ahem* he still needs to give me.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Her speech went like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Buenos Dias.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please rise for the Pledge of Allegiance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Try saying Pledge of Allegiance loud and fast - it's a mouthful. I was so proud of her. She said her lines perfectly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ee07ee4dd75cbfbd" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAEbqiT-pXmimn7VDny7-dKrc-AnYo8cHzuUpHwY6Mj1H8U7t9JNrQ6-GrRryuiMQqLaSAhWOOIPOpYGXlwX6puN8K66virOukOz-4jfR0sVj56vXCuxyO_4P_Z-INjWfiyNIlK_kUsGt98tPOhp-05GyIcwYvvj6Z8ws8W1G0UvZiImWNF9UheOWpkzt1nXNZHUxoLVO1Iewhfvf8qy5IXO0Y-oljvaJVsk_NeZgWF2Y%26sigh%3DLONQ_r2XeTKp0BMLetlEdlNgyAo%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee07ee4dd75cbfbd%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DiJnvc1vrqO7sHLc-4GpJo5MXnN0&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAEbqiT-pXmimn7VDny7-dKrc-AnYo8cHzuUpHwY6Mj1H8U7t9JNrQ6-GrRryuiMQqLaSAhWOOIPOpYGXlwX6puN8K66virOukOz-4jfR0sVj56vXCuxyO_4P_Z-INjWfiyNIlK_kUsGt98tPOhp-05GyIcwYvvj6Z8ws8W1G0UvZiImWNF9UheOWpkzt1nXNZHUxoLVO1Iewhfvf8qy5IXO0Y-oljvaJVsk_NeZgWF2Y%26sigh%3DLONQ_r2XeTKp0BMLetlEdlNgyAo%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee07ee4dd75cbfbd%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DiJnvc1vrqO7sHLc-4GpJo5MXnN0&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another video - with a bit of choreography.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGotV1d7vI/AAAAAAAAJwE/jpe2OKgaByw/s1600-h/024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337232530319732466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGotV1d7vI/AAAAAAAAJwE/jpe2OKgaByw/s400/024.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's a Small World.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337232520832714546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGosyflhzI/AAAAAAAAJv8/rAEM1P-yeDM/s400/025.JPG" border="0" /&gt;In her element on stage. She loves singing and dancing and performing. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGoshTJgiI/AAAAAAAAJv0/vmDwynD1iD0/s1600-h/028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337232516217143842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGoshTJgiI/AAAAAAAAJv0/vmDwynD1iD0/s400/028.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Cute little cowgirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGosbxgxBI/AAAAAAAAJvs/aHG4A2DVRg8/s1600-h/030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337232514733884434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGosbxgxBI/AAAAAAAAJvs/aHG4A2DVRg8/s400/030.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I sat down in the front to get some close up pics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGosIMCgoI/AAAAAAAAJvk/LeFuwN3B9pw/s1600-h/033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337232509476438658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGosIMCgoI/AAAAAAAAJvk/LeFuwN3B9pw/s400/033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At one point she spotted me and waved back. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226357563439474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGjGChruXI/AAAAAAAAJvc/eQGE3pIlDSU/s400/036.JPG" border="0" /&gt;All the kids on stage.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226020898856530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGiycWl3lI/AAAAAAAAJvU/npbmqLk_AS0/s400/037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226017032791058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGiyN82ZBI/AAAAAAAAJvM/WuCHFza4HfI/s400/038.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226009770747202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGixy5cZUI/AAAAAAAAJvE/VZruS0zofss/s400/039.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGixrNN2OI/AAAAAAAAJu8/eJsezocywus/s1600-h/041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226007706196194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGixrNN2OI/AAAAAAAAJu8/eJsezocywus/s400/041.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337225999940325058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGixORsDsI/AAAAAAAAJu0/xh4aFbEA9tg/s400/042.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337224854100189490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGhuhsHITI/AAAAAAAAJus/OgwmFmTpM74/s400/047.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337224851524671938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGhuYGD2cI/AAAAAAAAJuk/57pb43IUdMA/s400/058.JPG" border="0" /&gt;After the show was over, Astrid posed with one of her teachers Ms. Kimberly and some of her classmates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGhuBrOlWI/AAAAAAAAJuc/nZH7Pc5OmOg/s1600-h/059.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337224845506549090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGhuBrOlWI/AAAAAAAAJuc/nZH7Pc5OmOg/s400/059.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGht2jO9HI/AAAAAAAAJuU/nMxEVcHa8dQ/s1600-h/060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337224842520228978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGht2jO9HI/AAAAAAAAJuU/nMxEVcHa8dQ/s400/060.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Astrid posing with her friend Leah.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337224782658443314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGhqXjEmDI/AAAAAAAAJuM/_82pcExjpLk/s400/061.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Astrid posing with her friend Diego.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The school was closed for the day, for the recital. (Even daycare was not available in the afternoon, which is a bit annoying for working parents.) So I took the day off and we went to Amy's Playground (where Astrid had her birthday party) afterwards to play and spent the rest of the day together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/14001577-951818888409856344?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=8a502d418f03c60a&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ee07ee4dd75cbfbd&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/951818888409856344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=951818888409856344&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/951818888409856344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/951818888409856344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/astrids-multicultural-spring-recital.html' title='Astrid&apos;s Multicultural Spring Recital'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGtv1f6hoI/AAAAAAAAJxU/9l6ZuvavSpI/s72-c/007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-8618892826085958905</id><published>2009-05-07T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T17:36:01.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Korean language'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='German language'/><title type='text'>Starting to speak German</title><content type='html'>I've mentioned on my blog previously that we've tried to raise Astrid bilingual - English &amp;amp; German. However since my German is rusty and I've forgotten a lot of vocabulary words, and the predominant language spoken is English - Astrid would question her dad's spoken German.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Weinachten&lt;/span&gt;! It's Christmas" she would say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then U. would get down on himself for not speaking enough German to her on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that we have a German nanny that is changing fast and we're noticing that she's starting to not only understand German but also to speak it on her own (not talking about just repeating what was said back). And she's singing songs in German. Her nanny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beate's&lt;/span&gt; two kids also speak German so whenever Astrid is around they speak German to her. It's helping big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other morning I made Astrid breakfast and after she took her plate from me she said, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Danke&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Schoen&lt;/span&gt;!" (thank you). I wasn't expecting it and so after I got over my initial shock I said, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bitte&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Schoen&lt;/span&gt;" (you're welcome).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this morning she kept saying what I heard to be "moody". "Moody what?" I couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me, until she finally asked, "What's tired again?" Oh "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Muede&lt;/span&gt;"! That's German for "tired". Duh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got all excited and asked me to tell her more German words. So it became our little game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Auto - Car! she shouted.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deutsch - German!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Essen – Dinner! (close enough – the verb means to eat and the noun is food. Dinner is actually "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Abendessen&lt;/span&gt;".)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hund - Dog!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Katze - Cat!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Soenne&lt;/span&gt; - Sun!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's a start and I'm so happy to see it happening. I was worried that my being American and her not growing up in a household that spoke solely in German (to combat all the English she hears in school and outside of the home) would stunt her German development. Now I needn't worry because having a German nanny and her 2 German speaking kids is helping Astrid's German language development.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;However Astrid does claim to speak 4 languages: English, German, Spanish, and Korean.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I asked her what Korean words she knows - she was stumped. But then I remembered one:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"What does &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Bpobpo&lt;/span&gt; mean?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Grandma always says, 'Gimme a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Bpobpo&lt;/span&gt; '.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Kiss!" Astrid shouted.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ding ding ding. Correct! =) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-8618892826085958905?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/8618892826085958905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=8618892826085958905&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8618892826085958905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8618892826085958905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/starting-to-speak-german.html' title='Starting to speak German'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-8315242169282738167</id><published>2009-05-05T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T10:16:47.740-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='party'/><title type='text'>Sydney &amp; Brooke's birthday party</title><content type='html'>We were invited to Sydney &amp;amp; Brooke's birthday party.  My friend Beth had both her daughters on the same day.  That's right, they both have the same birthday!  So we made a trip down to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OC&lt;/span&gt; to see them and help them celebrate their birthday in the park.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211252200213666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVWyqcjKI/AAAAAAAAJt0/T-iXkLcCfrY/s400/003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a princess party.  Here the girls are walking with Princess Jazmin.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211120499843186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVPICoYHI/AAAAAAAAJts/zs8I3wQosCU/s400/005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid watching Sydney get her face painted and waiting for her turn.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211114929801746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVOzSoShI/AAAAAAAAJtk/LcZntV_-9fY/s400/012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a beautiful day for a kid's birthday party in the park.  The sun was out but it wasn't too hot.  Here the kids are sitting in a circle with Princess Jazmin as she plays with a puppet.  Look who's sitting next to the princess.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211115285771170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVO0nf86I/AAAAAAAAJtc/vpyj8d9A2cE/s400/013.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Had to tell the princess something.  It probably had to do with telling her she has puppets at home too.  The beautiful German inspired ones that her German nanny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beate&lt;/span&gt; made for her birthday. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211113116506834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVOsiTmtI/AAAAAAAAJtU/J_sRaTsniDI/s400/014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337211113573303474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVOuPNxLI/AAAAAAAAJtM/0srYC4in_yw/s400/017.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Cake time!  Cupcakes and birthday cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZoG58wI/AAAAAAAAJtE/JT_i1vTjzvE/s1600-h/019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210201394770690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZoG58wI/AAAAAAAAJtE/JT_i1vTjzvE/s400/019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sydney and Brooke blowing out their candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZngOSgI/AAAAAAAAJs8/fVg3r9-vDHA/s1600-h/022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210201232525826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZngOSgI/AAAAAAAAJs8/fVg3r9-vDHA/s400/022.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Astrid getting a crown painted across her forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZeRymVI/AAAAAAAAJs0/hFeOoEKV8p8/s1600-h/023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210198756071762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZeRymVI/AAAAAAAAJs0/hFeOoEKV8p8/s400/023.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sydney the birthday girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZNdkeQI/AAAAAAAAJss/DQHpfuA_Ivs/s1600-h/026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210194242074882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZNdkeQI/AAAAAAAAJss/DQHpfuA_Ivs/s400/026.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Astrid and Sydney played so well together.  I thought with the 1 year age difference they might not, but it really didn't seem to matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZHxfoCI/AAAAAAAAJsk/762KkcujR_w/s1600-h/027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210192715030562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGUZHxfoCI/AAAAAAAAJsk/762KkcujR_w/s400/027.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Two sweet girls.  Astrid had a great time and can't wait to play with Sydney again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/14001577-8315242169282738167?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/8315242169282738167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=8315242169282738167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8315242169282738167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/8315242169282738167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/05/sydney-brookes-birthday-party.html' title='Sydney &amp; Brooke&apos;s birthday party'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShGVWyqcjKI/AAAAAAAAJt0/T-iXkLcCfrY/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-1687528946671157842</id><published>2009-04-30T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T22:05:41.336-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bedtime'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snuggie'/><title type='text'>Discovered a new use for my Snuggie</title><content type='html'>Oh yes I did. I purchased a Snuggie. And I love being curled up in its soft, warm, goodness on chilly evenings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight Astrid was having a hard time falling asleep. So I had an idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Astrid? Do you want to sleep with mommy's favorite blanket?"&lt;br /&gt;Astrid: "Oh yeah."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Okay but you have to close your eyes and go to sleep okay?"&lt;br /&gt;Astrid: "Okay mommy!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Here's mommy's favorite blanket. It's called a Snuggie and it's really soft and will keep you warm and safe so you can go to sleep okay?"&lt;br /&gt;Astrid: "Oh it's so soft. Thank you mommy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five minutes later she was asleep. Thank you whoever invented the Snuggie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-1687528946671157842?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/1687528946671157842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=1687528946671157842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/1687528946671157842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/1687528946671157842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/discovered-new-use-for-my-snuggie.html' title='Discovered a new use for my Snuggie'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6918473524411525163</id><published>2009-04-30T21:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T21:51:07.120-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preschool'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vocabulary'/><title type='text'>"Opening" - Vocabulary &amp; preschool</title><content type='html'>While putting Astrid to bed tonight we were talking about looking for another preschool for her.  Her class has grown from around 15 kids to over 35.  They've added teachers, but it's just too many kids for a small school. More kids equals more noise, more aggression, and less individual attention. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been hearing "I don't want to go to school" from Astrid lately which has concerned me.  And tonight it was, "I don't like Pasadena Montessori School."  Yes, she loves to say all three words that make up her school's name.  Very sad for a preschool kid to already dread going to school.  So tonight I made up my mind to start looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although her preschool is right across the street from my office and is so convenient, I'll drive a ways to make sure she's thriving and happy in a better environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we were talking about that tonight at bedtime, and she smiled and asked if she would be going to a new school tomorrow.  I told her it would take some time to look at different schools, to meet the teachers, and to find a school with an opening for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which she responded, "Opening?  Like opening speech?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's 4 and talking about open speeches.  What a character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's hope I can find a school mid year with an opening for her and her opening speeches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-6918473524411525163?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6918473524411525163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6918473524411525163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6918473524411525163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6918473524411525163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/opening-vocabulary-preschool.html' title='&quot;Opening&quot; - Vocabulary &amp; preschool'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-1639725324322886071</id><published>2009-04-19T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T23:49:08.504-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy birthday'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Astrid (actual birthday)</title><content type='html'>Today is Astrid's actual birthday.  It was also our last morning staying at our Palm Springs vacation home that we were renting for the Coachella weekend.  U. got up early as usual and took the kids with him for morning coffee.  He let all 3 kids (Astrid and our nanny's 2 kids - Claire and Noah) pick whatever they wanted.  And back at the house we all sang happy birthday to Astrid who is 4 today.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788993752723650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOizxqe8MI/AAAAAAAAJzk/OEM4uKOfTcY/s400/404.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrid sitting in front of her birthday muffin with a lit #4 candle.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788990084379522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOizj_4c4I/AAAAAAAAJzc/herywKAZCP8/s400/046.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet little angel wearing her favorite rainbow shirt.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788989918200466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOizjYQwpI/AAAAAAAAJzU/tbtg411QjoQ/s400/047.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Looking at mama (me). You can see my reflection in the sliding glass doors.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788112945030466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOiAgZkJUI/AAAAAAAAJzM/Pl16Vc2GQvw/s400/051.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Taking a deep breath.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788109030154322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOiAR0L4FI/AAAAAAAAJzE/L5AWNLsnaS0/s400/052.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Blew out her candle and her wish comes true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOiAE-nFLI/AAAAAAAAJy8/zbGBqEPrElE/s1600-h/053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788105584219314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOiAE-nFLI/AAAAAAAAJy8/zbGBqEPrElE/s400/053.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; U., me and Astrid.  We are family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOh_pXPg7I/AAAAAAAAJy0/cgUudH0auHg/s1600-h/061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788098171339698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOh_pXPg7I/AAAAAAAAJy0/cgUudH0auHg/s400/061.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Enjoying eating and chatting with the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOh_abMDQI/AAAAAAAAJys/j-8_iyEHjsM/s1600-h/065.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337788094161358082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOh_abMDQI/AAAAAAAAJys/j-8_iyEHjsM/s400/065.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Using her butter knife upside down to cut with the dull side.  She wouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise and since it was her birthday no one argued with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhcYTM50I/AAAAAAAAJyk/FDqi4dK7m9U/s1600-h/068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337787492295567170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhcYTM50I/AAAAAAAAJyk/FDqi4dK7m9U/s400/068.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhcGLDM6I/AAAAAAAAJyc/OOiRx23IeQo/s1600-h/410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337787487429538722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhcGLDM6I/AAAAAAAAJyc/OOiRx23IeQo/s400/410.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We drove back home that morning and it was a scorcher.  I took Astrid with me to pick up some party supplies and she got an ice cream.  The deal was she had to wear her hat.  I'm always concerned about the sun and protecting her skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbkxvpRI/AAAAAAAAJyU/HRo8G5sm0Iw/s1600-h/408.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337787478465029394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbkxvpRI/AAAAAAAAJyU/HRo8G5sm0Iw/s400/408.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The birthday girl enjoying her sherbet ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbXsnshI/AAAAAAAAJyM/nCxzi8J55rs/s1600-h/412.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337787474953875986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbXsnshI/AAAAAAAAJyM/nCxzi8J55rs/s400/412.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; For dinner we asked Astrid where she wanted to go for her birthday dinner and she chose "The Coffee Table" her favorite restaurant in Eagle Rock.  She always gets a lemonade and either a grilled cheese sandwich or a cheese quesadilla from the kid's menu.  Today she got a special cupcake to blow out her candle after Mama and Papa sang happy birthday to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbNWFFOI/AAAAAAAAJyE/iPqjrH_HZgc/s1600-h/413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337787472174978274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOhbNWFFOI/AAAAAAAAJyE/iPqjrH_HZgc/s400/413.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Four candles to blow out this time.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337786981593910242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-pycC-I/AAAAAAAAJx8/HI5ALwYn1ak/s400/414.JPG" border="0" /&gt;It's her special day and it's not over yet with her upcoming birthday bash with her friends at an indoor playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-T5rrlI/AAAAAAAAJx0/mJVlJwyAOcA/s1600-h/422.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337786975718714962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-T5rrlI/AAAAAAAAJx0/mJVlJwyAOcA/s400/422.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Astrid painting on her easel that she got as a birthday present.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337786971728348978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-FCThzI/AAAAAAAAJxs/pkB4L9vKx44/s400/423.JPG" border="0" /&gt;The artist on her birthday.  She turned to her father and I and announced, "I'm an artist!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-NWmdXI/AAAAAAAAJxk/b3TVt5bywyw/s1600-h/079.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337786973960959346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg-NWmdXI/AAAAAAAAJxk/b3TVt5bywyw/s400/079.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The sun is starting to set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg94lsIBI/AAAAAAAAJxc/ypVLjAUq3BM/s1600-h/429.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337786968387100690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOg94lsIBI/AAAAAAAAJxc/ypVLjAUq3BM/s400/429.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Astrid sitting on her Papa's lap, winding down after a long day.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy birthday sweetheart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/14001577-1639725324322886071?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/1639725324322886071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=1639725324322886071&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/1639725324322886071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/1639725324322886071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-birthday-astrid-actual-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday Astrid (actual birthday)'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/ShOizxqe8MI/AAAAAAAAJzk/OEM4uKOfTcY/s72-c/404.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6795198506226855532</id><published>2009-04-19T14:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T14:10:07.999-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy birthday'/><title type='text'>Birthday Wishes for Astrid</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SeuTCLh6NHI/AAAAAAAAJkc/Ll0GDJmOEsU/s1600-h/Birthday+wishes+from+Bill+%26+Jill.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326512649959781490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SeuTCLh6NHI/AAAAAAAAJkc/Ll0GDJmOEsU/s400/Birthday+wishes+from+Bill+%26+Jill.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/14001577-6795198506226855532?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6795198506226855532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6795198506226855532&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6795198506226855532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6795198506226855532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/birthday-wishes-for-astrid.html' title='Birthday Wishes for Astrid'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy6aRa6fNpo/SeuTCLh6NHI/AAAAAAAAJkc/Ll0GDJmOEsU/s72-c/Birthday+wishes+from+Bill+%26+Jill.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-6837180786673306792</id><published>2009-04-05T15:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T16:01:46.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Star is Born - she loves to sing, dance &amp; act</title><content type='html'>Astrid woke up a little past midnight, and I could hear her singing "It's A Small World" from her bedroom. It's one of the songs she's practicing at school for her next recital. It's was the sweetest thing to hear her singing, but what in the world was she doing singing at midnight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she was done singing she came into the room to find me and started performing in front of the closet mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminded me how I need to record on my blog how much she loves to sing and dance and perform. She picks up songs quickly. And she's always doing commercials and skits in front of the mirror. For example: "This is how you brush your teeth." She acts out the entire scene in the bathroom mirror like she's acting in front of a camera. And she's always singing one song or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been singing to her since she was a newborn - and she picked up as soon as she was able to hum or sing along. Now she tells me not to sing, that she'll sing for me. She has no stage fright. She just loves performing on stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned in a previous post how much she loves her school recital and we recently enrolled her in a musical theatre class. They sing and dance and practice for a big performance on stage with costumes, typically a musical (like Annie). The class is called "Pop Star" which sounds awful, but after reading the description I knew it would be something that Astrid would really enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prior to the class "tryouts" I told her not to be shy (which she can be initially when she's confronted with a strange, new environment) and to sing out loud and dance just like she does at home. I needn't have worried because she did just fine and followed along with the other students. And she loved it of course and is looking forward to next week's class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's one of the youngest ones in her class so it'll be interesting to see what part she gets in the musical. Regardless it'll be so much fun to watch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-6837180786673306792?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/6837180786673306792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=6837180786673306792&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6837180786673306792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/6837180786673306792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/star-is-born-she-loves-to-sing-dance.html' title='A Star is Born - she loves to sing, dance &amp; act'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14001577.post-9098755905956879112</id><published>2009-04-04T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T23:25:08.855-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='update'/><title type='text'>What Astrid's saying &amp; doing at 3 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days old</title><content type='html'>Jotting down some of the latest things Astrid has been saying, and things I've been noticing about her that make this age (she's turning 4 later this month) unique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Astrid refers to her father and I as "Guys".&lt;br /&gt;"Guys! Guys! You know what?" "Whatcha doin' guys?" "Am I going with you guys?" "What are you guys talkin' about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Evidently she now knows what "cool" is.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking about something today and Astrid perked up and said, "Oh yeah that's cool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Questions, questions, and more questions.&lt;br /&gt;"Whatcha doin' Mommy?" "Why are you doing that?" "How come?" "Why? Why? Why?"&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's time to invest in that book - everything you always wanted to know about everything in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Astrid constantly repeats herself.&lt;br /&gt;It used to be the whining that used to drive her dad and I batty -but now it's the repeating. How many times can you ask the same question? All I can say is my daughter never tires of asking or saying the same thing again and again. It must be an age thing that reinforces something or other in that brilliant child brain of hers that never ceases to amaze me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Astrid's incredible memory.&lt;br /&gt;She'll bring up things that we did a long time ago that I even forgot about. It's one of those, "How do you even remember that?" kind of thing. She's like a sponge - absorbing everything - and we keep trying to fill that little brain with lots of learning. (We just enrolled her in a musical theatre class, and she's learning German with her German nanny. I love when she sings in German.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) She has quite an imagination.&lt;br /&gt;She makes up stories, or puts two and two together with such creative imagery. For instance we were watering our vegetable garden one morning and I saw a shoe foot print (obviously of an adult) and a little footprint which I thought might have been from a bunny rabbit. Astrid was so intrigued and had a million questions about who was stomping around in our garden. Later that day when I picked her up from school she was telling me a story about how the Easter Bunny Man was in our garden yesterday getting ready for Easter, and he was eating our seeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Making up stories that are the opposite of the truth&lt;br /&gt;Like tonight I saw her move her hand under the table, that was clearly holding a piece of pizza her Papa had cooked for her dinner. She looked at me and said, "I don't have pizza in my hand." So now whenever she tells me out of the blue she "didn't" do something, or "doesn't" have something - I know the opposite is true.&lt;br /&gt;I read about this developmental stage in children and recommendations include not accusing the child of lying. So we've been trying to reinforce the importance of "telling the truth", rather than "don't lie to me".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Astrid has no concept that there was a time before her.&lt;br /&gt;She saw a photograph taken in Hawaii of me and U., noticing it for the first time at my parent's place. "Hey that's you and Papa" she said. "Where am I?" she asked. "You weren't born yet," I tried to explain. She looked quite puzzled and asked, "Why not?"&lt;br /&gt;And tonight she asked me if I had installed the sprinkler in the yard and I told her no, that the people who lived in the house before us did. Somehow the conversation turned to Astrid as it has a way of doing when talking to a 3 year old, and she asked where she lived before this house. I told her that she's lived in our house her whole life, since she was born. Mama and Papa lived in other houses, but she has only lived in this house. She doesn't understand that there was ever a time when U. and I lived without her. Quite frankly it's hard to imagine it myself - a world without Astrid. I know it existed but it seems like eons ago, something that happened in the distant past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Tantrums when she doesn't get what we want&lt;br /&gt;There was a period there after the terrible twos (or whenever that period lasted) where tantrums were few and far between. I'm not talking being fussy - but the tantrums where whining turns into crying, and acting like a complete maniac. But now we've seen more of those tantrums appearing when Astrid doesn't get something that she wants. Sometimes she'll run into her room, slam her door and throw herself on her bed crying. Yeah I'm talking a 3 year old (not 13). It's hard not to laugh at her diva-ness.  Her feelings are easily hurt.  So U. tried this new technique that he read about - when your kid keeps asking you for something they can't have - write it down.&lt;br /&gt;For example, the other night Astrid wanted candy and no matter how many times U. said no and tried to distract her, nothing was working. So he tried the technique and told Astrid, "Let's write it down okay? And come back to it later if we forget." He literally wrote the word "Candy" down on the white board that's up on our fridge. Astrid was fine with this and then completely forgot about wanting candy. I have yet to try this - but I'm open to it if it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Becoming more and more independent&lt;br /&gt;"I wanna do it myself." "No, no...lemme do it." "I want to do it all by myself okay mom?" All things I hear more of more of each day.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty frequently whenever I bathe her, she will want to towel dry herself (even if I'm still in the bath washing my hair) and put on her pajamas. That and putting on her shoes are two things I allow her to do all on her own without any help.&lt;br /&gt;But when it comes to other things like brushing teeth etc. she can do it by herself and then I finish. (Just want to make sure she's brushing all corners and not missing a spot. Or in other instances just making sure she's taken care of properly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They grow up so fast...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14001577-9098755905956879112?l=babyastrid.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/feeds/9098755905956879112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14001577&amp;postID=9098755905956879112&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/9098755905956879112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14001577/posts/default/9098755905956879112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babyastrid.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-astrids-saying-doing-at-3-years-11.html' title='What Astrid&apos;s saying &amp; doing at 3 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days old'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10716790047260146358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18111011486385325500'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>