<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679</id><updated>2011-09-28T21:10:21.692-04:00</updated><category term='baby dolls'/><category term='communicating'/><category term='walking'/><category term='bath'/><category term='snacks'/><category term='Aunt Inez'/><category term='talking'/><category term='words'/><category term='food'/><category term='clarks'/><category term='grandkids'/><category term='cousins'/><category term='store'/><category term='Potty training'/><category term='slide'/><category term='memory'/><category term='Thumbelina'/><category term='feeding'/><category term='great grandma'/><category term='lottie mack'/><category term='vocabulary'/><category term='independent'/><title type='text'>Olivia - Daddy's Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-7684768803549148944</id><published>2011-03-26T05:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T06:15:42.555-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memory'/><title type='text'>Memory Like A Steel Trap</title><content type='html'>Not even 2 and a half yet, Olivia's memory is spot on. Short term memory, long term memory, it doesn't matter. She constantly talks about going to the beach (last June), seeing Elmo, Bert and Ernie at Sesame Place (last August), her birthday party and the people who were there (last October), and when Pop Pop Clark scared her with his mask (on New Year's day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now those things don't really surprise me that much because they were major events that really stood out to her. What impressed me most is what happened last week. Olivia and I went grocery shopping while Mommy was away in California. Before we left for the store, I told her where we were going and what items were on our list. While in the supermarket, Olivia asks, "Where you list, Daddy?" I took it out and said, "Here it is. You wanna make sure we got everything? Check it for me." She unfolds the list, looks at it (it's upside down, by the way), and says, "We need milk, pancakes, jello, snacks, bread, grapes..." My jaw dropped. She was really paying attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things like this make me really excited about her future, specifically her education. If she can memorize a grocery list at two years old, imagine what she can do by applying herself in school. Can somebody say scholarship? I'm hoping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-7684768803549148944?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7684768803549148944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/03/memory-like-steel-trap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7684768803549148944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7684768803549148944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/03/memory-like-steel-trap.html' title='Memory Like A Steel Trap'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-2334308009269942879</id><published>2011-02-14T17:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T08:35:59.872-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashes of Creativity</title><content type='html'>I've always thought of myself as a creative person. As a kid, I grew up playing music in church and making artwork and crafts all the time. As an adult, I enjoy photography, audio/video editing and dabbling in web design (hence OliviaClark.com). Although I've enjoyed expressing myself through my various projects over the years, I can't help but to wonder how much further down the road I could've been, if I had the chance to learn things earlier in life. Even being able to get formal training in music, photography and/or web design would've gone a long way with me. But, it is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for me, I have Olivia. I've noticed how much she loves to sing and her ability to sing on key. And although I'm not thrilled about her 'booty dance', she moves pretty well on beat. I can't even begin to explain how excited I was when I saw her draw her first (recognizable) picture of a face. It had two eyes, a nose, a mouth and even eyebrows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my hopes for Olivia is that we can share a common interest, and that I can teach her everything I know.  This way, whether she's into computers, music or anything else I'm into, she'll be much more advanced than I was. And if it's something that I'm not into (like booty dancing), I hope to support her by getting her the formal training she needs to be great at it.&lt;br /&gt;As long as it's not booty dancing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-2334308009269942879?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/2334308009269942879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/02/flashes-of-creativity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/2334308009269942879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/2334308009269942879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/02/flashes-of-creativity.html' title='Flashes of Creativity'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-4551198620082265552</id><published>2011-02-02T16:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T16:43:00.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Could We Be Diaper Free?</title><content type='html'>We're going on two weeks with Olivia wearing her 'big girl' underwear. And it's been three weeks without an accident at daycare. Just this past weekend (starting on January 28th to be exact) she's actually been telling me when she has to go. I can't remember when I last bought pull-ups. Has the moment finally arrived? Are we diaper free? When can we officially say that Olivia is potty trained?&lt;br /&gt;  She's so funny. When she has to go #2, she likes to have books to read. She'll read her books, do her thing and call me when she's done.  Well now it seems that she needs a book when she goes #1 as well. Yesterday, she jumped up quickly and says, "Daddy, I gotta go potty." I jumped up too, and started jogging right behind her down the hall. When we get to the end of the hall she makes a right into her bedroom and I make a left into the bathroom. I said, "Hey, where you going?"  She answers, "I gotta get my book!" Whatever keeps her going.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-4551198620082265552?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/4551198620082265552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/02/could-we-be-diaper-free.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4551198620082265552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4551198620082265552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2011/02/could-we-be-diaper-free.html' title='Could We Be Diaper Free?'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-2727394660799858698</id><published>2010-12-30T16:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T16:37:39.616-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Potty training'/><title type='text'>Patience Is A Virtue</title><content type='html'>My dear Olivia,&lt;br /&gt;You can tell me when you want:&lt;br /&gt;to eat,&lt;br /&gt;to drink,&lt;br /&gt;to color,&lt;br /&gt;to play in your room,&lt;br /&gt;to watch tv,&lt;br /&gt;to sit on the couch,&lt;br /&gt;to give me a hug,&lt;br /&gt;to take a nap (rarely),&lt;br /&gt;to get a snack,&lt;br /&gt;to put on your sneakers (or boots),&lt;br /&gt;to stay,&lt;br /&gt;to leave,&lt;br /&gt;to do things on your own,&lt;br /&gt;to get help,&lt;br /&gt;really.. to do about anything.&lt;br /&gt;Why, oh why, can't you tell me when you have to used the bathroom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-2727394660799858698?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/2727394660799858698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/12/patience-is-virtue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/2727394660799858698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/2727394660799858698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/12/patience-is-virtue.html' title='Patience Is A Virtue'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-4044947658157670732</id><published>2010-12-16T16:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T16:39:00.367-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mind Of Her Own</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I forget that she's only two years old. Olivia has no problem telling me what she wants, how she wants it, and what I need to do to get it done. &lt;br /&gt; Everyday after daycare when we get home, we go through the usually routine of going to the potty and getting a snack.  But for some reason she feels the need to remind me.&lt;br /&gt; "Daddy, I need my snack," she says.&lt;br /&gt; "I know, Livy. What would you like?"&lt;br /&gt; "Um.. Crackers. It's in the cabinet."&lt;br /&gt; "Ok," I reply.&lt;br /&gt; "Daddy, I need my juice, too. Apple juice. It's in the frigerator. Ok, Daddy?"&lt;br /&gt; "Yes Livy. Anything else, dear?"&lt;br /&gt; "Turn on the tv, please."&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I'm her butler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, I'm was getting her dressed in the morning. Her mom left out a solid pink shirt and a pair of pants with stripes on them.  Olivia stares at it and starts to look really concerned.&lt;br /&gt; She says,"Daddy, I don't want to wear that."&lt;br /&gt; "Why not? What's wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;  She looks at the shirt and says, "It doesn't match. There's no stripes on it."&lt;br /&gt;  I laughed and said, "No, it matches. Look, there's pink in the stripes on the pants."&lt;br /&gt;  I don't know if she trusted my judgement, but she wore the clothes anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I'm not that much of a fashionista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, Livy was in the kitchen helping her mom make a pizza.  She loved rolling out the dough and putting on the topping. Later, when it came out of the oven, her mom says to her, "Livy, you want to see the pizza you made?"&lt;br /&gt; Olivia quickly responds, "No, I want to eat it."&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, she thinks we have no common sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-4044947658157670732?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/4044947658157670732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/12/mind-of-her-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4044947658157670732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4044947658157670732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/12/mind-of-her-own.html' title='A Mind Of Her Own'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-5740671461707644419</id><published>2010-09-19T20:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T20:28:02.494-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Gotta Be The Shoes</title><content type='html'>Nearly two years ago, I was holding my new baby girl in the hospital. I imagined, as most new fathers do, about what would be her passion in life. Would it be music? Maybe a sport? Regardless, I knew that I would stand behind her and support her in any way I could.  Well, after a few hours at the mall with mommy, it seems that my nearly two-year old is into fashion. More specifically, shoes.  Be it boots (cowboy or rain), sandals, sneakers, or slippers, Olivia is willing to try them all on.  Thanks to the restraint of her mother, Olivia only came home with a new pair of boots, and the most girly princess slippers made in her size.&lt;br /&gt;So, as for now, instead of sitting in the bleachers cheering for my daughter in her favorite sport, or sitting in the audience while she sings or plays an instrument, I'll have to look forward to sitting on an uncomfortable bench in the mall, watching my little girl shop her heart out in every shoe store. Lord, help us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-5740671461707644419?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/5740671461707644419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-gotta-be-shoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/5740671461707644419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/5740671461707644419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-gotta-be-shoes.html' title='It&apos;s Gotta Be The Shoes'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-7176936471055346501</id><published>2010-06-20T21:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T21:22:53.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Say What?</title><content type='html'>From time to time people ask me, "Is Olivia talking, yet?"  I'm thinking, "Is she ever."  It's so amazing to think that just 20 months ago, she was so defenseless and fragile, and now she's running, jumping, and commmunicating so well.&lt;br /&gt;  The other day, I was sitting on the big green chair in her room and she comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, Daddy."  I thought that maybe I was sitting on one of her toys or something. But no. She just wanted me to get out of her chair so that she could sit there. My bad.&lt;br /&gt;  Just yesterday, I was getting Olivia dressed and I told her, "Maybe we should get your tricycle out and go for a ride."  She answered in an excited tone,"Ride? Outside?  I ride bike outside!"  I got excited too just because she understood exactly what was going to happen. Priceless.&lt;br /&gt;  And today, on Father's Day, without any warning, Olivia looked at me and said, "Love you, Daddy." And then she kissed me on the forehead.  My heart almost exploded.  Finally.  It's definitely special when your child hugs you or displays one of the many unspoken signs of affection, but to hear her say "love you" without having to say it first... that just takes it to a whole new level.  Best Father's Day ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-7176936471055346501?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7176936471055346501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/06/say-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7176936471055346501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7176936471055346501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/06/say-what.html' title='Say What?'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6243305820775623242</id><published>2010-05-10T16:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T16:24:00.060-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Potty training'/><title type='text'>Two Pees In The Pot</title><content type='html'>It's Friday afternoon, and Bre and I are in Babies R Us picking up some diapers, wipes and new drinking cups for Olivia. We roll around the aisle with the potties and decide to pick one out. Olivia just turned 19 month, so we weren't looking to go anywhere near full potty training mode.  We thought that since she's been letting us know when she needs to be changed and that she knows where the big potty is, it might be a good idea to get one so that she can get familiar with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Saturday morning.  Bre asks Olivia if she has to "pee pee", and in true Olivia form, she repeats "pee pee". But then she starts to pull down her pants. So Bre takes her to the bathroom to sit on the new potty. Apparently, Olivia needs the door to be closed in order to "go". I thought nothing of it until I hear Bre say, "Oh my God, Fred."  In true daddy form, I run frantically to find my camera. I get there in time to witness Olivia using the potty for the first time. I even got a picture of the pee. I don't know who would ever want to see it, but I got it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, cheering, kissing and praise followed the momentus occasion all morning long. We even gave her a "great job"sticker. It came with the potty.  But it was only one time... until it happened again that very night. I could finally see the light. Diaper days are coming to an end. What a glorious day that will be. Ok, so I'm getting ahead of myself.  But it was another major milestone that I got to witness. I've never been so proud to see urine in a plastic container in my entire life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6243305820775623242?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6243305820775623242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/05/two-pees-in-pot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6243305820775623242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6243305820775623242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/05/two-pees-in-pot.html' title='Two Pees In The Pot'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-7158670657577431103</id><published>2010-04-22T15:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T15:41:00.136-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby dolls'/><title type='text'>My Baby's Babies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/S9B1l6YmNPI/AAAAAAAAABg/mv7TzuUgUaE/s1600/Reading+to+the+babies+(1).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462995642188444914" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/S9B1l6YmNPI/AAAAAAAAABg/mv7TzuUgUaE/s320/Reading+to+the+babies+(1).JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Recently, Olivia has been really into caring for her baby dolls and teddy bears. She reads to them, burps them, and cleans up their messes. The other day, she says to me, "tissue". Although it's not unusual for her to tell me when she needs a tissue, I was curious to know why she'd ask for one if her nose wasn't running. So, I gave her one. She took the tissue and wiped the nose of one of her baby dolls. I thought it was the cutest thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every so often, Olivia will ask for a blanket for the babies. You never know when she'll have them take a nap. She lines up the babies faced down on the floor and gently places the blanket over them. While carefully rubbing and patting their backs, Mommy and I are told "shhh... baby sleepin'". It never lasts to long because they all have to have their diapers changed. (We had to keep her from using the real diapers.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cute to watch her interact with things and use her imagination, realizing that she's only doing the things that she sees us do for her. Children really are a reflection of their parents. I especially like that she gives a hug and a kiss to each doll (one at a time) before she leaves for daycare each day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-7158670657577431103?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7158670657577431103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-babys-babies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7158670657577431103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/7158670657577431103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-babys-babies.html' title='My Baby&apos;s Babies'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/S9B1l6YmNPI/AAAAAAAAABg/mv7TzuUgUaE/s72-c/Reading+to+the+babies+(1).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-8183651857710895030</id><published>2010-03-26T18:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T20:35:07.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything You Can Do...</title><content type='html'>It hasn't even been a year and a half yet, and little Livy is trying to take on the world.  She's eating dinner with a fork (most of the time) and trying hard to put on her own socks and shoes.  While carrying her to and from the car, she often asks to "walk". She's even assisted her daddy in taking out the trash and recycling a few times.  What happened to our little baby? Honestly though, I really enjoy watching her flex her independence.  She wants to do so much, and I think she will. I just hope I can keep up with writing down all of these milestones as they happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-8183651857710895030?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/8183651857710895030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/03/anything-you-can-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/8183651857710895030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/8183651857710895030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/03/anything-you-can-do.html' title='Anything You Can Do...'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6217216422333375892</id><published>2010-02-22T16:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T16:52:00.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bath'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='slide'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feeding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='independent'/><title type='text'>Ms. Independent</title><content type='html'>Last week, Bre was about to serve up some delicious pancakes for Olivia's breakfast. While we normally let Olivia feed herself, it's better for all of us if WE feed her the pancakes, (otherwise, the syrup gets everywhere). But, of course, Little Livy wasn't having it. She refused to open her mouth unless she got to hold the fork and feed herself. So she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the week, Olivia is getting a scrub down in the bathtub.  As Bre is washing Olivia's hair, Olivia picks up the washcloth and begins to re-wash her arms, legs and toes. I guess mommy missed a spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the weekend, we took Olivia to Jellybean Jungle (an indoor play area for children 5 years and under) for a playdate with Christian.  After going down the slide backwards on her stomach so many times before, she finally went down the slide all by herself facing forward.  It was a proud moment.  Now, she is only 16 months old, but we've come to realize that she's not a baby any more. It's a good thing I took all those pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6217216422333375892?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6217216422333375892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/02/ms-independent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6217216422333375892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6217216422333375892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/02/ms-independent.html' title='Ms. Independent'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6607408040873422123</id><published>2010-02-10T17:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T18:02:45.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snacks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Snack Attack</title><content type='html'>So, with another big snow storm on its way, I decided to pick up Olivia from daycare and stop by the grocery store to pick up a few items. Now normally, as soon as Olivia and I get home, she has a snack and a juice cup while unwinding with some Nickelodeon. Apparently, my lovely daughter was fiending for her snacks in the worst way. While I'm pushing the cart, Olivia repeatly says, "Snack, snack, snack." I answer, "You gotta wait until we get home, Livi." She wasn't having it. She got louder and louder down each aisle, so I pushed faster and faster down each aisle. I guess she didn't believe me when I told her that I didn't have any snacks, because she started pulling at my coat pockets in search of some Teddy Grahams, animal crackers, Elmo snacks, or something. I picked up some gold fish crackers and fed them to her while in the check out line, heading to the car, and driving home. So, I learned a valuable lesson that day, which is, if I don't plan on going straight home after picking Olivia up from daycare, then I'd better have some snacks on hand or things will get pretty ugly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6607408040873422123?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6607408040873422123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/02/snack-attack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6607408040873422123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6607408040873422123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/02/snack-attack.html' title='Snack Attack'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6729693676258275645</id><published>2010-01-14T16:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T16:48:00.141-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vocabulary'/><title type='text'>So Much To Say</title><content type='html'>So, we took Olivia to get her 15 month check up last night, and the doctor is asking some basic questions about her development. One of the questions she asked was, "Is she talking with a vocabulary of six or more words?"  I'm thinking to myself, "Six or more? Please! It's gotta be somewhere between 20 and 30 words. HA!"&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, I start to think about all the words Olivia can say. Not ones that she can repeat after us, but the words she knows, understands and uses to communicate on her own. Bre and I finished with 44 words! Amazing. But how amazing is it?&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm on the web researching how many 15 month olds have a vocabulary of 40 or more words.  It just so happens that only 25-27% of children her age are able to use that many words. It was a proud moment.  Reading to children at an early age really works.  I'm excited to see how this will translate into her success in school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6729693676258275645?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6729693676258275645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-much-to-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6729693676258275645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6729693676258275645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-much-to-say.html' title='So Much To Say'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-1458659667716359974</id><published>2010-01-02T10:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T10:19:38.948-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='communicating'/><title type='text'>Communication Is Key</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I haven't written in this blog for a while, but hopefully I can keep up this year.  Olivia is communicating with us very well. She says "food" when she's hungry, "snack" when she wants a snack, "cup" when she wants a drink, and now she's saying "poop" or "pee pee" when she needs to be changed.  Her vocabulary is growing each day, which makes it a little easier for everyone.  We're able to give her exactly what she needs and in return, she doesn't have to cry or wine because no one is able to understand her.  This also means, however, that we have to watch what we say around her, because everything gets repeated.&lt;br /&gt;2010 will be a very exciting year for Olivia. As she starts to understand the world around her, it'll be fun to watch her learn. Stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-1458659667716359974?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/1458659667716359974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/01/communication-is-key.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/1458659667716359974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/1458659667716359974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2010/01/communication-is-key.html' title='Communication Is Key'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-1953618148957168157</id><published>2009-07-08T14:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T14:08:05.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing Tall</title><content type='html'>Livy is really on the move. She's pulling up on furniture (and the walls) all the time. She's now taking "baby steps" from one piece of furniture to the other. Once she gets that balance thing to together, she'll be off to the races. Yesterday, Bre and I were on the floor with her. We tried to see how long she could keep her balance. And the new record is 10 seconds! I cheered so loud I think I scared her. It's a lot of fun to witness how much she's progressing. Just nine months ago, she was a little thing that stayed exactly were we put her. Now, we have to keep looking around to see where she ends up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-1953618148957168157?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/1953618148957168157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/07/standing-tall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/1953618148957168157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/1953618148957168157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/07/standing-tall.html' title='Standing Tall'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-211917646578114941</id><published>2009-06-17T15:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T15:29:01.577-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta Get On Up.</title><content type='html'>Things are moving right along with Little Livy.  Yesterday, Bre and I witnessed our daughter grab on to the coffee table and pull herself up to a standing position. She's only 8 months! What's going on.  Of course, I wanted to see it again, so I sat her down and sure enough she did it again.  So I looked at Bre and said, "I guess I have to drop the mattress in her crib to the lowest setting tonight." And it's a good thing I did because when I went into her room this morning, there she was standing there greeting me with a smile. Wow. I'm realizing that she'll be walking around at her own 1st birthday party.  Amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-211917646578114941?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/211917646578114941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/gotta-get-on-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/211917646578114941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/211917646578114941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/gotta-get-on-up.html' title='Gotta Get On Up.'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6520800504023949819</id><published>2009-06-07T18:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T18:47:22.948-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Livy's On The Loose</title><content type='html'>It's official...Olivia is crawling!  It's a good thing and a not so good thing.  After figuring out how to sit up on her own, it was only a matter of time. Today, as she turned 8 months old, Olivia crawled across the room several times.  So, Operation Baby Proofing is underway.  Mobility and curiousity is a dangerous combination, but it is so cute to see her scoot around the floor.  Only 8 months. I can just imagine what things will be like in another 8 months.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6520800504023949819?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6520800504023949819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/livys-on-loose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6520800504023949819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6520800504023949819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/livys-on-loose.html' title='Livy&apos;s On The Loose'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-6116140560190560980</id><published>2009-05-29T17:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T17:27:08.637-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sittin' Pretty</title><content type='html'>It was just a normal Friday afternoon. The wife and I were sitting in the living room talking about our day while Olivia was playing with her stuffed animals on the floor. Like clockwork, she began to get a little fussy signaling to us that she was in need of a nap. Mommy picks her up, places her in the crib, turns on the camera for the monitor and walks out. By the time she got back to the living room, she looked at the monitor and realized that little Olivia now knows how to sit up from her sleeping position. I looked at my wife and said, "We've probably got two good weeks before she's crawling. Game over."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-6116140560190560980?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6116140560190560980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/sittin-pretty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6116140560190560980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/6116140560190560980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/sittin-pretty.html' title='Sittin&apos; Pretty'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-4634296840873934572</id><published>2009-05-25T09:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T09:36:59.388-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thumbelina'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aunt Inez'/><title type='text'>Princess Thumbelina</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShqeA-hGOQI/AAAAAAAAABY/qjquNk8APoc/s1600-h/May-23-09+(1).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339754047820151042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShqeA-hGOQI/AAAAAAAAABY/qjquNk8APoc/s320/May-23-09+(1).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Aunt Inez is notorious for giving various family members a personalized nickname. I'm sometimes called Fred Sanford, BreAnne is Laurie Ann, and now Olivia has been official dubbed Thumbelina.  Whether she likes it or not, she will always be known as Thumbelina to her great aunt and "God-Grandmother" Inez McRae.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-4634296840873934572?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/4634296840873934572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/princess-thumbelina.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4634296840873934572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4634296840873934572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/princess-thumbelina.html' title='Princess Thumbelina'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShqeA-hGOQI/AAAAAAAAABY/qjquNk8APoc/s72-c/May-23-09+(1).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-5999502982659948921</id><published>2009-05-23T21:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T09:37:26.287-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lottie mack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='great grandma'/><title type='text'>Greeting Great Grandma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShimNNoL91I/AAAAAAAAABQ/-887gaAi8rk/s1600-h/Tiffany+and+Willie%27s+Graduation+Party+(101).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339200104174450514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShimNNoL91I/AAAAAAAAABQ/-887gaAi8rk/s320/Tiffany+and+Willie%27s+Graduation+Party+(101).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, Olivia was introduced to her 91 year old great grandmother, Lottie Mack. This is the second of four great grandmothers Olivia has actually met (She met Evelyn Jackson on November 16th). This meeting was way different than the first. As soon as I walked through the door with Olivia in my arms, my grandma said to me, "How did that baby come out so light and you so dark?" I replied, "Because her mom is white, grandma." She said, "Oh."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She looked a Livy later on and said, "Good thing you ain't as dark as your daddy." There's no beating around the bush with Lottie Mack. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma asked me how old Olivia was, I said "7 months" and she said that the next time I visit I should bring my next baby. I said, "Well, I guess I won't be back for a couple of years, then."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-5999502982659948921?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/5999502982659948921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/greeting-great-grandma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/5999502982659948921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/5999502982659948921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/greeting-great-grandma.html' title='Greeting Great Grandma'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShimNNoL91I/AAAAAAAAABQ/-887gaAi8rk/s72-c/Tiffany+and+Willie%27s+Graduation+Party+(101).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-3948392144347885961</id><published>2009-05-18T08:31:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T09:37:55.264-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandkids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cousins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clarks'/><title type='text'>Capturing The Clark Cousins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShFWVwbmc7I/AAAAAAAAABI/ekh2KTNDqSg/s1600-h/Clark+Cousins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337141965188658098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShFWVwbmc7I/AAAAAAAAABI/ekh2KTNDqSg/s320/Clark+Cousins.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, my brothers and their families came over to my house for a photo op with all 5 of the Clark cousins. There's Azjonnna (7 yrs.), Faith (3yrs.), Chris Jr. (10 mos.), A.J. Jr. (8 mo.) and Olivia (7 mo.). Although trying to get the perfect picture with 3 babies and 3 year old isn't the easiest thing in the world, it sure felt good to see them all together knowing that the photos I took will mean a whole lot more to them when they get older. We took quite a few breaks for naps, feedings and diaper changes, but in the end, we got some good ones. I'm hoping we can do this at least once a year. But next time, we're doing it at somebody else's house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-3948392144347885961?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/3948392144347885961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/capturing-clark-cousins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/3948392144347885961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/3948392144347885961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/capturing-clark-cousins.html' title='Capturing The Clark Cousins'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/ShFWVwbmc7I/AAAAAAAAABI/ekh2KTNDqSg/s72-c/Clark+Cousins.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-4199792013596917764</id><published>2009-05-14T19:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T09:38:15.093-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='walking'/><title type='text'>Walk On By</title><content type='html'>They say that some babies skip crawling and go straight to walking. I think I may have one of those babies. Olivia has no desire to get down on all fours. She's already starting to pull up and is always trying to escape from my lap as if she's been walking for months. Today I held her hands and we walked from her bedroom to the living room. She just knew to put one foot in front of the other. She was just giggling and shrieking the whole time. Next thing you know, I'll be telling her not to run in the house. Maybe I'll install some speed bumps?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-4199792013596917764?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/4199792013596917764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/walk-on-by.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4199792013596917764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/4199792013596917764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/walk-on-by.html' title='Walk On By'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9081533042958373679.post-879914785890088667</id><published>2009-05-12T19:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T19:53:35.864-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Livy's Getting Big.</title><content type='html'>Olivia is growing so fast. It's only been seven months since she was born. Where did the time go?  We've gone up two diaper sizes and a lot of her clothes are already too small.  She's a lot more animated and I think she recognizes the camera enough to know to smile.  Livy isn't crawling just yet, but it won't be long.  She's ready to be out and about. I think I'm going to have to nail everything 3 feet off the ground.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9081533042958373679-879914785890088667?l=oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/879914785890088667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/livys-getting-big.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/879914785890088667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9081533042958373679/posts/default/879914785890088667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oliviaisabelleclark.blogspot.com/2009/05/livys-getting-big.html' title='Livy&apos;s Getting Big.'/><author><name>Olivia's Dad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10111260148521204963</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0he_gjeDBks/SgmqdjHoO5I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0xR4MOjb6jA/S220/May+8.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
