<?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-28330271</id><updated>2011-05-02T14:00:51.027+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Year 2</title><subtitle type='html'>On caring for my daughter during her second year</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-8166979697243585005</id><published>2007-04-18T23:15:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T23:18:59.535+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>J. said that she stood for a second yesterday. Today after her shower (which she hated, oh well) she was trying to stand up on the bed-- not doing badly. I can see how she can suddenly almost balance herself. I was delighted, she was delighted, and we spent 15 minutes giggling and laughing as she almost stood up, then fell down again onto the bed. She knows she can nearly do it, and she's very </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/8166979697243585005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=8166979697243585005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8166979697243585005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8166979697243585005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/05/j.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-5464090139664789594</id><published>2007-03-21T22:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T22:17:47.022+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>She stood up this morning. It was very brief, less than a second, on the bed after her bath. She's been trying to stand from plantigrade for a while, but usually her bum is going down as her torso rises. Not today - she stood slightly crouched, not straight backed or legged, just like little kids do.I'm sure the knows when she's pooed. Today she said "up" to me, then took off towards her room. I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/5464090139664789594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=5464090139664789594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5464090139664789594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5464090139664789594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/03/she-stood-up-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-4875676343468367256</id><published>2007-03-16T22:09:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T13:25:21.334+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>   Very happy girl  Originally uploaded by eleanor alice. Learned some new signs from ellie this morning.She's been putting her thumbs together and bouncing them alot recently; neither my partner nor I could figure out what it meant. Turns out it's banana. She's changed the sign she's using for it; before she was pointing one thumb straight up and the other orthogonal to it-- a much better </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/4875676343468367256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=4875676343468367256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/4875676343468367256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/4875676343468367256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/05/very-happy-girl.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/225/493539174_557bd6b2f7_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-6841455286449702641</id><published>2007-03-15T22:03:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T22:04:14.109+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>She was up late with her teeth, up early yesterday morning for whatever reason, then didn't sleep properly before lunch. She's been very rambunctious.She wouldn't go to sleep this morning-- well, she did, but she woke up and cried. I should have left her, but I got her up and rocked her some more. She was tired, but didn't settle. So I put her in her cot. She started screaming, and screamed for </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/6841455286449702641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=6841455286449702641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6841455286449702641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6841455286449702641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/03/she-was-up-late-with-her-teeth-up-early.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-8082074140788234360</id><published>2007-03-09T21:59:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T22:00:02.240+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>   Ready to go out  Originally uploaded by eleanor alice. A few amusing things today.I told her we were going out. She put on her hat and her purse, and said "Up!"J. said she took 2 unaided steps (from the coffee table to the sofa, where J. was). And she seemed pleased with herself.She seems to be less resistant going to sleep. She tries to distract me though-- "Eat!", "Wiggles", "Hat" -- I just </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/8082074140788234360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=8082074140788234360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8082074140788234360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8082074140788234360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/05/ready-to-go-out.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/215/493538948_f122a7bf71_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-6491542022656889195</id><published>2007-03-07T21:21:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:21:36.270+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie is mostly feeding herself now. She still uses her hands when we don't object (or aren't watching), but she's become quite good with the spoon.Some habits of mine just kind of drop away. I used to read more books to her, and since we moved the reading chair, I read less-- and I forgot about all the books for older children, still on the other room, that I used to read for her.She's doing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/6491542022656889195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=6491542022656889195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6491542022656889195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6491542022656889195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/03/ellie-is-mostly-feeding-herself-now.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-5204459316151619458</id><published>2007-03-06T21:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:18:20.564+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Some more sadness. At the DSAV fun day I saw lots of older children, and young men/women with Down Syndrome. Mostly this was encouraging, the "It will all work out ok" kind of reassuring thoughts. But I think of my nephew, who's using full sentences at 2 and a bit, and I want Ellie to be clever, and witty, and to learn things quickly. I hope she'll be ok, but there's not much I can do to make it </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/5204459316151619458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=5204459316151619458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5204459316151619458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5204459316151619458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/03/some-more-sadness.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-5122635534015464945</id><published>2007-02-28T21:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:16:13.537+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Morning was nice. Bath, playing, fun. She was grizzly after her morning sleep, and her nose was a bit runny. I tried to comb her hair as she was eating her lunch and she got very upset; was making choking sobs really quickly. Normally she'd scream and cry, but this seemed much worse.She was very fragile all day. She woke up just after I'd put her down for her afternoon sleep and didn't cry </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/5122635534015464945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=5122635534015464945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5122635534015464945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/5122635534015464945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/02/morning-was-nice.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-8416208938463969358</id><published>2007-02-23T21:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:12:37.007+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie did walkies today! Not independently, but she walked holding my hands. Usually she just collapses when I help her to stand on the floor-- she's not interested. I got a repeat a bit later to show Granny and Poppy. I really hope this means she'll learn to walk soon-- I think she'll really enjoy it. And I love the idea of going for a walk with her in the park, holding my hand.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/8416208938463969358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=8416208938463969358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8416208938463969358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/8416208938463969358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/02/ellie-did-walkies-today-not.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-2559102818309815038</id><published>2007-02-21T21:10:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:11:54.386+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Some new signswiggles -- she sort of twists both wrists with her hands splayedwatermelon -- both hands up to her mouthThere's a couple of other deliberate signs she's doing, but neither J. nor I have figured out what she means yet.She did "drink" for the first time the other day-- it's been so hot, I'm not surprised. But it does emphasise that she'll learn them or use them when she needs to-- and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/2559102818309815038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=2559102818309815038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/2559102818309815038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/2559102818309815038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/02/some-new-signs-wiggles-she-sort-of.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-6312859547032513138</id><published>2007-02-14T13:46:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T18:31:32.489+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The last few days Ellie has figured out her spoon a lot more. She is now often holding it perpendicular to her mouth, rather than parallel, so she can eat the food properly. She seems also to have figured out what the right way round for a spoon to be is. This morning she was holding a spoon in either hand, one the right way round, the other upside-down. She looked from one to the other a bit, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/6312859547032513138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=6312859547032513138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6312859547032513138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/6312859547032513138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/02/2007-02-14-last-few-days-ellie-has.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093790410633322</id><published>2007-02-06T23:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:31:44.106+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>She's become quite enamoured of hats. She puts them on (properly) when she finds them on the floor. She likes to take them off and throw them away when we're out walking, but I'm sure that's just attention getting. Last night she grabbed a hat when I picked her up to rock her to sleep. She put it on and lay down on my shoulder. She grabbed it back when I tried to take it off her, so it's in her </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093790410633322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093790410633322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093790410633322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093790410633322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/02/shes-become-quite-enamoured-of-hats.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093777174964740</id><published>2007-01-29T23:29:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:29:31.750+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Was looking over some pictures I took at the zoo. She looks very Downsie in them. I don't like those pictures. Perhaps I should get used to it. Perhaps she'll look more "Downsie" as she grows older. My favourite pictures of her show what's inside-- glee, curiosity, delight. I wonder what people who wander by when she's looking Downsie think? It's so recognizable, and it makes for easy </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093777174964740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093777174964740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093777174964740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093777174964740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/was-looking-over-some-pictures-i-took.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093755857412736</id><published>2007-01-23T23:24:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:25:58.576+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What I like about being the homemaker knowing what stage different activities are at not running out of stuff, cause I maintain the shopping list when something is near to finishingwalking in the parkhanging up laundrypicking ellie up after she wakesstacking the dishwasher my wayhaving a bit of time to reflect and writeplanning the day, and mostly being able to achieve the planshopping with </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093755857412736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093755857412736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093755857412736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093755857412736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/what-i-like-about-being-homemaker.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093743817026167</id><published>2007-01-23T23:23:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:23:58.173+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've got some Wiggles songs on my phone that I play for her when she's going to sleep. She's always been interested in the phone-- she turns it round and round, and holds it up to her ears, and shakes it, and waves it about. I think she likes that music comes out of it-- more than one of her rattles, say.We've invented a new game with the phone. She puts it down the neck of my t-shirt, and smacks</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093743817026167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093743817026167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093743817026167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093743817026167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/ive-got-some-wiggles-songs-on-my-phone.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093721823812627</id><published>2007-01-18T23:19:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:20:18.236+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Last night we played a guess which hand has the grape game. She caught on reasonably well, and giggled a lot.She got a new Wiggles DVD, and held it till we got to the cashier, looking at it-- obviously recognising it, and excited. She knows when things are for her-- Xmas was nice in that way.Dancing to the wiggles is really good for her. She stands up for almost a whole movie (40 mins), and moves</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093721823812627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093721823812627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093721823812627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093721823812627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/last-night-we-played-guess-which-hand.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093710462533560</id><published>2007-01-12T23:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:18:24.626+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One of the most amazing things about little babies is their person-ality. I've been organising some of our photos, and Ellie's personality just shines through. I think, though I can't be sure, that this is something that's really only apparent to people who're close to the child. Other people's babies are annoying, or boring, but every small change in our baby is indicative of a rich inner life. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093710462533560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093710462533560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093710462533560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093710462533560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-of-most-amazing-things-about.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093704225323124</id><published>2007-01-11T23:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:17:22.253+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie has changed her style of typing on the laptop. She used to bang on the keys with her fists, now she moves her hands over the keyboard quite gently-- not even depressing the keys. Probably a better imitation of what she sees us doing.She has a pink hat that she really likes. [pic] She'll put it on by herself, and even straighten it. It takes a few tries-- she still tries to put it on upside </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093704225323124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093704225323124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093704225323124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093704225323124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/ellie-has-changed-her-style-of-typing.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093691768410496</id><published>2007-01-01T23:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:15:17.686+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today Ellie stood up by herself. I missed it (my partner told me), but it should soon happen again.I often play mp3s from my cell phone to put her to sleep. Today she really wanted to hold it, so I let her. She held it up to her ear, and settled down. I turned the volume down a bit. She had quite a grip on it. Very cute.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093691768410496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093691768410496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093691768410496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093691768410496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2007/01/today-ellie-stood-up-by-herself.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093687725484599</id><published>2006-12-23T23:14:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:14:37.256+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie has been saying "ite, ite" for christmas lights.She's been pulling herself up on everything (including bathroom drawers which then close on her, trapping her arms). She stands up in her crib when I get her up after her sleeps. It's very adorable-- she seems so much more independent, being able to stand, even though she still has to hang on to something. My little girl is growing up!She also</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093687725484599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093687725484599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093687725484599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093687725484599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/ellie-has-been-saying-ite-ite-for.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093675602051338</id><published>2006-12-15T23:12:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:12:36.020+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think I'm thinking in terms of activities that are too extended; 40 minutes rather than 10. But I'm not sure whether short, varied activities just encourage tiny attention spans. On the other hand, longer activities might be beyond the attention span of what is a little child.Of course, this is too simplistic. Cause when we play blocks, we're engaged with them for the duration, but it can be </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093675602051338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093675602051338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093675602051338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093675602051338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-think-im-thinking-in-terms-of.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093658957702514</id><published>2006-12-13T23:05:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:09:49.580+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Things I do with EllieOutside    go shopping    walk in the park    play on the swings    play in the sandbox    go to the library    go to early interventionInside    books    ball    blocks    play music    listen to music    bounce/climb    sort laundry    draw    paint    rocking horse    push tricycle    puppetsApart from feeding, changing, rocking to sleep,bathOther things I doplay </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093658957702514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093658957702514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093658957702514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093658957702514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/things-i-do-with-ellie-outside-go.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093632105056437</id><published>2006-12-07T23:05:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:05:21.050+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm bored by housework. And, sometimes, I'm bored by Ellie. Probably bored is the wrong word-- it's more that even when she's happily playing by herself, I can't get into anything interesting because she'll need something every few minutes. So it's more that she prevents flow. When I'm really playing with her, that's good time-- but I can't really do that all the time.There's not much I think </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093632105056437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093632105056437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093632105056437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093632105056437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/im-bored-by-housework.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093624998470500</id><published>2006-12-06T23:03:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:04:09.986+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie is getting up on her hands and feet spinning, and collapsing back down. She's doing it alot.Yesterday, she pulled herself up on the bath, on the big room coffee table drawer, me-- it's just becoming something she does all the time.She's following along songs -- "If you're happy and you know it" came on the stereo while I was changing her, and she started clapping her hands-- i hadn't even </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093624998470500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093624998470500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093624998470500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093624998470500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/ellie-is-getting-up-on-her-hands-and.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093605827608354</id><published>2006-12-01T23:00:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T23:00:58.276+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie's got some new sleep-resistant behaviours. When I'm rocking/bouncing/reading to her, she'll push away and try to get back to the floor. I let her get away with it the first few times, now I just hold her, and, sure enough, she goes to sleep. The other one is that, as soon as we put her down, she pops back up again, and wants to be picked up. We've usually thought that we had to pick her up,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093605827608354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093605827608354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093605827608354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093605827608354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/12/ellies-got-some-new-sleep-resistant.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093589232411108</id><published>2006-11-29T22:57:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:58:12.326+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Little girl was playing with me; she was supposed to be going to sleep, rocking on my knee. She'd put her head down for a few minutes, then Boing! Up, big smiles, and pushing away, trying to escape down my knee to the floor. I even fell for it the first couple of times, thinking she must not be that tired. But I held on to her, and after fighting a bit, she slept. Odd resistance.She says </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093589232411108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093589232411108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093589232411108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093589232411108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/11/little-girl-was-playing-with-me-she.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093582788198607</id><published>2006-11-17T22:55:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:57:07.883+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Before becoming a parent, I'd have put more emphasis on the yuckiness of the job; pooey diapers, messy eating, general chaos. That's really the easiest sort of stuff, just non-issues. I don't really spare much thought to any of that-- I just deal with it as needed. It's easy to be competent in making sure Ellie's clean and fed, that she's got clothes to wear; all the basic room and board sort of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093582788198607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093582788198607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093582788198607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093582788198607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/11/before-becoming-parent-id-have-put.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093570160966785</id><published>2006-11-10T22:54:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:55:01.610+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie has a new word - "hat".Her cousin who's 6 months younger is doing 4 point crawling, moving very well. Good for him, but it makes me sad.Ellie has a new cousin arriving in the next couple of days.She's got an annoying habit of throwing things. I'm probably a bad example; I tend to throw things into place rather than putting them there-- little games I play with myself.She's been sick </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093570160966785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093570160966785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093570160966785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093570160966785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/11/ellie-has-new-word-hat.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093547336204580</id><published>2006-10-24T22:49:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:51:13.363+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ellie was annoying me today. I'm afraid that I'll just stop loving her, that I'll just find her a drain, a boring and dopey waste of time. Today I was annoyed because she got upset when I got up from playing with her to go to the toilet. She whinged, then she came to see me. She was all happy, but I was annoyed, cause I just wanted a moment of peace-- on the can, for chrissakes. I hadn't closed </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093547336204580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093547336204580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093547336204580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093547336204580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/10/ellie-was-annoying-me-today.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093537891642536</id><published>2006-10-12T22:49:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:49:38.916+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think the heat is changing Ellie's sleeping habits. Yesterday her naps lasted only half of their usual 1.5 hrs, and she didn't got to sleep till about 10-- then she woke up before 7am this morning. Again she only slept for 45 minutes for a nap. She was also quite whingy in the morning-- screaming if I left the room. Probably over-tired, but hard to tell. When she sleeps longer, she seems to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093537891642536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093537891642536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093537891642536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093537891642536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-think-heat-is-changing-ellies.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-117093530734524436</id><published>2006-10-09T22:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:48:27.346+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lots of things are being put "in" -- pick up rattle, put it in the back of the toy truck. Wooden animals and blocks can go into the container for plastic blocks. Up and in seem to be the interesting things. Not much of "on" -- Queen ellie is still opposed to structures.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/117093530734524436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=117093530734524436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093530734524436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/117093530734524436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/10/lots-of-things-are-being-put-in-pick.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115891209950421202</id><published>2006-09-22T15:41:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T18:01:39.866+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Up" is relatively new. Ellie uses it in different contexts; she lifts her arms and says "up-up-up", to be picked up. She also likes reaching up to put blocks on the table, announcing "up" for each one. And when she's being lifted up to my shoulder from my lap she announces "up" for herself.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115891209950421202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115891209950421202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115891209950421202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115891209950421202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/09/up-is-relatively-new.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115881456685024882</id><published>2006-09-21T14:38:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T14:56:06.876+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm slowly realising how much freedom I have. Today we went to the library, for their "Tiny Tots" reading time. Ellie really enjoyed seeing all the other babies. She crawled up to a few and introduced herself. She's very social.Most of the children there were older, probably 2-3; they were following along in the story, and doing the actions for all the songs. I hope Ellie can do the same when </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115881456685024882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115881456685024882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115881456685024882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115881456685024882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-slowly-realising-how-much-freedom-i.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115858373886873693</id><published>2006-09-18T22:44:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T22:48:58.880+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The land of Queen Ellie has very strict zoning regulations. No towers of any height are allowed to stand. Should they be built, they are dashed to the ground, and the pieces spread out widely over the land. The rule applies equally to architectural marvels as well as to your everyday towers. Woe betide any elephants, tigers, monkeys, lions, zebra or giraffes that may be standing on top of them </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115858373886873693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115858373886873693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115858373886873693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115858373886873693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/09/land-of-queen-ellie-has-very-strict.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820689587758437</id><published>2006-09-14T13:57:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T14:08:15.906+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today I posted a bunch of entries which had been sitting on my computer since July, waiting for "some spare time". Yesterday I realised that I'm never going to get any spare time-- for blogging, for programming, for learning keyboards, for taking photos, for writing emails to friends; the time I have right now is the time I've got, so I just have to make better use of it. That's ok. So today </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820689587758437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820689587758437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820689587758437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820689587758437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/09/today-i-posted-bunch-of-entries-which.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820224272323541</id><published>2006-09-05T12:47:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T22:39:46.530+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ok, so there's not stacks of time to sit quietly and think on some aspect of the day. Ellie's just gone down for her late morning nap, so for a change, I'm going to try writing some stuff down rather than cleaning the kitchen and doing the laundry, which has been my normal morning routine. And it works-- but then there's no time for reflection really, or at least no time to record reflections.We </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820224272323541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820224272323541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820224272323541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820224272323541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/09/ok-so-theres-not-stacks-of-time-to-sit.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820200142581708</id><published>2006-08-21T12:45:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:46:41.443+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday we were walking in the park, her in the pram. I had it down so she could lie back-- i dropped the hat down for her to play with-- she put it above her head, where it stayed, because the pram was flat. She smiled up at me-- I'm sure she was happy cause she'd "put her hat on".She was delightful yesterday. We had a nice two hour walk in the park-- glorious day. We were looking for ducks. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820200142581708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820200142581708' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820200142581708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820200142581708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/08/yesterday-we-were-walking-in-park-her.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820058756454632</id><published>2006-08-14T12:22:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:23:07.566+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There's another little DS girl. Very cute, a few weeks younger than Ellie. She seems younger than that though, because she's developing more slowly. So I guess that's what retardation is, just slower development. But it doesn't make her any less lovely; I mean, you be with people where they are, not where you are. Most people seem retarded to me. It's boring.So there's all these people, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820058756454632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820058756454632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820058756454632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820058756454632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/08/theres-another-little-ds-girl.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820026798878628</id><published>2006-08-14T12:17:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:18:26.823+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm not yet in the habit of writing when I'm feeling like it, when lots of thoughts are tumbling around in my head in a way that writing helps to sort out.Today was the DS coffee group. I always find it somewhat confronting-- lovely people, most of whom are ahead on the journey, who've dealt with all sorts of things, and lovely kids, but all obviously afflicted, the way Ellie will one day </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820026798878628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820026798878628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820026798878628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820026798878628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-not-yet-in-habit-of-writing-when-im.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115820001722174730</id><published>2006-08-06T12:13:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:13:37.223+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not having a great time.She presents herself to me as a series of demands; feed me, change me, childproof the house, clean the floor where I'm crawling, clean the high chair, give me a bath, brush the hair out of my eyes, help me to sleep, entertain me. It's not her fault, of course, it's just my tendency to see the world as a series of demands, and be exhausted by the thought of them. It's not a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115820001722174730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115820001722174730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820001722174730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115820001722174730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/08/not-having-great-time.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115819988928655885</id><published>2006-07-28T12:10:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:11:29.286+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I feel very conflicted. I got a bit mad with Ellie because she wouldn't let me soothe her, so I thought, fine, let her cry. Put her into bed and walked away. I don't want her to need to be held to get to sleep, and I don't want her to think that she can just cry and we'll always pick her up. I want her to feel safe, loved and confident in her parents. I don't want her to feel abandoned, and sad. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115819988928655885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115819988928655885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819988928655885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819988928655885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-feel-very-conflicted.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115819974594014864</id><published>2006-07-19T12:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:09:05.940+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>By the end of the year, she'll probably be walking, sitting in her little chair, feeding herself lunch (albeit messily) and chatting a bit. We can go for walks in the park together, and she'll let me know when she's tired. We can draw things that we've seen, and practise letters.Wow.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115819974594014864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115819974594014864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819974594014864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819974594014864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/07/by-end-of-year-shell-probably-be.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115819957215460937</id><published>2006-07-13T11:59:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:07:22.643+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Stay at home fathers don't wear black.I've been thinking about mental retardation. What does it mean? How does it work? I can't make any sense of it. Slower to learn things; slower to change, to adapt, to grow. But what does it mean?She woke up last night in a very funny mood. She was just up for a drink, but she kept looking at me and giggling. Amazing smiles. She was sort of delighted, joyful, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115819957215460937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115819957215460937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819957215460937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115819957215460937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/07/stay-at-home-fathers-dont-wear-black.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-115336365420290655</id><published>2006-07-11T12:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T11:47:02.773+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[Context: I've quit my job to look after my (as of yesterday), 1 year old daughter Ellie.Ellie has Down Syndrome, which came as a surprise; yes, we were very upset, but we've mostly gotten over it (for now at least). She's magical, so that helps.My partner Jo has gone to a conference for a few days, so I'm alone with her for the first time...]I was worried that other people would think I hadn't </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/115336365420290655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=115336365420290655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115336365420290655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/115336365420290655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/07/context-ive-quit-my-job-to-look-after.html' title=''/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28330271.post-114796476131413767</id><published>2006-05-19T18:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T12:46:17.793+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Year 2</title><summary type='text'>Year 2 is my record of caring for my daughter Ellie, who will be 1 in early July.I'm hoping to record my reflections about my joys and frustrations as I learn to be the parent she needs me to be.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/feeds/114796476131413767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28330271&amp;postID=114796476131413767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/114796476131413767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28330271/posts/default/114796476131413767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://year-2.blogspot.com/2006/05/year-2.html' title='Year 2'/><author><name>gregor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11180383799477397590</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
