<?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-7576061</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:55:29.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Expecting Daddy</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7576061.post-109320501931786850</id><published>2004-08-22T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-25T17:21:23.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Truck One Liners</title><content type='html'>Heaven can wait drive safely, Batesville Casket Company&lt;br /&gt;Batesville, TN-truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109320501931786850?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109320501931786850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109320501931786850' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109320501931786850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109320501931786850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/08/truck-one-liners.html' title='Truck One Liners'/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7576061.post-109270134095693163</id><published>2004-08-16T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-16T17:09:00.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NewSong </title><content type='html'>This was my first NewSong and also my babies (even though she is still in mommies belly). Friday night we were standing right in front of the left stage speakers, and right behind us was a group of pre-teen/teenage girls. Now in all honesty I really think that these girls were screaming loud enough to drown out the speakers. While we were sitting on our blanket after the first group had their set I thought about the baby. I figured that the baby would either be deaf, hate rock n' roll, or just absolutely love rock n' roll.(I hope it is the latter) I did joke about the baby being able to move now and was able to cover it's little ears because the music, and screaming was too loud (after all hearing is supposed to be developed). Maybe she wasn't covering her ears though, maybe she was jumping around (that would explain why mommy was a little sore Saturday).&lt;br /&gt;To more family NewSongs,&lt;br /&gt;Expecting Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109270134095693163?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109270134095693163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109270134095693163' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109270134095693163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109270134095693163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/08/newsong.html' title='NewSong '/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7576061.post-109270003577966948</id><published>2004-08-16T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-16T16:50:10.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Thai Guy</title><content type='html'>My wife and I went to the local grocery store to get some necessities for an outdoor concert that we were going to attend. One of the items that is a must have at an outdoor concert was a watermelon (of course). I picked up a nice looking, good thumper of a melon; when all a sudden this little old Asian man walked by. (By the way for those that do not know you pick out a watermelon by thumping it). After asking if we picked out a seedless watermelon, he preceded to tell us why, &lt;em&gt;"seedless is betta!!!"&lt;/em&gt; I made the mistake of telling him that we had chosen a seeded watermelon. Well it all went down hill from there. Turns out this man was a "watermelon expert," (I had no idea there was a such thing). Come to find out the reason that seedless was really better was because he had a cousin (or other relative) that was eating a seeded watermelon by himself and the seed got stuck in his mouth and he died. He continued on for a good twenty minutes or so, and I realized that he was not going to leave until he saw us put the melon back and get a seedless one. I really wanted a seeded watermelon though, so as soon as he rounded the deli I put the seedless back and picked up the seeded one again. This happened on a Thursday and it is now Monday and I still haven't eaten the melon. I thought to myself that night and while I was at the concert if &lt;em&gt;The Thai Guy &lt;/em&gt;had&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;placed a curse on my melon.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just won't eat the melon by myself,&lt;br /&gt;Expecting Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109270003577966948?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109270003577966948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109270003577966948' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109270003577966948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109270003577966948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/08/thai-guy.html' title='The Thai Guy'/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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-7576061.post-109226631412804815</id><published>2004-08-11T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-11T16:54:45.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fathers Morsel of Wisdom </title><content type='html'>This weekend I participated in my brothers wedding. As I was preparing a speech for the toast a morsel of wisdom surfaced in my mind. I doubt that my &lt;em&gt;father&lt;/em&gt; ever thought that his little saying would end up meaning so much. Like any other siblings we rarely fought or argued. When we did fight my dad would always say, &lt;em&gt;"the only thing that you two&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;have is each other."&lt;/em&gt; When I was young I didn't understand what dad was telling us, but now as I look back at life growing up in the military I understand that &lt;em&gt;the only thing that we had was each other&lt;/em&gt;. My dad gave me that bit of wisdom and I hope to pass that on to my children. Now my brother may go his separate way, but he is still the only brother that I have, and I am proud to call him my brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you dad,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Expecting Daddy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109226631412804815?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109226631412804815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109226631412804815' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109226631412804815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109226631412804815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/08/fathers-morsel-of-wisdom.html' title='A Fathers Morsel of Wisdom '/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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-7576061.post-109105800778664489</id><published>2004-07-28T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-28T16:42:44.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting Room experiences </title><content type='html'>Dr. Office visits are interesting experiences. &lt;em&gt;Expecting Fathers&lt;/em&gt; sit and wait next to their anxious&amp;nbsp;wives in the waiting area. Finally a nurse peaks around the corner and calls her back. The excited father jumps to his feet to rush back to the exam room with the &lt;em&gt;expecting mother&lt;/em&gt; only to be told, "&lt;em&gt;not yet&lt;/em&gt;..." He sinks back in his seat with a sigh and picks up a magazine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a urine test, and weighing her&amp;nbsp;they came back to get me (finally), &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Expecting Daddy&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109105800778664489?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109105800778664489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109105800778664489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109105800778664489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109105800778664489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/07/waiting-room-experiences.html' title='Waiting Room experiences '/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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-7576061.post-109019943978806569</id><published>2004-07-18T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-18T18:12:34.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Mommy Moments </title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is something only the family could find funny, but I think that I will share. Mommy had just bought these brand new maternity jeans and was trying them out (she liked the look and the feel until she got the feeling). These jeans had a draw string that mommy had tied in a bow, but in all the potty commotion the bow that was tied turned into a knot. She cried out to her mother to help her, and ran to the kitchen. Her mother began to try to take the knot out, and told her that she was not supposed to tie them in a knot. Mommy said, "I did not tie them&amp;nbsp;in a knot I tied them in a bow,&amp;nbsp;and she began to sing, "&lt;em&gt;do your ears hang low do they wobble to and fro, can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow...&lt;/em&gt;" This tickled both of them, but then mommy cringed with pain as if she felt a little trickle trying to make its way down her leg. It took a pair of daddies (hers and myself), a pair of needle nosed pliers, and a finger nail clipper, but we got the knot out before the trickle ran. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for More Funny Mommy Moments, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Expecting Daddy&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-109019943978806569?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/109019943978806569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=109019943978806569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109019943978806569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/109019943978806569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/07/funny-mommy-moments.html' title='Funny Mommy Moments '/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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-7576061.post-108933165169379535</id><published>2004-07-08T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T17:15:18.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nine weeks waiting </title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the first day that I saw you. You made so many questions run through my mind, but the answers didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was your mom (who was laying on the exam table), and you. It was such a wonderful feeling seeing you, and I do not even know who you are. The nurse labeled you as "baby", but there is no name for you. You will eventually have a name, but right now that does't matter because I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, &lt;br /&gt;The Expecting Father&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7576061-108933165169379535?l=expecting_daddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/feeds/108933165169379535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7576061&amp;postID=108933165169379535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/108933165169379535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7576061/posts/default/108933165169379535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://expecting_daddy.blogspot.com/2004/07/nine-weeks-waiting.html' title='Nine weeks waiting '/><author><name>Expecting Daddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15370186185845999202</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>
