<?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-5244970874430008516</id><updated>2011-12-09T01:51:37.792-08:00</updated><category term='kids'/><category term='Parenting'/><title type='text'>My Life, My Kids, My World</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-3455485701226865693</id><published>2011-08-13T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T13:39:51.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nattu-isms</title><content type='html'>Been sometime since I posted about Nattu.  She is one witty girl whose response time to things is in microseconds.  We at times think... 'How does she come up with such responses'.  Here are a few instances&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cut watermelon and give a wedge to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: What should you tell me amma&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;(thinking 'shouldn't she be the one telling me thank you')&lt;/em&gt;: what should I tell you&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: you should tell me 'enjoy your watermelon nattu'&lt;br /&gt;Me ???&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do something for nattu which makes her so happy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: you are the second best mommy in this whole world&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;(feeling jealous and sad)&lt;/em&gt; who is the first best then?&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: Oh! that would be your mommy&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;(no arguing on that point)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu did not want to go to school one day. Since she had not missed even one day of school this year I tell her: 'Only three more weeks of school. You will get a certificate on the last day for perfect attendance.'&lt;br /&gt;Nattu(crying hard): 'All we will do is to hang the certificate on the wall. What am I going to gain from that?'&lt;br /&gt;Me: ???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 4:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pick Nattu and her friend A from daycare and come home. I go upstairs and change into my regular pajamas. Nattu sees me coming down the stairs and comments to A: My mom is hot. &lt;br /&gt;A who is couple of years older than Nattu tells her: Thats a bad word, you should not use it. &lt;br /&gt;Nattu to me: I am sorry amma, I didn't mean it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: ???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-3455485701226865693?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/3455485701226865693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/08/nattu-isms.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3455485701226865693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3455485701226865693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/08/nattu-isms.html' title='Nattu-isms'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-1903259295027490313</id><published>2011-08-09T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T19:05:41.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why..</title><content type='html'>..is it so hard for you to appreciate but easy to find fault.&lt;br /&gt;..is it ok for you to talk to your mom everyday but is not OK for me to talk to my parents.&lt;br /&gt;..is your job more important and mine has no value.&lt;br /&gt;..should I always be the one to bend my schedule to match yours.&lt;br /&gt;..is anything to do with kitchen work is my job and yours is only to eat what is dished out from there.&lt;br /&gt;..is any talk on equal rights from me is blamed on the blogs I read.&lt;br /&gt;..should you shy away from holding hands in public or any PDA because you don't want others to see you and you are living in USA.&lt;br /&gt;..is talking to my BFF bothers you so much.&lt;br /&gt;..is my mind so muddled when I think about our future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-1903259295027490313?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/1903259295027490313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/08/why.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/1903259295027490313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/1903259295027490313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/08/why.html' title='Why..'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-4502707194623497803</id><published>2011-05-24T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T19:12:21.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Early...</title><content type='html'>My cousin passed away yesterday.  He is much older than me and was going to turn 60 in August.  He was looking forward to his retired life and had lot of plans to spend his time traveling, spiritual pursuit, spending time with family, his new grandson and a lot more.  He became a grandfather three months ago.  So what happened that put a break to all his plans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was cancer. He went to the doctor two months ago because he had numbness in his feet.  The doctors did the usual prelim tests, blood work, x-ray, scan etc and found that he had a growth near his spine that was putting pressure on his nerves. They did a surgery to remove the lump and send the tissue for biopsy.  Came back as sarcoma, the virulent form.  The cancer had already spread and showed its presence in almost all vital organs including lungs.  He was in the hospital for a total of 62 days deteriorating each passing day and finally slipped away in the ICU last night.  He could not recognize his own daughter the last time she came to see him.  She was heart broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a typical case of negligence.  He had chosen to ignore the initial symptoms like pain around the neck and general tiredness.  He attibuted those to his age and his long commute to work.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They whole thing seem so sudden.  He went to the doctor two months ago with complaints and never came back home.  It just got worse and worse.  His son is preparing for his finals and his exams starts in two days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin told my mom when she visited him the plans he had when he retired.  She is still to come in terms with her nephew passing away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life seems so unpredictable.  The saying 'live every day as though its your last day' makes so much sense in this case.  He had worked hard all his life providing for his family, raising his kids and was looking forward to a relaxed retired life.  He never made it to the finishing line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just too early for him to say goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-4502707194623497803?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/4502707194623497803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/05/too-early.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/4502707194623497803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/4502707194623497803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/05/too-early.html' title='Too Early...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-8954685078472647814</id><published>2011-04-26T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T20:06:35.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Compliments..</title><content type='html'>I went shopping last weekend and bought couple of nice summer dresses.  One of them was a black and white dress which when worn made me feel really feminine..err what I mean is I looked good when I tried the dress at the store.  I wore the same to work today with a little different hairdo and accessories that matched the dress. I thought someone will compliment me for the effort I put in but the whole day no one said anything.  I could see the reaction on some of the faces but not one soul uttered a word.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was getting ready to leave in the evening, a friend from another team stopped by.  I had seen her earlier in the day on my way to the restroom and at that time she was getting back to her desk and was talking to someone on her cellphone.  She said that she stopped by because she wanted to tell me how good I looked in my dress.  She said that the dress, the hairdo and the accessories all make me look atleast 5 years younger.  She then proceeded to ask where I got the dress and other such details.  She also mentioned that she was glad to catch me before I left because if she gave the compliments the next day it wouldn't be the same.  I haven't stopped smiling ever since.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-8954685078472647814?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/8954685078472647814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/04/compliments.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8954685078472647814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8954685078472647814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/04/compliments.html' title='Compliments..'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-1128415925681442477</id><published>2011-03-22T05:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T05:12:27.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To keep our identity...</title><content type='html'>I got this in my email this morning and loved it.  There has been many posts by bloggers for Women's Day.  When I read this, I felt that I should post this as my contribution.  Just loved the second paragraph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are A Masterpiece&lt;/strong&gt;- Sri Sri Ravi Shankar (The Art of Living)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A plum once said, 'just because a banana lover came by, I converted myself into a banana. Unfortunately, his taste changed after a few months and so I became an  orange. When he said I was bitter I became an apple, but he went in search of grapes. Yielding to the opinions of so many people, I have changed so many times that I no more know who I am. How I wish I had remained a plum and waited for a plum lover.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because a group of people do not accept you as you are, there is no necessity for you to strip yourself off your originality.&lt;br /&gt;You need to think Good of yourself, for the world takes you at your own estimate.&lt;br /&gt;Never stoop down in order to gain recognition.&lt;br /&gt;Never let go of your true self to win a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;In the long run, you will regret that you traded your greatest Glory - your uniqueness, for momentary validation.&lt;br /&gt;Even Gandhi was not accepted by many people.&lt;br /&gt;The group that does not accept you as YOU is not Your world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a world for each one of you, where you shall reign as king /queen by just being yourself. Find that world... In fact, that world will find You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What water can do, gasoline cannot and what copper can, gold cannot. The fragility of the ant enables it to move and the rigidity of the tree enables it to stay rooted. Everything and everybody has been designed with a Proportion of uniqueness to serve a purpose that we can fulfil only by being our unique self. You as you alone can serve your purpose and I as I Alone can serve my purpose. You are here to be you... Just YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time in this world when a Krishna was required and he was sent;&lt;br /&gt;A time when a Christ was required and he was sent;&lt;br /&gt;A time when a Mahatma was Required and he was sent;&lt;br /&gt;A time when a J.R.D.Tata was required and he was Sent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There came a time when you were required on this planet and hence you were sent.&lt;br /&gt;Let us be the best we can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the history of the universe, there has been nobody like you and to&lt;br /&gt;the infinity of time to come, there will be no one like you. Existence should have loved you so much that it broke the mould after making you, so that another of your kind will never get repeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are original. You are rare. You are unique. You are a wonder. You are a masterpiece. .. Your Master's piece. Celebrate your Uniqueness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are you, your own self, don’t change for others, for this is NOT&lt;br /&gt;even their world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-1128415925681442477?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/1128415925681442477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-keep-our-identity.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/1128415925681442477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/1128415925681442477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-keep-our-identity.html' title='To keep our identity...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-974692831237621508</id><published>2011-02-06T18:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T18:39:00.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Lucky?</title><content type='html'>Won an iPod shuffle today in a lucky draw.  Well its was G who had registered his name for the event and it was his name that was called out.  But who cares. He was not in the audience when his name was called out and I went to collect the prize. So its mine, what say? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel like getting a lottery ticket tomorrow.  Maybe the luck will strike one more time?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-974692831237621508?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/974692831237621508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/02/am-i-lucky.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/974692831237621508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/974692831237621508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/02/am-i-lucky.html' title='Am I Lucky?'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-7425402751980753459</id><published>2011-01-10T06:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T07:18:30.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am glad I read Sue's blog...</title><content type='html'>We performed my FIL's first death anniversary couple of weeks back. I had to wear  madisar for three days for the rituals. I kinda know how to wear it but did not want to ask my MIL for directions. I remembered Sue doing this &lt;a href="http://sunayanaroy.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-to-wear-saree-madisar-iyer-kattu.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt; sometime back and promptly went and got a refresher course on how to wear a madisar. Followed it step by step and thanked her mentally everyday while wearing it. I was glad I was able to do this myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks &lt;a href="http://sunayanaroy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sue&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-7425402751980753459?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/7425402751980753459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-am-glad-i-read-sues-blog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7425402751980753459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7425402751980753459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-am-glad-i-read-sues-blog.html' title='I am glad I read Sue&apos;s blog...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-8217471628816332940</id><published>2010-09-23T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T08:25:42.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with homework</title><content type='html'>Sonu has started getting homework and for me its so advanced for first grade. One such homework is where he gets 15 words each week which he has to use in sentence. Getting him to understand the word and then use it appropriately in a sentence takes quite an effort. At times he uses two or more words within the same sentence Sometimes its hilarious the sentences he comes up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some instances are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word - worried, married. He makes up the following - 'I married a man who worried a lot'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words - cried, reason. The sentence - 'I cried for no reason' (he cried for something just before we sat down to do the homework and he put that in context here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word - amazing. The sentence he says 'Bald eagles have amazing eye sight.' I am thrilled with his sentence and ask him to write it down and he writes 'Bald eagles have amazing I-sight.' I start giggling. He is puzzled and asks he why I am giggling. I ask him to check the sentence he just wrote. He sees no mistake. I ask him the meaning of sentence. He says 'bald eagles can see all the way from top.' I ask him to check his sentence again. He says he has written it correctly. I ask him 'with what part of you body do you see?' He says 'Eyes' and then looks at his sentence again and realises his mistake and starts giggling too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will keep you updated on this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-8217471628816332940?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/8217471628816332940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/09/fun-with-homework.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8217471628816332940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8217471628816332940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/09/fun-with-homework.html' title='Fun with homework'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-3306356492468429689</id><published>2010-07-27T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T08:28:03.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Darr...</title><content type='html'>There is a tag going around where everyone is listing their fears.  Something that happened this morning made to want to do this post.  Here goes my list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I am afraid of dogs.  I admire them from a distance but do not have the courage to pet them.  Living in US, thats a big no-no as almost everybody owns a dog and treats them as a family member.  They are lovely creatures and are so loyal. But I am just scared of them.  This morning I walked out of home to get into the car with Nattu when a huge dog came running towards us.  I was getting into my seat and Nattu was going around the car to get to her door.  In fact she was the one who saw the dog and froze.  I saw through the window that the dog was coming towards her and asked her to come to me.  She ran to my side of the car and got on my lap while I closed the door quickly behind us.  There we were sitting in the driver seat with no room to move.  I asked her to go to her seat from inside the car.  She stepped on my work pants as she made her move, but I did not care.  I looked around and could not see the dog anywhere.  I did not want to back up the car lest I run over the dog.  Then I will be in even more trouble.  I finally did back up and saw that the owner of the dog was petting it at a distance.  The owner had three more dogs with him and he was taking them for a walk.  I was wondering why he did not have a leash on the big dog while the smaller ones were on one.  I was laughing all the way to my work thinking of the two of us cramped in the driver seat to get away from the dog :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I am afraid of creepy movies.  I cannot watch monsters, aliens, dracula movies.  G loves to watch these sci-fi movies but I am scared to watch them and get nightmares even if I watch a couple of scenes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I am afraid of hurting others feelings.  There are so many times when I want to say something harsh, but keep quiet because I am afraid that what I say may hurt them.  If it’s someone I really care about, I do make sure to get the point across when I am a little more calm and not angry or agitated.  But some people take this as to me being meek and try to walk all over me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I am afraid of my behavior around my kids.  I sometimes yell or scream at the kids when things don't go the way I want.  Then I analyze my behavior and repent for putting my kids through that situation.  I can see the hurt in my son's eyes when I do this and feel so bad later when I am more sober.  I am working on getting not too worked up when kids drive me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I am afraid of embarrassing myself in public.  But I am getting over this slowly and teaching my kids too that it’s ok to get embarrassed and not everybody is perfect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-3306356492468429689?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/3306356492468429689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/07/darr.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3306356492468429689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3306356492468429689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/07/darr.html' title='Darr...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-6693539221302877551</id><published>2010-06-03T08:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T08:21:56.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last week at school...</title><content type='html'>. . . Sonu had his kindergarten graduation. He was one of the two in his class to get 'outstanding student' award. His teacher praised him on his math skills. It was a pretty neat ceremony. Parents who came to attend it were taken to their kid's class. A powerpoint presentation of photos taken during the year was shown. All students were given some sort of certificate with a candy to highlight a positive quality in them... like 'Dove' candy bar given to a student who is always the peace maker when there are disagreements (read fights), 'Life Saver' given to a kid who always helps others etc. She even had an appropriate candy for the most troublesome boy..'gummy worms' for he can never sit in one place even for a short duration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G was totally proud of Sonu's achievement and asked me to call my mom to share the news. He has seen how my mom openly shows appreciation when anyone excels in education. She is someone who feels truly happy for anyone doing well at anything. Even when I did not get good grades during my school days, she would be genuinely happy for my BF who always was one of the class toppers. She would never compare me with my BF but would always point out my lack of effort. I knew how happy she would be to know about her grandson's achievement. She was super excited and I could visualise the huge smile on her face. She wanted me to give Sonu a treat, like ice cream or candy or prepare his favorite food as a reward. Thats what we used to get as kids when on rare occasions we excelled in something :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also proud of Sonu's achievement and also guilty for expecting too much from him all the time. He is naturally intelligent but gets bored easily with mundane stuff. He needs to challenged to make him and keep him interested to finish anything...be it homework, or artwork or even games. But that boy is so interested in watching TV that no matter how much ever I try to keep him occupied with other activities, his priority always is TV. Well, his TV addiction warrants a seperate post in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats my boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-6693539221302877551?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/6693539221302877551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/06/last-week-at-school.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/6693539221302877551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/6693539221302877551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/06/last-week-at-school.html' title='Last week at school...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-8757268578538812684</id><published>2010-05-10T09:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T09:13:18.700-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>Where did I go wrong?</title><content type='html'>There is this craze for 'silly bands' among elementary school kids in US now a days. They are actually stupid rubber bands that has shapes of animals or birds. Kids wear it around their wrist where it looks like a proper rubber band and take it out and put it on a flat surface to show off what shape it takes. Sonu and Nattu have not asked for these silly bands or not even mentioned it in passing conversation. We went to a get together last weekend where some of their friends were wearing these bands. S and N were intrigued by these bands still did not ask me to buy it for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We attended a light music show yesterday where the kids sat with us for the first hour and listened to the songs belted out. Sonu got bored after that and asked when we can go home. Right around that time the show had a break and we came out of the auditorium to the front lobby. We met a few of our friends there and the kids made some new ones. The show resumed after the break. I went into the auditorium with MIL while the kids continued to run in and out. G stood next to the door and kept an eye on them. They were not disturbing anyone and no one was complaining. So I let them have fun with their new found friends. In the middle of a song, Sonu and Nattu came and asked me whether they can have a dollar to buy a silly band from one of their friends. I said 'No'. The show got over and on our way back the kids show me the new silly bands around their wrists. They take it out to show the shape of the band. I was surprised and asked them where they got the silly bands from. They said 'we got a dollar from appa and bought this from one of the boys'. I was hopping mad at G. I asked G why he gave them money. G said he asked the kids to ask for my permission if they can buy the silly bands, they came back and told him that I said 'OK' so thats why he gave them the money. Now I was mad at the kids for twisting the truth to their benefit. I ask them in front of G what my answer was to their request for a dollar, they said that I said 'No'. Then I confronted the kids and asked them why they lied to their appa to get the silly band. Ofcourse Sonu knew what he did was wrong and remained quiet while Nattu said 'I got two bands amma while he got only one'. I felt like banging my head on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was mad at G for not checking with me before giving the money to the kids for something as silly as the silly band, I was mad at kids for lying to their father to get something they wanted, I was feeling miserable having failed somewhere in this parenting gig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did I go wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-8757268578538812684?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/8757268578538812684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/05/where-did-i-go-wrong.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8757268578538812684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8757268578538812684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/05/where-did-i-go-wrong.html' title='Where did I go wrong?'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-7404418021777809677</id><published>2010-03-25T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T19:22:05.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A song for every word</title><content type='html'>My dad is a big fan of old hindi songs. He sings songs appropriate for everyday situations changing words here and there to suit the moment. Everytime the door bell rang he would start off  'kaun aayaa mere ghar ke dwar pe...'. My brother and I picked up this habit and sing songs picking words out of everyday conversation. I continue to do this even after marriage and kids. I keep humming songs when I am cooking, cleaning, bathing. I do what my dad does, pick up everyday conversation and break into a song.. When my kids ask 'Who is it' - I break into the MJ song 'Who is it'. Sometimes they are amused and other times they are irritated that I am not answering their question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sonu has always been a chubby big kid. I stopped carrying him when he turned 5 because my back hurt everytime I tried to. I snuggle with him in the sofa or bed but don't lift him. Even when he falls asleep, I gently wake him up and walk him to his bed. I lift Nattu at times, she being a petite little girl and carrying her does not throw my back off. Sonu, one day saw me lift her and wanted me to lift him too. I said 'you know I don't lift you because I get back ache if I do'. He started off Adnan Sami's song 'thodi si tho lift karade...Mujhko bhi to lift karade..'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu is interested in drawing and coloring. She made a beautiful painting one day and I told her 'Nanna color panni irukkiye (&lt;em&gt;you have done a good job&lt;/em&gt;)' and she goes off 'nanna re nanna re nanna re na na re'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask Sonu to show his tongue &lt;em&gt;(nakku)&lt;/em&gt; as part of his brushing routine and he sings 'nakka mukka nakka, oh shakalaka, oh randakka'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have passed on the genes on this one quite successfully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-7404418021777809677?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/7404418021777809677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/varthaiku-paatu.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7404418021777809677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7404418021777809677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/varthaiku-paatu.html' title='A song for every word'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5244970874430008516.post-8245385590890592136</id><published>2010-03-23T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T11:34:22.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Appane Muruga</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, I used to say 'ayyo' a lot. When something unexpected happened, if I dropped something, banged my knee or arm accidentally, even after sneezing, it was always followed by an 'ayyo' from me. My grandma, being the conservative orthodox lady she was, used to get very mad everytime I said 'ayyo'. She used to say 'vayila nalla varthaye varatha unakku?' &lt;em&gt;(why don't you say something nice?)&lt;/em&gt;. I was very fond of Lord Muruga (Karthikeya) at that time, so started substituting 'Muruga' for 'ayyo'. This habit has stayed with me and even now I say Muruga for every little thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both Sonu and Nattu are interested in mythological stories. They get so excited and have so many questions while listening to such stories. They are always figuring out which name belongs to which god and relationship between gods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finishing all morning activities one Sunday morning, I sat down with a sigh and said 'Muruga'. Nattu sitting next to me asks: 'why did you say Muruga?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to quiz on her knowledge about Gods, so I ask her: 'do you know who Muruga is?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu, thinking for sometime says: 'its the karam &lt;em&gt;(spicy)&lt;/em&gt; thing you put in food'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOL and tell her 'thats molagai &lt;em&gt;(chillies).&lt;/em&gt; I said Muruga'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu &lt;em&gt;(eyes brightening):&lt;/em&gt; 'Oh! Muruga. He is the one who says 'Narayana Narayana'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ROFL at this point: 'thats Narada not Muruga.... Don't you know who Muruga is?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu, not happy to see me giggling like a lunatic, says: 'I am just a small girl. How would I know who Muruga is?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-8245385590890592136?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/8245385590890592136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/appane-muruga.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8245385590890592136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8245385590890592136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/appane-muruga.html' title='Appane Muruga'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-3303433500550604488</id><published>2010-03-16T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T05:37:13.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yaam petra inbam...</title><content type='html'>Nattu was down with cold, cough and fever one night. She slept in my room as I wanted to check on her periodically. Sonu also came to our room in the middle of the night. When I realised that he was sleeping next to her, I pushed him aside and slept in the middle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu continued to have temperature the next morning so I told her that she is not going to school that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She cried a lot and asked 'then why is Anna going?'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'Thats because he does not have cold or fever'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: 'but I coughed three times on his face last night'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-3303433500550604488?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/3303433500550604488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/yaam-petra-inbam.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3303433500550604488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3303433500550604488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/yaam-petra-inbam.html' title='Yaam petra inbam...'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-7766383879657062276</id><published>2010-03-15T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T20:01:04.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New definition?</title><content type='html'>Was kneading chapathi dough for dinner. Nattu, who was looking at the dough preparation technique asks 'amma, use the egg beater to make chapathi. Don't use hands. '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'Egg beater is used for liquids and not for making chapathi dough'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: 'But you can still use the egg beater amma'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This gets me thinking 'Does she know what the word liquid means?'&lt;/em&gt; I ask aloud 'Do you know whats the meaning of liquid?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: (confidently) 'Liquid is something you lick'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-7766383879657062276?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/7766383879657062276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-definition.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7766383879657062276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/7766383879657062276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-definition.html' title='New definition?'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-8180952383156257668</id><published>2010-03-15T06:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T11:47:52.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Witty Nattu</title><content type='html'>Nattu, who turns 5 in May, comes up with unexpected repartees. We were having dinner at an Indian joint the other day. G went for the buffet while I ordered chat items for the rest of us. A small masal dosa and roti comes as part of buffet. These two items are prepared fresh and brought to the table by the waiter. G started eating his buffet items when the dosa and roti was served at our table after 10 mins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu was perplexed when she saw the dosa and roti served in the middle of our eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asks me 'mommy, did you order dosa?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell her that it is for appa and comes as part of his buffet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nattu: 'but appa is already eating his food(buffet). Did he order the dosa because he wants to become more fat?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G did not touch the dosa that night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-8180952383156257668?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/8180952383156257668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/nattu-who-turns-5-in-may-come-up-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8180952383156257668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/8180952383156257668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/nattu-who-turns-5-in-may-come-up-with.html' title='Witty Nattu'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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-5244970874430008516.post-3890107254640529247</id><published>2010-03-13T19:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T19:53:01.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello World</title><content type='html'>I have been thinking of writing a blog myself for quite sometime but had my doubts if I would be able to.  Well, I would never know till I start one.  So here I am trying my hand on keeping one.  This blog will be about my life,my kids - 'sonu' and 'nattu', and my world spinning around them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5244970874430008516-3890107254640529247?l=rrtales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/feeds/3890107254640529247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/hello-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3890107254640529247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5244970874430008516/posts/default/3890107254640529247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rrtales.blogspot.com/2010/03/hello-world.html' title='Hello World'/><author><name>rrmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10682597652628679077</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>
