The Day the Dentist Went to Henry. Wait. Strike That. Reverse it.

once upon a time there was a little boy named henry. 

he was a very little boy but he had some very big brave when he went to the dentist for a filling. 

and he used his very big words to make the dentist laugh. 

his mom made him brush his teeth on the way there, as if that would help. 

HE knew it was too late. 

and SHE knew it was too late. 

still, she made him do it. 

he had a few cavities where the cavity bugs had worn through. 

they needed to be filled with the...stuff. (the details of the stuff are kind of fuzzy, even for his mom). 

when the dentist started using a water pick, she explained that water is "very important for mouths"

and henry said, AND ALSO WATER IS VERY IMPORTANT FOR SURVIVAL. 

the dentist had to agree. 

while they worked, he stared straight ahead and answered all their questions politely. 

he did not complain about the pain and said that he did not feel scared. 

he also said he understand why he had to wait 1 hour before eating the tooth-shaped lollipop when he was all done.

kind of.

there is reason to believe there may be more cavities to fill in the future.

BUT MOMMY CAN WE PUT BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP?

i had an enlightened moment today. i'd been feeling guilty (again) for yelling at my beautiful children so much this weekend (again) when i was single parenting (again) and when robb came home and asked how i'd fared, i went all tragic, 'i screamed so much and i told anna to shut up once. oh, god. i'm awfuuuuuul!!!' and then i cried in the kitchen and then i went for a run. 

the first half of the run i continued my chant of how much i suck and how i hope the kids don't remember me as this awful, harsh, fun anchor and how they might be better off without me. 

and then the sunshine and the snow in the trees and a few minutes of peace, alone, listening to Fergie with my endorphins working and started thinking...G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S...and also....when robb asked me that question, it was in a clean house, both kids, fed and fine,  were sleeping, i had fared. this weekend, taking care of 2 toddlers by myself, i ALSO made a pot of soup, read a million books, had a snow ball fight with the snow snot that fell out of the sky and hit my front yard, and took them to the farmers' market AND library. i made pancakes AND we made and decorated Christmas cookies. 

the cookies. 

so, what gives? why am i hating on myself so much? because i was stressed out the whole time and i just KNEW the kids could feel it. but what are the facts?

so, yes, they watched a lot of movies, they ate only carbs (did you see the thing about the pancakes AND cookies, and also there was some white bread from the farmers' market, OK STOP JUDGING, IT WAS HARD. THEY ARE MEAN) and we fought over meals. and i a little bit threw a chair (at no one). and when we lost the apple TV remote we almost had to move. and somehow potato chips ended up spilled in the bathroom. and when henry saw me cleaning in there he was so alarmed by the strange site, he got confused and thought we were going to make the cookies in the bathroom, maybe? 

floor below the cookies. 

but why don't i focus on what i did well?? really. WHY?

and can i change the narrative in my head so i feel like less of a failure?

last night after the kids and i had a collective melt-down and bedtime was pushed forward and cookie decorating pushed back to the next day and everyone cried....and then everyone talked....and then we read books and then they were falling asleep....i was still panting from the trauma of the fight, but they weren't. they were fine. in fact, as i'm rocking and sucking my thumb in the chair in the corner of their room, pretty sure i'm the most despicable mom of all time second maybe only to joan crawford, henry whispered, BUT MOMMY, CAN WE PUT THE BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP? 

he was just worried about frosting his cookies. 

he'd forgotten all about the fact that i forced him to eat poison quinoa soup and that i'd scared him when i a little bit threw that chair. 

i have to believe two things, when we all survive to the other end of this kid/parent thing.

1) i'll be left with the impression that they were adorable

2) they'll be left with the impression that i was wonderful

i say that confidently because my parents only talk about how great i was when i was small and i KNOW i was a bossy, snotty piece of shit much of my childhood. K. i know. you don't have to hide it. 

also, my mom has told me all the ways she was impatient and frustrated and freaked out and failing us when i was a little kid and i remember....none of it. i mean, none. not once. not once do i recall my mom being anything but loving and put-together. i know it happened. logically, it must have. she was taking care of 3 small children, one with major health issues and a developmental delay. she must have had terrible days. and i also know that she chewed ice and fretted constantly. but i only know that stuff because i've processed it as an adult. leaving childhood, i just felt like she thought us three kids were the bee's knees and that she was thrilled to be our mom.  and, ultimately, we all turned out to be functional, happy big kids/adults. (twitch twitch) so, basically she nailed it. but she didn't know it at the time, but hopefully she does now. i'm thinking i get that. 

another revelation is that these kids are different with mommy than they are with daddy. and how. 

robb's been noticing for a while that they'll shout for me, across the house, while sitting in his damned lap. he's like, "what are you doing? i can help you." and they're like, "OH." 

and i don't want to speak for all moms/dads, but in our experience, this mom gets the fiercest attachments with the most intense moments of intimacy, but also is the brunt of their most asshole-i-ness. 

i never don't have a wound on my face from anna's claws. i never don't have a wound on my self esteem from henry telling me hates me or him not listening to me as i beg him to do something. i really hate feeling inconsequential. and somehow my self worth is tied up into how they treat me. instead of just assuming he's a schmo who needs to be more respectful, i take it personally and also think maybe his bad behavior is a reflection on my piss-poor parenting? 

but, after last night, when i couldn't help but debrief on the rough day, he said, TOMORROW WILL BE A BETTER DAY. AGAIN. 

:) again. because as far as he was concerned, yesterday was super. ;)-

i have to believe they won't remember all the yelling that i do. all the swearing under (and sometimes over) my breath and the look of panic on my face all of the time. 

just like eventually, soon, probably, i won't remember the total anarchy of having two toddlers trying to kill me. i'll forget how they refuse every meal i ever try to feed them but want snacks constantly and i'll forget being held hostage in their bedrooms an hour after we started the bedtime dance, trying to remember how native americans snuck up on deer in the woods (on the balls of their feet? heels? nope. balls) while i creep around the floor creaks trying to get out with my life. 

i have to believe eventually they won't shout all the time and will actually sometimes quietly listen. i have to believe they get that i love them even as i'm losing my shit. 

it might not be until they have their own kids that they'll understand how hard i fought to stay positive and kept fighting for their wellness and my sanity, my marriage, and our family.  

“Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.” -Elizabeth Taylor

if you guys are ever reading this....henry james and anna kirsten....i love you. i've always loved you. i'm trying. 

and i'm sorry about that chair. 

it had it coming. 

My Fuck-Off List This Week (I'm Not Grumpy, You Are)

1. daylight saving time.....i can't even look at you. 

2. people (older, mostly) who stop me and the kids in the store all the time to say, "enjoy this time. kids grow up SO fast. cherish every blessed moment! it'll be over in a flash.' 

really. REALLY? last night my son stepped on my daughte'rs back and gave her a bloody nose. this morning, she bit his nipple and left teeth prints on skin through 3 shirts and then ran into the middle of the street, again. i'm actually trying to erase those memories from my mind as quickly as i can because i want to feel affection toward my offspring instead of intense fear/moderate resentment.  if i 'cherish' and dwell on all the things that these two violent tyrants do, i will end up locking myself out of the house, on PURPOSE this time, or going fetal and not coming back. 

look, i get that when you have grown kids, you'd give ANYTHING to have them tiny and cute again for a day, to hear their sweet thoughts and to be able to fix all their problems with your hugs. i respect that. but it is downright rude to dismiss how profoundly exhausting and anxiety-inducing and frustrating it is to have little kids. i mean, it is NOT for the weak. so don't make me feel guilty for having hard days, for crying in my car sometimes. because, look, old lady, YOU DID, TOO. 

i'm crazy in love with my kids and would run through fire for them. but i've been around long enough now to be suspicious that these little a-holes probably started the fire in the first place. 

being "mommy" is amazing. but "mommy" is only said with a sweet smile on top of footie pajamas some of the time. they other times it's screamed, it's whined, it's demanded, it's repeated in inhuman rapid-fire sequences without stopping for breath. it often is said with just the right tone that it clearly implies, MOMMY, YOU'RE FAILING ME. AGAIN. 

last night when we were 15 minutes late to a 30 minute karate class (#mailedit), i was screaming at the baby who was screaming at me and arching her back and refusing to get into her car seat because that's how we do, and henry reproached me with, YOU SHOULD SAY YOU'RE SORRY. WE'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO YELL AT BAD GUYS. 

sigh. (breathe 2-3-4. you're right, buddy. i'm sorry. now tie your karate robe tighter, i can see your nipple wound).

they're worth all this guilt, and stress, and fear. of course they are. they're huge blessings. without a doubt. and i don't forget for a minute what a big fat miracle it is that they're here and they're safe and healthy and get to live with me in my house. BUT it's all there. you can't act like it's not part of the deal. i think it's totally OK to acknowledge that this is the best and worst of times. 

it's like when i got into PA school. i was so grateful and so excited, because it was hella competitive and a total honor just to be there in the first place, and i was geeked about the potential for a wonderful career at the end, but the middle part was HARD. it was sickeningly hard sometimes. i did not have fun most days. i ground my teeth down so far, i had no choice but to become a vegetarian. ;)

i was both being maxed out in both my excitement and my stress. and that's what this kid thing is like, too. sometimes i think my heart might explode from how much i love them. but then other times i'm just convinced they're trying to kill me. 

3. people (again, mostly older) who act like robb, being a dude, is some kind of war hero because he shows up as a parent. 

right now he's gone for 2 weeks on business. this is no big deal, right? the womenandchildren left behind can fend for themselves, right? that's always how it's been. men are kind of figureheads for the home anyway, they don't play an actual, real role, right? this is kind of the attitude we've encountered. this is just sexism, and i've talked about it before. it's not how it works anymore. him being gone is a big problem because he's half of our workforce. 

you know i don't want to applaud him for doing laundry. i'll thank him privately. we attempt to be aware and grateful for each other's efforts. (we often fail). but it was discovered by science a while back that penises don't actually get caught in the mechanisms of washing machines or dishwashers and men, can, in fact, do housework. it's also been found that both sexes can balance checkbooks, mow lawns, and soothe crying children.  he does half the home stuff and makes half the money, i do the other half. that's it. when both spouses are working outside the home, the inside the home stuff has to be split up or someone will get shivved. i don't make the rules. i just know how to follow them.  and it's pretty old-fashioned (read: shitty) for people to assume that because i'm female i'm MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY 1st and full-time PA 2nd and because he's male, he's employee 1st and DADDY 2nd. instead, we're together, both trying to give our kids the #1 spot with this sort of MODDY figure and also attend fully to our careers. we'll see how it goes. for now, pass the wine. 

herumph. 

4. sadness and grief. 

ain't nobody got time for it, but i'm still in all kinds of aches over all the people i've lost this year. shit. stop dying, y'all. i'm running out of chocolate. 

5. fundamentalists being jerks and making it into the media. 

i don't even. i can't. i mean, really. all religions. all sectors. just stop. whatever text you follow, i guarantee you there's a message of love in it that's repeated more often and louder than whatever bit you're clinging to that is leaving you self-important and violent. please re-focus. 

this week there's a loud mouth Christian author making the rounds right now about how wives owe sex to their husbands and giving men techniques to 'biblically claim' what is due them. (hashtag rape)

that's one of a million examples of similar stuff that makes me vomit in my mouth and makes me feel distant and cold to what is supposed to be the source of my warmth. 

i've reached out to some friends who believe in God to help me figure out why people are so mean to each other if they supposedly have this loving God on their side. they're wise and kind and i appreciate them holding my head up for me when i can't. 

-----------------------------------------

that's it for now, i guess. i could complain about the bad drivers in the farmers' market parking lot this morning, but no one expects smart cars full of greens to be driven well, right?

thanks again, for being my therapists. if you charge by the hour, then, uh, this took me 15 minutes. :) 

                                                                                      

Once Upon a Time There Was This Type A, Stressed-Out Lady Person Who Was Hanging From Loose Ends

so i'm sitting in a honda dealer's lounge while i type this. i'm waiting for them to make a replacement key (with fob and all the $$ fancy stuff) for my car because i 'aped' (to ape= to aggressive manhandle and destroy in a fit of rage) robb's copy of my key. 

it was a while ago and no one got hurt, other than that stupid key that had it coming. i don't remember exactly what was happening at the time of said aping, but i imagine i was 1) in a hurry, 2) being yelled at by some child, and 3) under-fed/caffeinated/slept. 

i get hangry, but i also get slangry. i'm not proud of this, but it's where i am. 

i've been thinking about "where i am" a lot lately.  i've not been feeling so healthy recently- for months, actually. like hair falling out, skin a mess (eyes puffy and red and wrinkly, looking like stoned Yoda....or maybe that's just regular Yoda. you KNOW they were smoking something on dagobah), itchy, dry skin all over, no energy,  that kind of thing...i've been casually running it by friends and doctors and doctor friends and finally i went and actually used some insurance and saw my NP...and tests and advisors all concluded that i'm just stressed and worn slap out.  (thank God there's nothing scary brewing)

ALSO. i'm turning 35 soon and it's kind of landing on me hard. not because i think it's old and not because i'm not happy about where i am in life. i really am. i'm very proud of and grateful for the way things are going. i even think my 17 y/o self would be happy with us. and we all know this is the goal. 

(she would probably wonder why my hair is so lame and why i now us the word 'noggin' instead of head, but she would be pretty thrilled about my virtue, my humor, my sex life, my job, and my kids (who are obsessed with 'the nightmare before christmas' and the muppets- she would like that about them). we got pretty lucky, we'd say. and then we'd talk for a while about whether it's luck or God or the family i was born into and all those benefits and we'd end up sharing a dark chocolate bar and some wine (i'd let her have just a sip) and i'd be jealous of her high boobs but pity her insecurity.)

anyway. 

i've been thinking about aging and i want to age gracefully and powerfully. i want to graduate from the cute phase of life where women are held/hold onto for too long and move into the wise, experienced, really useful and productive phase. i expect that with years come wisdom and confidence and resolve. i'm ready! i'm gonna have cool gray hair like gloria steinem and diane keaton! i'm not going to sink my money into potions that don't work to make me seem younger than i am. i am strong! i am beautiful! i am.....

man, this car dealer coffee is good. why is folgers out of an urn in a styrofoam cup so good? like gas station egg salad sandwiches. they're just terrible and i just love them. i don't make the rules. 

i've also been finding it hard to focus lately. 

ANYway. so why am i so stressed? here's what the therapist inside me has deduced (yes, he's austrian, yes, he smokes a pipe, no, you're weird): my expectations for myself are really high. i can laughingly say that my credo is "fucket" but in reality, i...don't. i want to do everything for everyone 100% exactly the best. i never want to say no, or that i can't. i never draw any limits because i always feel like there's more i can give. i'm not dead yet! 

a full-time, busy job with some pretty decent responsibilities along with the maintenance of 2 wonderful but very demanding (and not sleeping still) small human people is a lot to juggle. and then there's marriage and his job worries that become my worries and other family/friend relationships to keep track of and $$ concerns in the immediate and in the long-term sense and endless house cleaning and projects and cooking and prospective business ventures and...i can feel my shoulders hunch up toward my ear holes while i list these. 

and i'm a list checker. i love it. when i cross something off a list, i feel calm. when the item is not crossed off, stays not crossed off, just hangs around on the list forever- i never feel calm. robb astutely said the other day that right now "your whole life is loose ends." he's RIGHT! and it drives me berserk! (actually i couldn't remember exactly how he'd said it because my memory, like the rest of me, is sort of squishy and droopy now... "my whole life is hanging chads??" is that what he said?? no, that's not quite right...finally i remembered. CHECK!). 

the other thing. i'm really empathetic and compassionate. (to everyone but my husband, he would argue). it's a wonderful gift and i'm proud of it and i encourage it in my kids. but my heart bleeds often. i can very easily feel viscerally the pain of everyone i encounter-either in person or distantly. i take personally the struggles of my patients, i physically hurt when my kids cry, and i get a stomach ache when i read the news of people hurting each other. my TMJ pain acts up especially when groups of people are brutalized. and, since people are hurting and hurters make more hurt- that's everywhere all the time. 

it's making me go bald to feel this much but i'm not sure my baldness is actually helping anyone. i feel like i need to hear/read their stories so that the voices of these people and their struggles aren't lost into oblivion....but to what end? so i cry for them? so what? does that pluck a kid out of sexual slavery? so i share someone's painful life on facebook? does that un-starve a refugee? what am i doing for anyone but making myself feel less helpless? (and is that even working??) and at the end of the day, who am i really reaching besides my small circle of people? 

BUT if i fall apart physically or mentally (no labs for that, just have to measure # of key fobs destroyed) i can't even help my small circle of people. 

so, here's my conclusion. 1- i'm getting sick from stress, 2- my being sick will do no one any good, 3- i don't have to open my eyes wide ALL the time. i'm not serving anyone less by shutting out some of the pain. 4-it's not a crime to take some time for me. no, really, it's not. no, but seriously. 5- it's not a badge of success to run myself ragid- i'm allowed to find some damn peace. do some yoga, read a book, drink more water and less coffee. 

well, baby steps. i mean have you TRIED this card dealiership coffee? 

i got an adult coloring book and some jigsaw puzzles and i'm throwing myself a Xanax-alternative birthday party. 

because fucket, emiright? 

Mawage is Wot Bwings Us Togeder Today, That Bwessed Awangment, Dat Dweam wifin a Dweam...

we're on our way home from 5 (five) days away just the two of us. we went to orlando for a medical continuing education conference for me and to go to the theme parks together (but we will deny that and pistol whip you if you tell our children) and to belax on the beach. 

we're celebrating our 13th anniversary this week and we math'd and realized we've known each other for 20 years this year, and have been making googly eyes at each other for most of that time. being away, just the two of us has been really good, really renewing. we talked a lot about where we are and where we're going and snags we have in our communication, ways that we can make it easier on each other. we're lucky because we're still wanting to push for these things. we want to keep fighting for our marriage. that sounds stark, maybe, but it's a decision you have to kind of make daily, i think. i don't think marriage is a static situation. i think it involves re-upping your commitment all the time. 

and marriage isn't easy, right? we all know that. it's all about bending egos and apologizing and trying to get into and out of someone else's head and get what you need out of the relationship and life but also giving more than you thought you had to give. 

and marriage with kids is just ridiculous. because you have to do all the above things in 2 minute conversational bursts between emergencies. and on 5 hours of sleep. and while wading in urine and being yelled at. you gladly welcomed these little intruders into your house, but they are TERRIBLE roommates and very rude tiny dictators. they cause dramatic feels. like breathtaking joy and soul-crushing angst. so you become this jumpier, dumber, (fatter) version of the person you were when you first fell in love.  and all the attention and kisses you previously gave to your spouse is now funneled to the kids. like robb astutely put, "you only have so many fucks to give per day, and the kids tend to get them all." exactly. bingo. i'm all out of fucks by the end of the day and he gets NONE FUCKS. 

so...being away just the two of us, it was nice to reserve all my fucks for....well this is getting awkward. you get the idea.  

we're pretty (shocked) grateful that we still enjoy time together and can surprise each other and make each other laugh. it's been huge to have a few days where we can quietly discuss things without anyone interrupting us or needing our attention. everything was just easy and fun 

(this is a brilliant post on this subject from @foreverymom. i really encourage you to read it if you haven't: http://www.foreverymom.com/a-letter-to-my-husband-in-this-weird-phase-of-life-my-heart-still-longs-for-you/)...

and i'm feeling more light and free than i've felt in ages. in real life, my life is full of decisions, most of which impact other people. whether it's at work or at home. so it was remarkable to have only inconsequential choices in front of me. i mean, i went to a conference and learned good stuff every day, but that was just a matter of opening up my brain bucket and drinking free coffee. it's nice to learn new things when it's outside of the context of cramming for an exam.  

and mostly, for 5 straight days, my hardest choices were like, rocks or frozen? (rocks). coffee or wine? (yes). you want to go on the really huge scary roller coaster and do magic tricks with your wand? (yes, yes i do). wouldn't it be more responsible to go to bed now instead of staying up? (no, i don't care. shut up, no one likes you ). you want to swim in the atlantic ocean in all your clothes even though sharks and currents and fish-butt smelling luggage? (yes, correct. that's just what i want). 

so thanks to my mom (and dad, and in-laws, and sister and brother-in-law and all the good folks of the village who maintained the kids while we drank tequila) for keeping the kids so i can be a better me, and spouse, and upon my return, mom. 

(i don't think they even realized we were gone.....perfect.)

robb is, wisely and lovingly, always trying to make me a better me. he says i need to improve my conclusions in my writing. he's right- i get tired and bored and i have a tendency to just just hastily wrap-up my posts. 

so here we go: 

marriage is good because it maintains social order and reduces the incidence of syphilis, but it is difficult and cannot be treated with penicillin. so you have to encourage it and give it some time to breathe once in a while. preferably at the beach. 

how was that, honey? 

HI. I'M HENRY. I'M FOUR. (Pre-K Started Today!!)

henry officially started pre-kindergarden today (or "pre-k" if you're in the know).

it's at the same daycare center and a few doors down from his old preschool classroom. he and his peers are now the biggest kids in school. he is very happy with his new teacher (SHE IS SO PRETTY) and excited that his BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD, Eli, is in his class with him. and also that there are super hero figures to play with in this classroom. that's a pretty big deal. 

so after much coercing, he agreed to an interview. a real in-depth look at what it's like to be henry, age 4, pre-k. 

like most parenting moments i'm most anticipating - it does not go as planned. i see all these adorable photos my friends post of their kids with their school clothes and a little wee chalkboard listing their age, name, and life's goals ( 'i want to be a dinosaur when i grow up!' awwww) and i imagine how delightful it will look all lined up on the stairs someday, the same photo year after year, showing their growth.

well. 

Mrs. Barbara Pinterest would have shaken her head at my version. obviously i'm too lazy to actually buy a chalkboard or anything and too cheap to buy new school clothes when the old ones fit just fine thank you very much (and also i'm bitter because when i took him school shopping for, like, glue and paper, the items on his pre-k list, he had a meltdown in the store because i wouldn't buy him a toy OR candy because i'm the meanest), i figured i could just interview him and blog his respones. 

so during the interview he kept making fart noises and saying nonsensical words and barking and giggling madly as he burrowed under the covers. here's what he eventually said: 

-what is your favorite color: GOLDEN

-what is the most exciting part of your life:  I LIKE PLAYING WITH...HMMM...OH, YES. THE SUPER HEROES IN MY CLASSROOM.

-when you grow up, what do you want to be? A SUPER HERO. BLAST SUPER POWERS. WHEN I SEE A BAD GUY I'LL BLAST HIM WITH LASERS. 

-what is your favorite food? OREOS

-what is your favorite book? WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS. 

-what is the thing you're most excited about learning in school? LEARN HOW TO READ A BOOK

-what is one of your goals in life? I'M GOOD AND I GET TO GO TO PRE-K

-what do you want to be for halloween? THINK THINK THINK THINK. OH, YES. LARRY BOY!

(http://veggietales.wikia.com/wiki/Larry_Boy)

-what do you want to be when you grow up? A SUPER HERO.

-what's the best thing about being a super hero? I CAN CAMOUFLAGE AND ACTUALLY I'M PRETENDING I'M A SUPER HERO RIGHT NOW. I'M THING-A-MA-BOB, BOUNCY-A-BOB AND HENRY-A-BOB.

  

    employing his camouflage techniques

    fiercely loving that sister of his. 

   really into reading, and daddy. (they're reading star wars fan fiction because #nerds)

   plays music. practicing his rock face. 

"hi. i'm henry. i'm four." is how he greets all new friends (strangers). he's a funny, sweet guy with a lot on his mind all the time. his capacity for imagination and curiosity builds daily and it's awesome. 

When I Was Your Age, I Had to Walk Up Hill Both Ways for My Beer. And the Only Thing Craft We Drank Was the Elmer's Glue When We Were Making Awesome Popsicle Stick Art.

i am struggling to put together the right words to talk about the deaths i've grieved this summer.




a friend lost the 2nd love of her life last weekend. another friend lost his dad and his wife lost a best friend, both after so many years of struggle. and another friend of mine died earlier this month out of nowhere after kicking the shit out of cancer last year, just when everyone had started to breathe again. and then, of course, there was my grandpa in the spring. although death at 91 doesn't seem especially uncalled for, he was still THE BEST and a giant presence in our life and now hole in our family.





so I'm just not even going to try to make nice word necklaces to hang around this hurt. C.S. Lewis said all the things that need to be said about death in the simplest, most perfect of terms in his, 'A Grief, Observed.' genius things like "the death of a beloved is an amputation." i mean- yes. that's exactly it. yes, that. simple. exposing the bones of it. perfect.





so i'm not even going to try. instead, i'm going to attempt to find the humor around me and write it down. because Patty "Pepperbee" liked my writing (i liked hers!) and thought i was funny (so was she!) and sometimes people need to laugh. and because i don't know what the fuck else to do (she would not have loved that i use that word. she was, like, the BEST Catholic since Maria von Trapp).





SO......here's a silly story for you, Patty. (side note: i'm reading nick offerman's "Gumption" right now and he refers to himself as a "giggle pusher" which I think is brilliant and wonderful and i long to be able to consider myself a giggle pusher as well, someday).




anyway. so i was out with girlfriends the other night at this cool new restaurant. let me start by saying that we are not cool. well, at least 'i' am not cool. they are staying pretty with it and have at least some idea of what's happening in the world. (like i bet they know what a nae nae is. i literally do NOT know and have NOT bothered to look it up because i don't want to google "what is a nae nae" like all the other old ladies. i think it has to do with being whipped or something?).


anyway. my friends and i are old and have small children and are tired instead of cool. but we got away for a night and went to this brand new hipster restaurant/bar. it lives in this neighborhood in this city both best known for taking punches. but now there are restaurants like this one, trying to reinvent the scene with cocktails decked out with sprigs of lavender and food dishes that all have their own dips that are not ketchup or cheese.


for a long time only wooden boards across windows and bodies of the homeless found abandoned in buildings was what was happening in that part of town...as far as us outsiders knew. (side note again, there's more going on, in these neighborhoods and the cool blend of humans that inhabit them. there's a free clinic (the oldest in the state) nearby that was run by the boldest, most activated women (nuns, actually, speaking of Mrs. von Trapp) in the world. i used to work for them. and it was an experience. a story for another time).



AND NOW THE HIPSTERS HAVE FOUND THE AREA AND MOVED RIGHT IN. and they've certainly brought their beards.



so myself and two of my girlfriends went to check out the newest of these intimidating hip places.


we felt a bit like retired farm animals dropped into a safari. 'oh, bessie. why do they all wear stripes and have birds sitting on them? and what is that they're drinking? they keep insisting its craft brew in their watering hole.'


we did not fit in.



we were seated in the window, which i think the hostess immediately regretted, because we probably were giving the wrong impression to passers by about what kind of establishment this was. possibly we even brought the property value down. we obviously use our phones to look at pictures of our kids when we're away from them instead of Tinder-ing. (that's a thing, right?) the more she and our waiter tried to sneakily get us to leave, the more we stayed and the louder we got. "have you ever snap chatted? oh, NO...what's a snap chat? is that like a lip dub? is that the same as smash dub? and do you have to send penis pictures? like what are you supposed to do if you don't personally have a penis?' it went on like that for a long time.


the hostess was in her early 20's and dressed in cute, casual clothes without a nametag or clipboard or podium or any indicator that she was the hostess or even that she worked there. when we walked in, she made eye contact and smiled at my friend, which i took to mean she and my friend knew each other.



no.



and then when we sat down, this very adorable, bright eyed young lad of 10 or 11? (also probably early 20s) took our orders for foods and drinks.

we were never actually positive he worked there, either, because he was charmingly clueless about what the restaurant offered and he, too, was dressed in completely casual clothes without nary an indicator of his station.


but we gladly took the fried foods and drinks that he kept coming back with. yes we did...and nothing seemed partially eaten or anything, so he probably did work there. but every time we asked him to get something, he'd say they didn't have any of that. maybe he worked there but just wasn't allowed in the kitchen? at one point i asked him for a bag to carry all my leftover boxes in because i hate the earth and want to see it parish in my lifetime or at the very latest, my children's lifetime, and he came back apologizing for the restaurant having no bags to offer me. before he even finished his sentence, an old, grizzled server, 28 or 30 years old, showed up with a bag. we giggled at what a cartoon our waiter was (but not giggled in a cute way, in a probably tinkled a little in my drawers kind of way).


but the food was good and the drinks were great and the company was hysterically fun, as always.


eventually we knew we'd have to leave because we really did have adult responsibilities awaiting us at home and early morning wake-up calls to consider. i was thinking, 'these young kids think they're so hot and awesome but I'm holding my own! here i am out eating and drinking at the coolest new place in town at 10 o'clock in the PM. I'm with it. i'm hip. i'm cool. tucka-tucka."


and then i got off my stool and limped to the bathroom because I'd been sitting still for too long and my leg had fallen asleep.

Anatomy of a Female: Sorry, Not Sorry

An Open Letter to Lady Parts.

(since no addressee ever seems intended to receive these open letters people write, i figured i'd pen one to the vagina, vulva, cervix, uterus, and ovaries, which, to my knowledge, cannot actually read. but they could surprise me). 

hello, lady bits.

boy, are you popular in the news lately! not because you've committed a crime or starred in a summer blockbuster across from tom cruise or anything (definitely not that), in fact, you haven't changed at all. but there's this intense discussion over who's responsible for your health and safety and upkeep and your reproductive capacity and associated contents within. it has a lot of people yelling.

which is actually sort of exciting, even as it is frustrating. because it shows that people are angry and desiring change and are tired of the status quo. anger and apathy can't live together, right? so at least the pot is being stirred and voices are getting louder about changing assumptions and perceptions of women and their business.

there's been for many years- (since the beginning of civilization? of ours?) impression that a lot of things about you lady parts are bad. or at least that you are a compromised version of the parts that male humans wear- and that somehow your functions and physiology make women weaker than men.

so, i'm done apologizing for any of you or feeling embarrassed by you or acting like/receiving the message that you are bad or weak or unpleasant or something. you are what i am biologically supplied with and the things that you can do is pretty amazing. i will start defending you better. my apologies for not catching on sooner.

i finally realize, after a lifetime of being sort of ashamed or annoyed by you, and your bleeding and your reputation, that you're doing exactly what you're built to do. and that's fine. 

so, i was going to title this something like "women's bodies are different and that's ok" but i thought...different THAN....? why do men's anatomy and their hormones get to be the status quo and women's bodies/hormones be the "other?" why are men baseline?

women are constantly being punished and reduced for our biological functions. we're tragically taught that our bodies are useful tools for other people to enjoy and also our burden with which we have to cope. women are being underserved and brutalized for functions of their bodies. from the staggeringly common practice of female genital mutilation to the fact that tampons are not available, taxed and prohibitively expensive for women around the world, and here in the U.S. including especially prisoners and homeless women. that means issues of hygiene, health, humiliation and powerlessness and consequently diminished educational and financial success and autonomy. 

women's bodies aren't gross. they shouldn't be a threat or something to hide. if the things that happen to our bodies in the course of the month or the lifetime are misunderstood, let's educate. not fear. and let's protect and provide.

my dearest lady bits, you do have a different set of complications and maintenance requirements than men's more consistent parts. let's be straight with it. men go through puberty and then have a really slow crescendo and decrescendo with their hormone levels over their lifetime. mine have to do a complete 360 change every single month. you're preparing me to grow a new organ to provide nutrients for ANOTHER FREAKING HUMAN you can grow inside you. and then, every month, if that doesn't work out, you're setting everything back to normal and preparing for it again next month. 

when everything is working *perfectly* we bleed for 1/4 of our lives between puberty and menopause. it's pretty annoying, but your parts and the hormones that drive you are doing your job. 

AND!!! and since the scientists have done THEIR  jobs, i don't have to bleed anymore at all, really, if i don't want to. and that's pretty bitchin.'  (i'm doing a contraception happy dance in my chair right now. you can't see it but it's pretty slammin'). 

real quick on the topic of contraception- outside of a vasectomy (permanent sterilization for a male) the most effective methods are all used by women. so this is again, a huge health/time/stress responsibility and financial burden on women and not men. for some people it's difficult or, even sometimes, dangerous, to use. method options have gotten better and access is getting incrementally easier with healthcare reform, but still it is difficult to obtain for low income/underinsured women. (not men. not an issue for men. i feel like i need to keep repeating this because it's another example of YES, men and women are different. men and women together are enjoying the intercourses and enjoying the prevention of pregnancy through those intercourses, but the huge majority of the responsibility of actually employing the prevention falls on the women).

and of course more available, effective contraception means fewer unplanned pregnancies, means fewer interventions to end those pregnancies (since i think that's what everyone is yelling about, right?) and again, more power to the women...... clinics that provide this service on a sliding fee based on income are rare and there are lawmakers trying to shut them down.

many of my female friends, including lots who are financially independent contributors to society and some providing the primary income in their homes-first used the chain of healthcare clinics for women currently on society's spit- planned parenthood - for contraception when they were having intercourse (as humans do) while uninsured or still on their parents' insurance.

how different would their paths have gone or what difficult decisions would they have been faced with if they did not have discrete clinical care and reliable birth control available for cheap? (not to mention the STI testing and prevention and cancer screenings, etc, etc, etc. i could literally go on all day about this).

and, of course, there's still much debate over who is responsible for the contents of a uterus and that is just a nightmare pile of angry. "pregnancy" is a biological function that happens sometimes when sperm and egg find each other and because it's a potential whole new person inside the normal anatomy of a woman that we're talking about, there's no comparison we can use to men's biological functions....i mean, really, what happens during the course of a man's lifetime that anyone might want to exert any influence over? what healthcare choices does he make that might affect anyone else? seat belt wearing? smoking? managing impotence or erectile dysfunction, i suppose, and the law/healthcare has gotten involved in that some....but i'm scratching my heads for comparisons we can make. we totally interfere with hair growth and loss....we totally interfere with unwanted cysts and prevent and manage unwanted conditions....but because in women the 'condition' we're talking about might be an undesired pregnancy- and that means we're talking a possible new LIFE LIFE LIFE, it's different and more complicated. and maybe because of this difference- our uterus/life boat thing for another potential human being- maybe we'll always be at the mercy of the policy makers.

sigh. i don't know. i'm not going to solve this emotional debate. i'm sure wherever we fall on the topic, we can find loud people and also rational people and also data to prove our points.  i just know that you don't get an unwanted pregnancy if you've prevented the pregnancy in the first place. so women's healthcare is important. and you can't talk women without women's healthcare and you can't talk women's healthcare without reproduction because that system is a biggie in us.

again with the chorus- women and men ARE different. and that is what it is and that's OK.

ANYWAY. i digress.

back to you, lady parts.

you ovaries make hormones. thank you. i am a product of the chemicals coursing through my body. of course my hormones impact me. but it's not mystical. it's science.  that estrogen, progesterone, testosterone affects all my systems. because my hormones cycle fairly dramatically through the course of a month, sometimes the affects can make me seem inconsistent- in adolescence. typically the intense fluctuations have regulated in adulthood.  i have control over what i do with them now that i'm a grown-ass person, but it does take a while during maturation. that's ok. 

since we're sort of on the topic of mood. i am just too exhausted of apologizing for women being "moody." my emotions are not something to be ashamed of. they make me compassionate, empathetic and whole. they are complex and compelling.

they are good. they are solid. 

politically- there's been "concern" about the effect of having estrogen in the white house (which is actually pretty stupid anyway because when does anyone under 50 (premenopausal) win a presidency?  

i would argue that high testosterone has caused way more wars than high estrogen levels ever could. 

i'm still kind of amazed at how 'women's issues' are taking the stage in social media and political discussions right now.  like breast feeding in public and whether there should be mandatory maternity leave.  daaaaaaamn. these are baby issues and lady-baby issues. not a high interest in those two populations in the past. yeah, let's get it all out there and yell until we change some stuff. i like it.

in conclusion (already? geez, you've only written 1,000 paragraphs), we need to stop being shocked that women's bodies and their healthcare requirements are different from men's and we need to support all our citizens equally in achieving their healthcare goals and ambitions.

so, lady bits......you go, girl.  (oh, no she didn't! that was totally like a samantha pun from 'sex and the city.' that was terrible. really. stop).

Villain Von Mayhem: The Early Years

i can count on one hand the number of times i've been able to get anna to fall asleep in her lifetime. without using the boob, that is. she's been weaned for, what, like, 6 months? that's a lot of nights of sleep i've failed to help. i continually fail totally when i try, so pretty much robb just does it. other than when she accidentally falls asleep *near* me, while riding on the bike seat in front of me or in the stroller i'm pushing or something (and i completely take credit), i cannot deliberately make it happen. and it's just me. robb, grandparents, baby sitters- they all manage to do it. i just cannot. can. not.

with me she plays, she riots, she asks for obscure and confusing things. i fall prey to all her tricks. because she is a tiny lawyer and is much smarter than me.

tonight robb dared to exercise at bedtime and so wasn't available to magic her to sleep. God forbid. it took me 1 hour and 15 minutes. epic fail mom. i didn't handle it well. i got really grumpy along the way. i start thinking maybe i just fail at parenting this one. i did alright with the other one, and 1 out of 2 ain't bad, but this one....nope.

but then finally FINALLY she just couldn't scam me anymore and she closed her eyes. after i'd wiped all the snots off her face and somehow unwoven her fingers from the roots of my hair and sat back to stare at her lovely angelic little sleeping face, i concluded that i won't move out or anything. in a desperate pinch when no other adult is anywhere to be found, i'll do. i guess that's worth something.

anyway.

i've talked a lot about what a tough, aggressive, passionate kid she is. she knows what she wants and she makes it happen. she is not afraid to cut a bitch to get her way. it'll serve her well in life, but it's a little bit exhausting right now. thankfully she hasn't shivved anyone at daycare. yet.

we're considering just embracing her early villain tendencies. like kids who show early aptitude for gymnastics get into tumbling class early, we might just get her started now. instead of constantly redirecting her to be nice and kind and cooperative, i'm thinking about just getting her a cape, teaching her how to throw dice, putting an ad out for some big, loyal, kind of dumb sidekicks and, of course, signing her up for science and computer camp ASAP. i might carve out of a corner of the basement for an evil lair. we'll enroll her in the Villain Academy near here where she can Bic her head and take Maniacal Laughter 101 in kindergarten. they do the same things as regular kindergarten, just with a slightly sinister bent. they learn the alphabet, they just use cut-out letters from the newspaper to do it. they build with blocks- they then just blow up the city they built afterwards. stuff like that.

i think it could be great.

we should probably start saving up for her private island now. i wonder what the going rate is.

(a little note: this post is going to drive my mom crazy because for her, anna is a delicate lovely flower and she bristles when we talk about her being a bully. so this is a win-win. i get to vent in a jolly way about my willful child and also make my mom nuts. #mailedit)

Anna is 18 Months Old and I'm Still Recovering from the "Robin Scherbatsky" Cocktail. (Unrelated)

woooooo!!! it's summer time! finally! the busy-ness of this summer has been a bit overwhelming, but it's lifting. it's lifting! so i'm stealing a few mins (that means 'minutes.' you see? so busy can't even finish senten) to finally blog a bit.

the one-act play i was in is done. it went fine. it's done. did i already say that? it was good to be on stage again, but hobbies are for other people for now, i think. what else? our side businesses are growing slowly and that's exciting and a bit nerve-wracking. i continue to LOVE my job. just threw a mean bachelorette party for my sister. it was a 'how i met your mother' themed party and it was legen- wait for it-

anna is now 18 months old. she is hilarious and rambunctious and huge. 

the pediatrician at her well-visit said she's 'advanced.' of course, she was referring to the fact that she already throws a pretty decent temper tantrum, and at such a tender young age, too. neat. :)

she's chatty and stubborn and goofy and brave and we just like her more and more every day.

henry has recently sort of left the stubborn, mad phase and is now pretty reasonable and cooperative. whenever he says "SURE. I CAN DO THAT" instead of arguing with me, i have to kind of take a beat and realize what's happening and change tactics..."well, ok, then. super. let's, uh...do that then....(wuuuut!)" 

we actually took him out on a henry/daddy/mommy date the other night because he's been such a  decent and upstanding citizen lately. we went to sushi, the MAGICAL CANDY SHOP and mini golf. it was a great night all around. he was really sweet and kept wanting to include anna in it when we were making plans, but in the end i think he dug the one-on-two time. his attention was preserved for the first half of the put-put course, which was pretty good (and about the same as mine. 18 holes!? what the what??).

next week they're both to be in a wedding. it's my sister's wedding and it's kind of a big deal. i have to look fancy and robb has to somehow keep the kids wrangled while i'm looking fancy so that they ALSO look fancy and not like blubbering hysterical messes in dress clothes (or out of dress clothes. dress clothes piled around them on the floor.....naked giggling tiny streakers running through the church is one of my well-founded fears). we'll see. my sister is a chill bride and keeps promising she doesn't care what happens with the kids as long as they're there and involved. so....we'll....see.

what else? oh yeah.....maybe my most exciting news that you CANNOT tell my children. you have to promise. pinky swear. i mean it.....our families have agreed against all sound judgement to watch the kids for a loooooong weekend this fall. it's our anniversary and robb and i are going to orlando (in florida!) for a medical conference for me and some kid-less time at the parks!!!!!  i cannot even calculate how awesome this is going to be, but also i feel tremendous guilt. the dates are marked in my calendar as "bad parent vacation."

i'll work on getting over it.

-dary. legendary.

The Working Title of this Post is "Fuck Summer" But I'll Probably Change It

first, let me catch up on what's been happening 'round these parts. it's been ages since i've blogged. i have a half dozen posts started in my head and notes app on my phone, but actually sitting down for any length of time alone at a computer with a keyboard hasn't happened.

work is busy, as usual. kids are busy, as usual. in addition to weekly swimming lessons, we've been doing soccer lessons for henry, too. anna is...very attached to me. she's getting more interesting and fun and speaking real english words, but now has the words to express EXACTLY what she isn't getting or how i could RIGHT NOW better serve her. and she says "chewbacca" but still won't say "henry." i think it's very much on purpose and she's trying to establish control. like refusing to say 'voldemort,' maybe? if you say his name you give him power or something?

henry has started breaking out of the house because he can and all of jokes end in BUTT HAHAHAHAHA. his hair has gotten really long and he's been refusing to get it cut, but i'm making him because today he started doing the jusin bieber head flick to get it out of his eyes. NOPE.

we're still working on our side businesses and figuring out how to grow those. and we're all in/involved in my sister's wedding next month, so there are parties to plan and dresses to fit and legs to shave and children to coax into tuxes for that, too. and then i auditioned for and got into a one-act play, so i've been rehearsing for that in my "spare time."

i sheepishly admitted that i was doing this play on top of everything else and a good friend said "you're such an idiot." #truth. that's how you know the people who really love you. they will call you on your idiot ways and always reveal your #truths to you.  it's too late, though. next time i'm call her first before i make the bad choice (no i will not. we both know i will not).

ANYway, so that's all to say that all kind of kid blog-worthy things have happened that i haven't gotten out of my head and onto the "page."

warning: much whining to follow. and poop. always with the poop.

first. summer is an enormous let-down when you're responsible for little kids. i mean, srsly, it's one of those things that should be and HAS been so glorious and is SO ruined by small children. (blessings. they are. you know i know they are. love them. so grateful. ok. going to keep whining now).

i think of summer like it was in high school. these long days with not much to do. lying out meant actually risking being there long enough to get burned or sweaty. the beach was a thing we did. we ambled. we even got bored sometimes. we walked a lot just to be doing something. there were endless lazy gatherings of friends and new loves and fireflies and bonfires and just peace.

so NOW, summer is sunscreen in the eyeball but not on the back of the tiny neck where now it's all red. layers of bug spray. and fucking TICKS everywhere! in my yard, in my dreams, everywhere. (is that a target lesion!?) flowers and plants you put in the ground on purpose being pulled out by the roots by cackling mischief in purple shoes. and they ALWAYS want to be outside. which is so great! yay! kids still want to explore nature and not watch TV all the time. yes! call the journalists! except there's still crap i need to get done inside the house and i cannot leave them alone outside because they will obviously relieve themselves of life.

srsly. summer means new ways for the kids to kill themselves like in pools and drinking from rusty hoses and running loose into the street. and in those same bonfires that used to be sexy and fun.

all mammals get squirrely in nice weather, i think. kids are, of course, not exceptions- maybe actually models of squirrelyness. so i find myself saying more than usual "look at my face. do you see that it is talking and those words are directed at you? you have to at least acknowledge that i am speaking." and you, know, by the time i finish that needlessly long statement, she is in the garage checking out the weed poisons and he is streaking naked through the front yard wielding the gardening sheers .

so a few weeks ago i got out the filthy blow-up pool from last season that we had just sort of let rot over the winter. because i was simultaneously watching the kids/preventing their demises, it took me FOREVER to wash the thing and figure out how to blow it up. i mean, like 2 hours of yelling and mild successes and then more yelling and finally, big empty raft. (where is robb in all this, you ask? he's been putting out these glorious meals from the grill that take about 3 hours to prep and serve, so he's off the hook for much of the day as he "makes dinner." it's all a very elaborate ploy but it gets good grilled food in my belly, so i'm playing along).

so, anyway. pool finally inflated...and as soon as the 30 degree water from the hose is in it, both kids jumped in, fully clothed.

and she was in her regular diaper.

and so.

'is that a wood chip? why would there be a wood chip in the water? we don't have any----ooooooh noooo!'

so i emptied, re-washed and deflated the stupid poop pool.

fuck summer.

She Speaks.

anna started saying sentences recently. 

'I POOP' which is actually kind of amazing since it's accurate a large amount of the time to a diaper full of turd or at least heavy urine.

and this morning at 6am when she had dropped a spider ring she found while pillaging, 'WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT?'

and a variation on that, always looking for her brother, 'WHERE HE GO? WHERE HE GO?'

there's a person in that baby!! it's so exciting. firey little ginger baby can now scream words at us instead of just sounds. 

two videos i took tonight that demonstrate her speech and comprehension and mastery of menace.

1. 'I POOP'

http://youtu.be/RzJRLNd1q5I

2. (and number 2...) 'I POOPED BUT YOU CAN'T CATCH ME')

http://youtu.be/SyH9gMExAOw

ANNAmal is 17 months

anna continues to be a wonderful raging lunatic. she is absolutely afraid of nothing and she gives deep hugs. she likes to read books and backs herself into a cozy hole next to you when you offer to read one to her. she climbs everything and falls off of most of it. if someone dares to take something from her, she tea kettle screams and shakes and her head spins entirely around on her neck. she does not like to be screwed with at all. 

her language is really showing up lately and it's so fun. she had new words every day this week, it seemed. tonight she said "POPCORN." she won't say henry's name yet, but if you say "say Henry" she laughs and starts puckering her lips for a kiss and scrambles to run and find him wherever he is to plant one on him. he's very indulgant and seems to like her a lot. thank God. 

she sounds a lot like christopher walken when she talks. "you want to watch a show, anna?" "SHAH-OH." i'll get her to say champagne next. 

DO I HAVE TO GET POKES?

henry was a war hero today getting his four year old vaccines.

on the way there, we talked at length about how pokes are valuable because they give us a little germ that teaches our bodies how to build army cells to kill that germ if it ever shows up again, so the germ can't make us sick.

he did a great job processing it and came to terms w/ it and gave the nurse permission to administer them, even watched the needle. she was great, informative and also very straight with him. he sat on his own and got through it like a champ.

i'm so thankful. i want him to be the one who owns his body and has knowledge about it & grants or denies access to it. i'm so glad he's who he is- this stuff getting easier the older he gets. i have nightmares of holding kids down for shots in my peds rotation in PA school.

he told robb when he got home that he USE-D THE FORCE TO BE BRAVE.

that's some jedi peace of mind right there.

Henry's 4th It Was, It Was

henry is 4 years old now. 

the other day, i picked him up and put him on his little stool he uses to reach the sink when brushing his teeth and he said something like MOM, YOU HAVE TO STOP PICKING ME UP. I'M A BIG GUY NOW.

i am not typically sentimental about the children emerging from the babies that were, but this birthday has me a little moist around the eyeballs. 

he's such a real person now. with such a huge, sassy head. i'm crazy for him and this is the best he's ever been in all his years of best-ness-es. he's clever and funny and sweet, so achingly sweet. he's always learning and growing the brain and you can see him set up and realign his position on the world constantly as he inputs new data. it's so cool. he's imaginative and goofy and good. so good. 

he's also a little schmo sometimes, but that's his duty. 

anyway. he had a really great birthday party. actual friends from preschool came, which blew his little mind. i had my reservations at first about having stranger parents to my house and having to be social with them (since i feel so awkward in these kinds of exchanges) and i totes mailed it in with last-second invites scribbled on note paper and copied and shoved in their kids' preschool boxes....but they came and it wasn't weird at all and henry was in his bliss. (ok, it was a little weird. i was a little weird. at some point i completely introduced one set of parents to their own son because i'd forgotten who belonged to who, but.....well....)

the other reason i might be a bit moist around the eyeballs is my hormonal imbalance related to the menstruations. i won't contaminate henry's birthday post with talk of my vaginal goings-on, but prepare yourselves, because much talk of lady parts are on their way to an upcoming post. 

toodles!