Moving Day!

So I'm moving! Well, not out of my house (Thank God. The idea of going through every little thing and packing it up makes me dry-heave a bit)... but out of this url.

About a year ago I felt it was time to step out there and start a blog. Not a Mommy-blog full of milestones and updates (which I had), but a me blog... well, not a ME blog. Nobody wants to read about just me. But a God/Homeschooling/SPD'ing/Learning/Loving/Growing Blog.

This last year had me learning a lot about myself and about blogging in general. I've spent a lot of time in the last 6 months pinning and reading and learning and webinar-ing ... and now I put on my big girl panties and I'm going out there. In the big wide bloggy world.

For the next year this will be my job. My no-pay, no-benefits, no-vacation, plenty-of-faith job.

Scary? Yes.

Exciting? Yes.

Am I ready for it? I sure do hope so.

This means getting a big girl blog, and putting the work into it.

So for the next few days, which will most likely turn into weeks, I'll be unpacking and setting up house over at the new website. Once I'm settled in I'll have a housewarming and you'll ALL be invited! Keep an eye out for the big announcement... and follow me over there!

Web Browsers

A mini post. It started as a Facebook Rant but it was a little too long so now it's a post. But not really a REAL post... so it's a mini post:



After an hour (AN HOUR) of trying to figure out how to set up my "My Verizon" account and losing connection with both the "chat help" and a phone rep I get to my third verizon customer service rep of the evening...Third. I was not happy at this point.

Me: "I'm not able to register my account. After I give it my account number and zip code it loops back to the home screen of the verizon web page."

Customer Service: "Hmmm. What web browser are you using?"

Me: "Chrome"

Customer Service: "Ok, you're gonna wanna use Explorer to navigate the Verizon webpage. Are you using Explorer?"

Me: ಠ_ಠ  -deep breath- "Yes, I pay an exorbitant amount of money that you will not budge a penny in my favor for your FIOS service that you advertise hits speeds of 500 Mbps to use.... Internet Explorer."

No I didn't really say that. I screamed it in my head.

What I really said is "Hold on. I have Firefox."

First world problems.

SNOW DAY!

I love Snow Days. I spent the first 11 years of my life in a place that never, ever, ever had snow days. Nope. In fact we had ONE day that they closed school for...wait for it... excessive heat!

We moved to Upstate New York in the summer of 1992. The winter season to come would be the largest amount of snowfall that the year had seen in decades. The winter of '93. My first snow day turned into a snow WEEK! The apartment complex snow plows had made mounds as tall as our townhouse! We would climb up with our sleds and then go down off of our ROOFS! It was like nothing I had ever seen before or since.

After I finished high school I went right back into the school system as an ASL interpreter for Oswego County BOCES. Snow Day Bonanza! From November to March at 5 am I would turn on the news and see if I had to work that day.

Even when I left BOCES to do a "real job" I still watched the crawler across the bottom of the screen every morning. In between cups of coffee and blow drying my hair I'd yell to my husband "Oh, East Syracuse is closed!......There goes Liverpool!......North Syracuse is still just a 2 hour, wait! Nope. Closed!"

Still, to this day, I check the list on my phone.... borderline obsessively.... when it snows. But it doesn't stop my plans or change my life that day as a stay at home, homeschooling Momma. We play in it but we still school on. But there's an electric excitement in my day knowing... it's a snow day

This is an accurate illustration of my 30-something self 

when we have a snow day in our district.

Yesterday was our first official "Snow Day" of Kindergarten. I saw it coming on Saturday and I knew I needed to get in on this one, it might be our last of the season. We set up some tentative plans and shared the excitement with the child as it was all hinging on one precious thing... a snow day. The hushed excitement of the words "snow day" as they came out of her mouth let me know she understood.

That snow days were magical and wonderful and rarely seen... like a unicorn.

I woke up at 6:30 am and checked the list. Snow. Day. Baby!

We dropped our school plans and played with public school friends as they celebrated their day off from school. It was a beautiful, chaotic, fantastic, mess.... exactly what childhood needs every once in a while.

This is what we learned on our day off:

1- Uno's has free lunches for kids on snow days.

2- 10 hours of playing = 12+ hours of sleep that night

3- Friends are wonderful and fun and amazing and we love every moment with them... but Daddy is her favorite to person on the planet to play with.

4- I'm so blessed to be a stay at home, homeschooling mother of one amazingly awesome little girl.

I mean, really. I am. Sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.

As much as I love it and would trade it for nothing in this world, do I see the laundry and the dishes and cleaning and the cooking and the curriculum and the teaching and the reading, writing, mathing.....the repetitive nature of my day-to-day glamourous in any sense of the word? No. Not at all.

No, in fact last week I got all dolled up for Wednesday morning only to not shower/change/perform-any-personal-hygiene-beyond-brushing-teeth-and-hair again until Friday.... afternoon. Yeah, that's hot. My husband is one lucky man.

But I have this window. This teeny tiny, no redos or take backs, window to do THIS. And once it's gone it's gone. I can't get it back. There's no redeeming motherhood.

If we don't stop and see the glory in the, if not moments, the seasons then we're missing His plan, His lessons for our lives.

My season is Motherhood. Yes, motherhood is forever and I don't think I'll ever sleep as soundly or relax so completely as I did before my child walked the Earth... but This season is for Motherhood. Capital "M".

This Motherhood season is for building a person. For instilling truths and confidence in who they are as a creation of God. For learning how they're wired and exploring the beauty of their own individuality in a world that desires to put everything and everyone in a tidy box along with the facts and numbers that define them. To show them the world and the beauty in it and the Creator who made it all, just for them and give a soft place to be as they learn how sharp the world can be. To read the the adventures of Winnie the Pooh and Peter Pan and Gerald and Piggie until my throat is sore. To snuggle and play and enjoy the too short season of childhood.

I say this without an ounce of martyrdom.

Because one day in 15, 10, 5 years things will change as they have changed from the last 5 years. I am no longer lost in the complete need of one tiny person. As she craves space, I recieve space.  My dreams that have been tucked into my heart are being unpacked and considered little by little until I find my next season.

Spending time with others have gotten there, their season of finding dreams, the childish mentality of "why not me?" creeps up... and in that moment. Before I fall fully into the spiral of disappointment. I stop and look to God and say "Why not me? Why have I not found what you have created me for? Why have I not found the one thing that makes my soul sing? Why has this sense of unfulfillment been the thorn in my side? Why have I never, ever been able to answer the question 'What do you want to be when you grow up?'"

And as still and as loud as anything I have ever heard He says to me.... for THIS season. I need you HERE in THIS spot for THIS season.

To be a port in the storm.

To give structure and flexibility in one motion.

To make this space a place to restore spirits.

So here I am, knowing that this is short, what's next is big and beautiful, and that truly there is glory in the day-to-day if I do what I am called to do.

And that in its own way THAT is glamourous.

THAT is magical and wonderful and rarely seen... like a unicorn. Or a Snow Day.

That one I couldn't come up with a title for...

11 years ago this little movie came out. I'm sure you've never heard of it. "Mean Girls"? Oh, you have? Well I haven't. It may have come on my radar, but blipped off just as fast as it blipped on. I mean, 11 years ago, I was fresh out of teenager-hood. I was 21 and convinced, as a married woman with a mortgage and two completed car loans between my husband and I, I was fully grown up and shunned anything that teenagers even remotely showed an interest in. (But, unlike today, I was keenly aware what was "in"... Where on Earth did Arrianna Grande come from... and did I even spell that right?!)

I wasn't interested in the music and laughed at the stupidity of "Don't 'Cha" by "The Pussycat Dolls". Really? I'm supposed to take this seriously. Pussy. Cat. Dolls? Yeah, no.

I did not get this complete obsession over this book, "Twilight". I mean, sparkly vampires? No. Nope. I mean, this vampire, spends all his time mooning over this mopey girl for why? I just didn't get it. (and still don't. I mean, I know and love many people who are borderline obsessed... I'm. just. not.... but I still love you!)

I wasn't one for high school comedies. I had seen "American Pie" and I've had enough of that. Thank you very much. Ewww.

Then time went on, cable was (is) crazy expensive and Netflix became a viable option for our day-to-day entertainment... then God said let there be streaming.

I found the awesomeness of "30 Rock" and Tina Fey. (and soon after "Parks and Rec" and Amy Poehler) I devoured her show and then her biography (Amy, too). I realized, slowly that I loved them. I loved their power. I loved their confidence. I loved that they played the "boys game" of humor and won. Girls could be funny, I mean REALLY funny. I loved that they could be funny without the trap of exclusively being gross about sex,  like so many female comediennes fall into.

Side note: Sex isn't funny. Sex is awesome, with a bit of hilarity sprinkled in because it's also kinda embarrassing and gross... but really, really it's awesome. Really awesome.... with the.... and the..... yeaaaaahhhh.....

Wait, what I was saying?..... Oh yeah, "Mean Girls". Tina Fey wrote and had a fairly big role (bigger than I expected) in this movie. Lo and behold, this month it's on Netflix. Streaming.

Have you seen this movie? No. Ok, go on Netflix and come back. I'll see you in 97 minutes, 92-ish if you don't watch the end credits. No, really go watch it because there's gonna be some new things that enter my vocabulary that you're gonna want some point of reference on.  Such as:

  

Ok I'm gonna stop so you can watch it.

 Watch it now. Go.
...
...
...

So, what did you think? I know, right?!

Me too!

Yep, I'm 15 years out of High School and I completely relate to everything T-Dawg (That's what Tina Fey wants her friends to call her. What-eves. She's so obsessed with me.) wrote in this movie. But one part. One statement stopped me cold:

Cady: "The weird thing about hanging out with Regina was that I could hate her, and at the same time, I still wanted her to like me."

What the what?

Does she live in my head? Because sometimes, when I look at a situation that really stresses me out I can call it what it is: this out of balance mentality of making sure the "right" people like me.

People that have hurt me. That have caused me tears.

People that scare me. That make me doubt myself and who I am.

People who intimidate me. That are smarter, thinner, prettier, God-li-er... better... than me.

People who have left me behind. That were once oh-so-close and now rarely look me in the eye.

.... and I want them to like me. A LOT.

I want their affirmation and accolades and friendships... because I'm a little sick in the head a people pleaser.

But it needs to stop... and in the last year or so I've really worked on the concept that I need to LOVE everyone but I don't necessarily need to LIKE everyone.... and if I'm going to be the real me that God made me and make the right decisions for me and my family, not everyone is gonna like ME.... and that's OK. I mean, it's gonna be uncomfortable maybe... but it's OK.

Because part of leaving High School, growing up, is leaving behind the "frenemies". I have no time for that. I've got a Husband, a Child, a House. Homeschooling, housekeeping, serving, banking, cooking, cleaning, crafting, studying, therapy-ing, LIVING takes up all my time. Should I spend a moment of my extra time obsessing about what random people think of me?

And when I say random I mean RANDOM.

Now before any of of my real people friends wonder "Is Jess talking about me? Does she truly hate me?" No. Listen to me.... NO. Because if you're a real people friend I want you in my life. I want to spend time with you and I choose to spend time with you, because I love you. It's not a perfect world and it's not as often as I would like.... but I love you. Is that clear? LOOOOOOVE!

I'm just sayin' that moment, the realization put out into words, of "Why am I fighting for this one person's affirmation when I don't even really LIKE them?" is huge. 

I mean, truly, only one person's opinion EVER matters....

And He sees me, not at my good-hair-day, full-make up best. 

But at my worst. 

My ugliest.

My bed head and morning breath

At my angriest, at my most bitter, at my most jealous and full of resentment. 

That He holds me through my cycles of depression and rage. 

That He sits next to me as I sin over and over and over again.... and He holds my red tear-stained face in His nail pierced hands and says 'You're worth it. The suffering and loneliness and pain that I went through. I'd do it all over again for you. Just for you.'

This truth is so big and so real I'll just leave you with this perfect illustration of me writing this post:

New Year

Now that the glitter has rubbed off of the new year we see the grey plastic mold underneath showing where it's been worn most. The sparkles of what we promised ourselves and others are all over the floor and crushed into the carpet. A reminder of where we fell short every time we catch the shine when the sun hits just right.

We were meant to be a new person by now. A better person than we were 20 days ago.

Eating better.

Organizing better.

Cleaning better.

Teaching better.

Mothering better.

Wife-ing better.

Praying better.

Learning better.

Following better.

Stewarding better.

Discipling better.

Loving better.

But here we are. The same person we've been all along. Because re-wiring a human takes a lot of work.... and that's OK.

So we adopt words, phrases, verses to get us through. To help keep us on track. I've come across many that my friends have shared and I love learning a little more about them as they put ownership on what they need most this year. 

When I truly look at all that needs to change in my little bubble, all I need to improve on, it's an enormous task. And here, my friends, here is where I found my resolution. My phrase. My ownership.

That's right, eating elephants.

The funny part about all this is that the word "elephants" is my default noun. Anytime I need to buy myself a few minutes with my child I throw out "elephants".

"Mommy, what are we having for dinner?"
Elephant burritos.

"Where are we going?"
To see the elephants.

"Can we go swim today?"
No, too many elephants in the pool.

"Are we there yet?"
There's elephants in the road slowing down traffic.

(It doesn't work as well now that she's older. Instead of a moment of confused silence I get "Moo-oooooo-ooooom!")

Elephants.

I know I've heard this phrase before and shrugged it off as a bad joke. But when you sit on it. Think of the reality of it there's so much truth there. When an insurmountable task is ahead of you it can feel like an elephant. And if you really needed to eat one the only way to get it done? One bite at a time.

When it comes to :

Eating better.

Organizing better.

Cleaning better.

Teaching better.

Mothering better.

Wife-ing better.

Praying better.

Learning better.

Following better.

Stewarding better.

Discipling better.

Loving better.

I can only do it....one bite at a time. 

Paved with good intentions.

I love Christmas.

I'm the dork blaring the Christmas Music at the stoplight on November 2nd.

I'm the one that walks around Hobby Lobby in October wistfully dreaming of snow as I walk up and down the aisles of ribbon and greenery.

I'm the one in Toys-R-Us filling the shopping cart in September (OK, August) for my Christmas Present layaway.

I love it.

I love the tree, the nativity, the garlands, the stockings, the cookies, the advent calenders, the tree lightings, the cards, the parades, the centerpieces, the wreaths, the lights, the snow, the ornaments, the specials, the parties, the food, the wrapping, the Nutcracker Ballet...

But I'm sorry. I have to stop.

I'm tapping out.

I want to do the Random Acts of Kindness calendar, Shepard's Pouches, and yes... even though it's kinda-sorta creepy and we don't do Santa..... I do want to do Elf on the Shelf, but I'd end up doing Wandering Wisemen.

But I can't.

Because it's going to. kill. me.

Well, maybe not kill me. No, I'll most likely live to see the new year in... But it's going to kill my soul. The joy that comes with this special time of year.

You know, that joy our children have when they see a 40 foot Christmas tree light up for the first time that season. Or when they find the perfect tree at the tree farm and pull it out of the forest all on their own. Or when they decorate sugar cookies and "sneak" a few M&Ms between each plop of icing.

They're happy little balls of joy.

And why? Is it the daily advent calendar with it's family activity and/or goodie? Is it the checking off of to-do lists? Is it the shopping on top of the shopping you've already done for things nobody needs?

Nope. It's because they DON'T do any of that stuff. They just coast along enjoying whatever comes their way. Dreaming of goodies and toys and fun.

Now, are any of of these Pinterest-y/ Facebook-y activities bad? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!

If you want to do it, go nutty! Be a Super-Pinterest-Woman. Make that garland! Do your advent calendar! Bake 4 dozen of 12 different cookies!  Do a whole darn gingerbread village! Host a both a family AND friend party... on the same weekend! I've had years like that!

This year, not so much apparently.

This year I've felt the call to slow down. To be present with both my husband and child. To meet their needs (not what I feel they should have, based on glossy magazine covers designed by a team of stylists) when all they really need is me. Sane, relaxed, and providing a peaceful place to be.... and homemade hot chocolate with marshmallows.

I'm not saying we're having PB&J's for Christmas dinner. I'm saying it's gonna be a pre-prepped, shove in the oven, two crockpots running kind of Christmas. It's gonna be a popsicle stick ornament kind of Christmas. It's gonna be use what we already have for decorations kind of Christmas. It's gonna be going under budget kind of Christmas. It's gonna be less doing and more being. And that's OK.

Although my intentions of what Christmas should be is a bit more polished and perfect... It's not what it will be. It's messy and imperfect... and mine. And exactly the way God wanted it to be.

My intentions my be good, but getting to that perfect Southern Living look sure can be hell. On everyone.

credit: Ann VosKamp

aholyexperience.com

Why We Homeschool

About four-five years ago, long before we knew how our child was wired, I came across this little video.... and it floored me. Stopped me in my tracks. Not because of what  Sir Ken Robinson said, not because of the entertaining illustrations.... but what God told me the moment it was over.



"You will be a homeschooling family."



See, I had no choice in the matter. He said it, and even though some days it scares the snot out of me, most of the time it is truly the most rewarding part of being a parent. Watching her learn to read and write and do number sentences and about the world around her is like watching her be born all over again a hundred times a day.



So yes. We homeschool so we can instill our values in our child. We homeschool because of the way our child learns. We homeschool because a 1:1 teacher/child ratio is much better than a 1:25-30. We homeschool because we want to build up her strengths and shore up her weaknesses. We homeschool because we want to educate the whole child, not just the parts that can be measured by standardized testing. We homeschool because she is an amazingly intelligent, creative, articulate, eager to learn child and we did not want to give that gift to anyone who may choose to crush it to fit their mold of what she should be instead of loving her for who she is.



But the number one reason we homeschool is that the system is broken and we can't sit around waiting for it to be fixed.









*- As you can see the problem is with the system, not the teachers. I love me some teachers. Some of my greatest homeschooling resources come from teachers. A good portion of teachers are handcuffed as to what they can do. I see that, we all see that. Please don't send your union rep after me.



**- If you can you should totally watch "Waiting for Superman" and "Class Dismissed". Both are required watching for those who are homeschooling or thinking of homeschooling.



***- If you choose not to homeschool please, please, please don't feel guilty reading this. I very rarely get on my homeschooling soapbox. Mostly because I don't want anyone to feel like they "should" homeschool. It's not for every family. That's fine. It's not a mark of a good mother or a promise of a smarter child.... You do what is best for your family because that's who God gave you.

So what do you say after that?

"Hey, I walked through fire with Jesus beside me. I danced with depression for longer than I'd like to admit and fooled so many of you as we chatted over coffee. I lost a part of myself that I most likely won't ever be able to get back and I still walk a fine line between anger and acceptance over it.... SO HERE'S HOW I MADE THIS DOILY FROM ALL THE DUSTBUNNIES I FOUND UNDER MY COUCH!"

No.

Just, no.

So what do I say?

I say I'm thankful. Honest to goodness thankful.

Enough.

The timing is right for this post*. I've written so many things but without this story, without this base... none of it makes sense. So I delete them and write on crash pads and body wash. I'm going out on a limb here. Gonna put some real stuff out here. Not looking for pity or sympathy or anything.... just giving out some real. -deep breaths-

This is the (lightly edited) testimony I shared with my MOPS group at the very beginning of the year. The one that started all this.... stuff. The real reason I wanted to start this. I mean, yay on the crash pads and body wash... but I'm nothing if not real. And real needs some brave to get it going. -deep breaths-




Hi, I’m Jessica. If we haven’t had a chance to really chat there are three things you need to know about who I am:

1- I have no filters. No, I HAD filters but I think they broke or need to be changed or something and I just don’t have time for that stuff right now… so I have no filters. Someone recently asked me if I listened to the words that come out of my mouth and I responded “NO. Then I’d be really upset with myself most of the time!” So forgive me. No filters.

2- You must understand that I don’t judge anyone’s mothering. No, Really. I have no time to judge you. I’m too busy judging myself.  Every day. Every moment.

3- In the end I truly believe that every mother who is at least trying to be a mother, is doing the very best THEY can do for THEIR child.  Because HE gave us our children knowing who WE are to our core.

I say all this so that you know nothing that follows comes from a place of judgment (not even for my own parents) but from a place that God has brought me to.

So back to my story....I was a happy surprise: the first child to a couple living in the mountains of Virginia.

Like most couples my parents wanted more than just one child. They wanted a real family. My parents made no secret of it and although I knew they loved me my little child mind took their endless “trying to conceive”, fertility treatments and in vitro fertilization appointments as “Jessica, you are not enough.”

It continued. The words that came from my parent’s actions were:

I wasn’t pretty enough.

I wasn’t skinny enough.

I wasn’t quiet enough.

I wasn’t creative enough.

I wasn’t athletic enough.

I wasn’t a good enough student.

I wasn’t a good enough friend.

I wasn’t a good enough daughter.

Not enough.

After 10 years of  failed attempts and a couple of lost babies my parents finally had my brother in 1991……in the midst of my father’s infidelity.

And when my father finally decided to leave my Mom for another woman during Christmas of 1992 and I tearfully asked him to stay...If only for me...

His leaving said more than any words he could ever say: I wasn’t enough.

My parents divorced and My mother moved 11 year old me and my 1 year old brother up to Upstate New York to be closer to her family. A strange land of snow, cold and salt. I had never seen more than 3 inches of snow at one time and we had arrived the summer before the famed “Winter of ‘93”. It was a new world to say the least.

Even though we had a new life the record was the same:

I wasn’t enough.

And I believed it, whole heartedly.

Even after I accepted Christ and found my future husband (all in one summer. Woot-woot!) I still believed the track my parents gave me. Their actions continued to prove that I wasn’t enough.

I went on with life; graduated High School, got married. Got a job or two. Bought a house. And enjoyed life with just me and my husband  for 7 whole years.

Then five years ago I had a child. My beautiful little girl. I tell her every day she is my gift from God because she is.

I prayed for a beautiful, smart, outgoing, fearless (believing it would be easier to reign in fearless-ness than teach confidence. HA!), compassionate, helpful, Jesus-loving little girl. I wanted her to be adventurous and receive whatever God had planned for her with open arms and a joyful heart. To have my eye color and lashes and Cor’s height and smile. And He gave it to me. All of it.
       

And in the weeks that followed I found I was finally enough.

I was post-baby glowing; I was pretty enough.

I snapped back to pre-pregnancy weight -10 pounds; I was skinny enough.

I could help my itty bitty one off to sleep with just a boob and a rocking chair; I was quiet enough.

I went from a 40 hour a week job to staying home with an infant who slept all. The. Time. I finally had time to craft to my heart’s content; I was creative enough.

And Athletic? Well, you can’t have it all..

I was a good enough Wife

I was a good enough Mother.

Finally I was enough. Motherhood made me enough.

So why just one? Why wouldn’t I do it all again?

In October of 2012 I lost a 6(ish) week pregnancy. It was hard, I cried but I was really OK. I named him October. I loved him (or her) and the little man (or lady) he (or she) would have been. I mourned for the thought of the child more than the child itself and found it easier to deal with at the time.

The second time we were so close to being “safe”. She was so much like her sister I knew she was a girl. It was love at first morning sickness all over again. I had named this one Sparrow. Her name came from my favorite hymn.

“I don’t know about tomorrow
it may bring me poverty
but the one who feeds the sparrow
is the one who stands by me”

I knew THIS time Jesus was standing by me. THIS time would be it.  That He knew I was enough to be a Mommy again. But nearly 12 weeks in I had lost her; 3 days before my 31st birthday.

And there I was, alone in the exam room, sobbing as I was losing my sweet fragile little Sparrow. Not enough all over again.

Not even for God… not enough to give me another child. Just one more little one, I wasn’t being greedy.

But the song continues:

“And the path that be my portion
May be through the flame or flood
But his presence goes before me
And I’m covered with His blood.

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand”

I am enough for Him. Enough for Him to go through all the rage and resentment and anger and sorrow and hate and everything I felt towards Him and every single pregnant woman around me popping out babies like gumball machines.

He was with me as I wept, as I slept away my afternoons because it was easier than functioning as an adult.

As I parked in the “expectant mother” parking spot at Wegman’s because passive aggression is a great release sometimes.

As I tried to live a Christian life while ignoring Him as being a part of it.

But even more precious than  Him waiting though all of that is that he waited for me to get to the other side.

To where I know my mothering isn’t based on how full my quiver is. That I’m just as good of a mother with one little girl as Michelle Dugger is with her 18? 19? 31? Kids.

To knowing I am not less blessed with my one child than those with more babies than bedrooms.

To the point where I know I’m enough for Him, and that’s all that matters.

And slowly I’m getting to the point where He is enough for me. Some days are better than others. And some days I’m thankful for unanswered prayers (Did I mention that my child was fearless?). But I’m getting there. To enough.



A few weeks ago my sweet daughter and I were sitting on the couch chatting.

“Mommy, you have one little girl.”

Yep, one sweet little girl.

“Some Mommies have girls and some Mommies have boys.”

That’s the way God planned it out.

“Some Mommies have lotsa little boys and girls.”

Yep.

“But you have just one Me.”

Yep.

“Is that enough?”

And here was my moment of truth.

Here was God looking at me through her little child eyes and saying: “Here’s what you prayed for. Every little detail in one little package that I made for you, just for you, before YOU were even born. Is it enough?”

My sweet human. You are enough for me. Every day. Every minute. Every second. You are more than enough and a little extra on the side.

*I had originally planned to post this on October 15th: National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day....but things didn't work out as I had planned. As they rarely do. Since 1988 the whole month has been dedicated to remembering our nation's lost children. I felt it was only right to stop in the middle of my daily madness and remember our two lost children, even if it wasn't on the 15th.

I know we are not alone in this. That we live life with many hurting Mommies and Daddies. It doesn't make it easier... It doesn't make it better... But maybe we can all heal a little stronger with each other's support. Or at least know we're not alone. Nothing is worse than suffering loss all on your own. Don't. Reach out. Find someone. Share your story.

And most importantly, if you're a Momma of a lost child and hear nothing else in what I've said hear this: It's. Not. Your. Fault. You ARE enough. 

Romans 12:15

I've been considering closing my Facebook account. It's just too emotionally draining.

No, not the whole comparison thing. I'm kinda in a good place with all that. I mean, there will always be someone more __________ than me. Have more ____________ than me. And that's OK. Because I am where I am because He wants me there... with Him. Sittin' right here. And if He's sittin' with me who am I to complain?

No, not that. There's just a lot. (And bear with me 'cuz you're gonna need tissues if you're gonna click on these links.) 

There's the public stuff found on my newsfeed.... 

A beautiful 29 year old woman choosing to end her life before cancer does. 

(and the be story of another woman, a mother of four young children, also dying of cancer pleading with her about her choice.)

The couple who lovingly planned a 'bucket list' for their unborn child meeting him face to face and saying goodbye to him this very morning. 

.... and the private stuff of those around me. Friends of friends, family of family... dealing with things that we were never designed in mind to deal with.

I find myself with no words...

....and all I can think is Romans 12:15

(Let's all pretend this is a self portrait, OK?)

I used to struggle with the first half SO MUCH. So very much. But the longer I experience adult life the more I can see His blessings. (more in hindsight than I'd like to admit) I've learned to rejoice with those who rejoice. Truly. Some days may be harder than others... I'm 95% of the way there. 

So I rejoice with those who rejoice. Which we all can agree is fun, once you get there. Sharing in their new jobs and new vehicles and new pets and new babies. 

We bounce around through life, accumulating children and homes and vehicles and stuff.....And adulthood rolls on... 

...and the children get older, 

...and our parents get older,

...and we get older. 

Things happen. Real things. 

And what do we do then? What do we do when we're not enough to help our kids, or our parents, or ourselves?

We weep.

We sit with, eat with, cry with, pray with those around us. We either weep because they're happening to us or weeping at the helplessness that comes with watching our friends suffer. The real face-to-face friends and the ones that we've adopted in our hearts.

When we really weep with those who weep, it doesn't stop when they've walked away from the dining room table. It's so much more and so much harder than that. It's hard to see those we love, those we've rejoiced with only what seems like moments before, suffer. To see the unsaid question of "Why would God, who says He loves me, do this?" in their eyes. To know we have no answers. We take that burden and wear it ourselves. For them and, because of our human nature, for us. Snuggling with our children a little longer. Calling our parents "just because". Making that appointment for the long postponed "yearly" physical. Looking at our spouse simply to see the person we fell in love with years ago.

So you know what? I'll stay on facebook. I'll post the silly things of my day (Because if I get a laugh out of it, you should too!) and the fun things and the awareness things....

...and I'll like the photo of your sweet goofy kids. 

...and I'll commiserate with you as you share your struggles through yet another school day.

...and I'll "Wooo-hoo" your trip to Trader Joe's. ('cuz it's about stinkin' time we got one!!)

...and I'll tear up at the announcement of your pet passing.

... and I'll smile at the family fun you are having on a random Tuesday.

... and I'll sit with and pray for you as you face something you never thought would happen to you and yours. 

I'll rejoice with those of your rejoicing.

I'll weep with those of you weeping. 

Even when it's hard. 

Make It Monday: PT Edition

It's Monday. I made something. Make it Monday is back, Boy-eeeeee!!!!

So, yeah, we pretty much have the best PT office on the face of the planet. They're just MADE to do what they do. The whole place rocks. Need a reference? Let me know. I'll point you in their direction. Anyway, we've been on a "crash pad wait-list" for months. MONTHS. Which is fine. We're not the only family that needs a crash pad. And our turn came up! 

What's a crash pad? Oh, honey, a crash pad is God's perfect gift to sensory seeking kiddos. It's basically a giant pillowcase filled with foam chunks. Nothing fancy there. Just all kinds of foam chunks in all kinds of sizes. Their office has one that HAS to be 8'x5' big. Huge. The little one has to earn her crash-pad time because she loves it so much and would do nothing else for the whole half hour if we let her. All that beautiful sensory input crashing all over her little body. Mmmm-mmmmm good! 

Apparently our PT has connections with local furniture shops that send their leftover foam over to the PT office instead of trashing it. They called me this morning with the good news and the conversation went a little something like this:

"Hey, just wanted to let you know the foam is in for your crash pad. Are you still interested?"

YESSSSSSS!

"Can you pick it up today?"

YESSSSSSSSSSSS!

"Would you be coming by this morning?"

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

Want one of your very own? Well, here's what you need for your very own Crash Pad:

Foam (Cost- Free. Well, not FREE. PT ain't cheap, people, and we have just about a year under our belt. Ohhh.... THAT'S where all our vacation money went. -sigh-)

I can only tell you how we got the foam, all 5 trashbags full. I've seen the stuff at JoAnn's but never priced it before. Ideally you'd have chunks of all different densities and sizes. You're gonna be cutting up chunks of foam into smaller, more manageable chunks. Be sure they're all different sizes; no smaller than your hand, no bigger than your head. (if you're me you'll be chucking them into a big ol' box that a tub came home in....Long story). Lots of therapeutic ripping and cutting for you Mommies.

(Then you child might woke up and see the box-o-foam and be in heaven.)

Fabric (Cost- Free.)

I went into her linen stash and took out a flat sheet. See, she doesn't use flat sheets. I've tried to get her to use them but after tucking her in she'll sneak out of bed, rip the bed apart and then cries that she's not tucked in again. She sleeps on a fitted sheet and then a blanket on top. A thick one for cool nights, a thin one for warm nights.... So I have this pile-o-flats that I can use for whatever. Like Crash Pads. You could run out and buy a flat sheet. That can't cost more than $10, right?

You simply sew it up. I took the sheet and folded the top to the bottom and sewed two sides leaving one whole end open, like a pillowcase. Then stuff ALL THE FOAM into the "pillowcase". Be sure to mix up the sizes at this point. Little pieces, big pieces, squishy pieces, dense pieces. All mixed up. Shake it up. A lot. Get the foam in it however you can. 

Then sew. it. shut. 

You're gonna need a lot of space to place this giant mound of foam. Clear off the dining room table. The WHOLE table. Clear it off. 

I can also suggest that an extra pair of strong hands might have been worth the wait. Just someone holding it closed while you run the machine. Not required... just the peace of mind knowing you're not going to break a needle and send the sharp tip into a hunk of foam for your sweet child to impale themselves on........or something.

Then you just let them go buck-nutty. Because they will.

So there you go. Therapy tools can be as cheap as free instead of hundreds of dollars. Don't spend hundreds of dollars. Please. We'll make it together. Promise. Just bring over the supplies and a cup of coffee. 

Fakin' it.

So I feel like a fraud. This blog thing makes me feel like a fraud.

I've taken a break from the blogging because of it. I am no great speaker or writer or conduit from God. I don't have daily epiphanies that bring me closer to Him. I will freely admit that some days I read the Bible on autopilot. I have no great wisdom, I can't share what "works for me" because I haven't found what works for me yet.

I'm a plain ol' mom, who is just struggling to survive the days. Some days that takes less effort than others.

 Some days I can bring myself to spend the entire day in crafty/outsidey/happy/smiley/adventures mode and others I just pray the iPad battery lasts until naptime.

Some days I have great patience and others I send the wild beast outside where she belongs.

Some days I accomplish everything on the to-do list and other days are considered a success if I even make a list.

Some days we have green smoothies for lunch and others I roll through a Wendy's.

Some days I rock and others I just plain suck.

Some days there just is no Joy in the day.

So there it is. The truth.

I see the pins on Pinterest. The pretty little signs to hang on our walls. To remind us.

And some days I can't. There's no joy to be found.  Just survival. Then guilt from not finding joy.

Why should I be joyless? I'm blessed beyond measure: our little house and our little family. But these reminders of what I should feel make me feel guilty, once again less than, because I don't feel joy.

Behind these signs and the blogs I follow I see women, mamas, who seem to have it together. That plaster a perfectly veneered smile on their faces and sing-song-ily say "Choose Joy."

I fake it 'till I make it..... but what if I never make it?


Then this.

And I felt joy. This spoke to me more than the pretty pastel, chevron, chalkboard signs guilting me into joy. This statement makes me want to move mountains. 

Not because it takes the power from God. Not that it puts the power in my hands.... but it allows me to be me; a little ball of fury taking down whatever is in my way. With Him by my side. Coaching me through the day. Not just making a choice but actually DOING something.

Child trying to corner me into a corn syrup filled breakfast? Bob and Weave.

Blowing though both Language Arts and Math lessons in less than 45 minutes WITH comprehension? One-Two-Punch

Facebook friend backdoor bragging about their child's ahead-a-grade-level-reading in their beautiful home remodel on the heels of their warm-weather vacation? Blocking

Attacking the laundry pile? Jab

Toys sorted? Uppercut

Cooking a meal that everyone will eat without any complaints at the dinner table? Footwork

Ending the day with the house a little cleaner, child a little smarter, husband a little more comforted? Punchout

At the end of the day I may be tired out. I may be bruised and battered and swollen. But I hit back. Yes, I do choose joy. Forget "'till I make it".... I'll be faking it 'till I die. But I am gonna punch today in the face. Everyday.... and that makes me a little happy. Even joyful.

Quiz Show

My favorite part of all those teen magazines in middle school was the quizzes. Stuff like "Stressed or Tressed: Your Perfect Yearbook Look" and "How Many BFFs Should YOU Have?" and "What Kind Of Mini-Backpack Are You? Cute 'n' Cuddly OR Slick Transparent Glitter?"  I held on to those answers like gospel. I mean, it was obvious I should have a teddy bear backpack as a Freshman, right?!

I kept taking those glossy tests throughout my adolescence and into my wedding planning year. (Yes, that's right.... year. Approximately 14 months from engagement to wedding date. Do not recommend.) 

And now they've come back with a vengeance on Facebook.

According to these quizzes today I should:

Have raven black hair. Have green eyes. Play the guitar. Be A Creative Master.  Be named Serena. Live in Maine (or Vermont or Washington State depending on the quiz). 

If I was a dessert I would be Pie. If I was a color I would be pink. If I was an animal I would be a tiger. If I was a Disney Princess I would be Tiana. If I was a president I would be John Adams. If I was a '30 Rock" character I would be Jack Donaghy. If I was a TV mother I would be Clair Huxtable OR Lorelai Gilmore (once again, depending on the quiz). 

My ideal dream job, apparently, is a lifeguard at a nude beach AND my most favorite quiz says that I am a Poopstar. Yes, you read that right. Poop. Star. I know a lot about poop.

I think taking all these quizzes say one thing about me.... I need someone else to make choices for me. 

I have about a million things I need to make decisions on and I just can't. 

I look at the mountain of "I need to"s. I start at the bottom and my eyes travel up and up and up. I'm now looking 45 degrees from the horizon and this Everest keeps going up, shadowing any progress I may have made in the day. I don't stop, keep looking for the peak and now the back of my head has touched my neck and my balance is thrown off enough for me to take a step back but I have no view of the snowy summit curving over my head. I'm no longer looking up, but now looking behind me and there it is. The end of what needs to be done. And it crashes down behind me, swallowing me up and spitting me out onto the sweet sanctuary of my bed. 

And nothing gets done it seems. I need someone else to make these decisions for me so I can just go do them. 

What I really need is these quizzes:

"The Perfect Curriculum For Your Homeschooler Years K-12." - Answer three yes or no questions and you'll be linked to the perfect curriculum that are guaranteed board approved and guaranteed to work with your child. Complete with IEPs and weekly lesson plans. 

"What To Make For Dinner: Gluten Free, Dairy Free, Clean Eating, Kid AND Husband Friendly Edition"- Use the simple multiple choice test format to tell the quiz what you have in your pantry/freezer and you'll have the perfect instagrammable meal your whole family will happily eat in 30 minutes or less.

"How Should YOU Say 'NO'?"- With a simple apology or with a plate of cookies BONUS RESULTS: how many 'guilt points' you'll acquire with each refusal. Use them wisely. Accumulate too many and you'll crash on the couch browsing nothing on your phone instead of spending time with your husband for an entire evening.

"Exact Color Coordinating Swatches For Your Home" - Using information like your favorite song, yout top 10 pins and name of your first pet this quiz will give you the perfect color swatches for every room in your home. This simple coat of paint will transform your 1200 square foot home into the next HGTV Dream Giveaway Home.

"What Netflix Show Should You Binge On Next?"....... Actually, I'm good. I got this one down.

"Can You Wear Yoga Pants There?" This quiz reads more like a flow chart letting you know when yoga pants can be used in each social situation. Did you know that if they're black you can wear them to a funeral? The more you know!

"Should You Even Try?"- Enter all your past failures and then this quiz will tell you the likelihood of success for your next venture. (Much like those "Mostly A's/Mostly B's/Mostly C's" quizzes you already know the answer before you finish the third question.)


Bottom line is this. The answers to my life questions are not gonna be on Facebook. Ever. My life is not going to be enriched by finding out what 80's Cartoon Show I am... Even if it is "The Snorks".

I need to shut down my phone and walk away. And just do stuff. And not turning on the computer stuff.....

I need to make a list and start knocking stuff off of it. I need to set realistic time tables to get stuff done. I need to put some stuff that I want to do just because I want to do it on there. I need to lay off pinterest because I have 2,500+ pins and there is no way I'll be able to even do a quarter of the stuff on it. I need to do that thing that I want to do and buy the stuff for it... because what's one more failure on the list? This could be the thing! It could be MY thing!

..... Oh, but I don't know what Oscar Winning Movie I am! I gotta go do this one and then I'll get stuff done.

To be heard.

Things don't roll off my daughter's back so well. When a hurt is tossed her way she grabs in with velcro gloves and holds it close to her chest, curling up into a fetal position, wrapped around the small ball of ugly... letting it weigh her down and refusing to let it go.

This past week in church the topic was Emotional Health and my husband and I gave each other a knowing look when Pastor said "Some of us have small emotions and some of us have big emotions" (paraphrased). Our daughter has big emotions....BIG emotions.

If that's her SPD or her personality, I don't know. All I know is that she needs to get a light coat of teflon if she's gonna get through this world in one piece. So we work on it. So very hard. We have social stories, role playing, games, you tube videos... you name it, we do it. (We got our own mini PT/OT office in our living room... dining room... school room....Ok let's be honest. HOUSE!)

Yesterday was gonna be a big one. Out the door at 8:30, home at 5 kinda day. No nap. Lots of activity. I was ready for it. I wanted to make sure she was. As we drove we had one of our many "Mommy Talks".

Me: "OK, babe. Now if you're having a rough time with someone what do you do?"

Her: "Talk to them first and then go get an adult to help if it doesn't work."

Me: "Good! Now what do you say?"

Her: " 'That's OK. I don't care.' and then walk away."

The floor fell out from under me. "It's OK."?! Why was it OK? It's OK for one's feelings to be hurt? It's OK for someone to say or do something mean to you personally and just walk away? This wasn't new advice. This was the advice I was given as a child. "Just walk away." but how many hurts from my own childhood am I still carrying with me today? Too many to count. No. For some reason I knew this was another one of those moments that would make or break the woman my little one was meant to be.

Me "NO. That's NOT what you say."

Her: -stunned silence-

Me: "No. Your feelings are important and matter. You should be able to share with someone when they hurt your feelings in a kind way: '_______, I want to be friends with you but when you do that it hurts my feelings. Can you please stop?' Let's practice it."

And we did. Once we were done and the script was in her brain she popped her thumb in her mouth and started tearing up.

Me: "Baby, what's wrong?"

Her: "You listened to me. You heard me."

Then I started tearing up. She just needed someone to hear her. To tell her her feelings matter. To help her express her feelings in a calm, safe way. That she was important. That her feelings were valid and deserved to be heard and accounted for.

We're still working on it but now we have a better starting point.

________________

The last few weeks I've been dealing with horrid migraines. They usually hit right before dinner time and have me going to bed as soon as the plates are cleared up leaving my husband and daughter to fend for themselves all evening long. I try everything. I drink tons of water throughout the day, make sure I wear my glasses all. the. time, getting massages from my husband (the kind that don't go anywhere), I've been eating better, organizing my life a little better, setting more boundaries so I don't get overwhelmed and making sure I get bible time in every day.

Nothing was working.

So last night, after my busy day, when I got hit with a doozy of a migraine I just laid in the dark of my bedroom and prayed. "God, please take this away. Take away the strobing pain, the nausea, the everything."

He said, "Why are you getting migraines all of a sudden?"

"I doesn't matter, just make them go away."

And in all His infinite fatherly wisdom He spoke "It DOES matter."

It was clear as day now. My migraines have been appearing every 2-3 days since I received an email One laced with guilt and accusations and passive aggression. I had grabbed onto a ball of pain, curled up around it and held it close to my chest, curling up into a fetal position, wrapped around the small ball of ugly... letting it weigh me down and refusing to let it go.

I was saying "That's OK. I don't care." and trying to walk away.

As only He can, He spoke gently to me using my own words that I spoke to my daughter only hours earlier "No. Your feelings are important and matter. You should be able to share with someone when they hurt your feelings in a kind way: '_______, I want to be friends with you but when you do that it hurts my feelings. Can you please stop?' Let's practice it."

And I wept. Because I needed someone to listen to me. To hear me. He did. The one who holds every atom on Earth together stopped everything to not only listen to me... but hear me.


__________

I sat down this morning to deal with the email. I wrote something kind but making sure my feelings were clear and would not be lost in translation. I'm hoping for a migraine free-day, we shall see... but at least I know I was heard. Maybe not by the recipient of the email but at least by the God of the universe.

Along with this sweet little five year old, 30-something me is learning my feelings matter. They are important and valid and deserved to be heard and accounted for.






And because I am the Queen of Quantifying (according to my husband):

-I am completely aware of when my child does a wrong. She is not some tragic victim in the world. She can be just as snarky and mean as the next kid. I know.

-I am not a PT or an OT... There are years of training and practice going into those fields of which I have none. Please don't think I claim to be one. I -heart- PTs and OTs!

-Some migraines need medical attention. This is not medical advice. I am not a doctor.... I may go see one soon if this new development doesn't make mine stop.

T-shirt Dress

I know today was Tuesday... but it was really a Monday. You can't get any more Monday-ier than the day after a three day weekend.

The Man goes off to work leaving me with a very sad child (she loves her some daddy-time) and we cuddle. A lot. So with all that one-on-one, "play-with-me", constant-skin-on-skin-touching time we needed today I was very thankful for naptime.

And then I remembered it was "Monday".... and I needed to make something.

And I knew what needed to be done.

See, little girl had a batman phase. I don't think it's 100% over, but it's not as pronounced as it used to be. So when she got a batman shirt for Christmas she was excited. Now, it's passed over every morning for skirts and dresses. So I thought a batman-dress would be a perfect solution to keep the item in circulation.

This past weekend I found the perfect "batman yellow" shirt at the thrifty shopper to use for this project.

It was time... to make the shirt-dress.

You will need: 

A t-shirt that fits your child. 

(It's OK if this shirt is a little too short like the one used here. 

You're gonna make it much longer soon.)

An adult size shirt (basically, a ton of fabric for a little bit of money)

*optional- Computer with Netflix subscription playing Season 2 of Parenthood (So Jasmine can go all the way to Europe for work but Crosby has to be "on duty" 24/7? Oh, and Julia wants another kid so we should just do it? Fine... whatever. Dude, don't even get me started on Adam. He's gonna burst. I just know it. Dude's gonna blow. a. gasket.... Sarah? I like Sarah in a "cheer for the underdog" sort of way but I'm glad she's not my sister. Girl's got iss-ues. )

Annnnnyway.

You're gonna wanna cut the sleeves and the collar of the big shirt off. 

ah-like so

Then, using your serger (or your friend's serger) or your sewing machine (or your friend's sewing machine) or a needle and thread (I'm pretty sure you're on your own on that one) sew from the top of the shirt all the way down to the bottom.

See, when you use a serger you get a nice, "professional", edge which is why I suggest bringing that serged edge all the way to the bottom.If you're using a sewing machine there isn't much reason to go all the way to the bottom save having a "store bought" look. So if you wanna save yourself 10 minutes you totally could just sew a line where the sleeves were in order to make a tube.

At least in my opinion. 

(For goodness sakes, it's 10:30 and I'm exhausted just re-reading this! Do whatever you want.)

Once you've got yourself a large fabric tube you attach that to the smaller shirt, right sides together. You can baste the skirt to the top to give it a ruffled look. You can pleat it and pin it so you have little darts where you want it.... do whatever you want. I'm betting that if you're still reading you have a basic grasp of sewing on a machine. Most everyone else has checked out right now. 

A serger really comes in handy for projects like this one. 

If you don't want to invest in a serger, invest in a friend with a serger. 

Now this is where you stop. You make a loosey-goosey simple dress for a girl in your life. Don't complicate it. Move on. Don't try to be fancy. You'll save yourself an hour + of your life.

If you do decide to be fancy you're gonna wanna take the sleeves off, attach new sleeves made from the sleeves of the "skirt material" shirt, attach one perfect and spend at least 30 minutes trying to make lightning strike twice. You'll also decide to shorten the skirt part, forgo going upstairs to get your mat and circular blade, just "eyeballing" it and taking it up 5 inches too short, deciding that you want to try to give it a "cabbage leaf" edging causing you to adjust every. stinking. dial on the serger. All while sweating profusely because who turned the summer on?!

Then naptime will be over. You will not have done dishes, put away laundry or even showered. But you will have a gift for your sweet child. 

And this is how it will look. 

Her face says it all.

Her words? 

"Can you try again? This is for a boy."

Rating: 7/10. Would do again. Would stop before trying to be fancy. Would get the circular blade out. Would measure... would choose pink or the color du jour: "Elsa-blue".

one

So, I just got this email from snapfish.... shutterfly.... whatever. It's an email:

Jessica,

Please accept our most sincere apologies. We mistakenly sent an email that was intended only for new parents who recently made baby-related purchases at Shutterfly. We’re truly sorry if you received this email in error. We realize this is a very sensitive issue and we did not mean to upset you in any way.

We care about our customers above all else and have taken measures to ensure this will not happen again. If you have any questions or concerns, please reach out to us atcustomerservice@cs.shutterfly.com and we’ll get back to you.

Sincerely,

John Boris Chief Marketing Officer

Shutterfly, Inc.

And I was all.... Dude, chill. You sent me an offer targeted to those with babies. I don't have one. No biggie. I get all kinds of spam for "performance enhancing" drugs and I don't have anything to... ummm..... enhance.

People are having babies. It's expected.

I'm not. That's life.

No matter if I had 1 more, 5 more or 10 more.... my baby-makin' days were bound to come to an end. And for the foreseeable future, they have.

Am I sad about it? Yes.

Am I happy about it? Yes.

(Please, please, please let ONE person named Mary read this post!!)

It is what it is. Feeling those tip-toeing around the fact that my boobs are purely decorative at this point of my life is worse than knowing that when my daughter grows out of her clothes I truly have no reason to keep them. (Not that it stops me from keeping a few items here and there.) I'm aware of the position I'm in. I'm aware what I'm missing out on... but this is what I have. 

The fact is I love my little family. I love being a mother to one. I could give you a list but here is my number one reason. Everytime, anytime; THIS is why I love having only one child.

When the ball of dirt, hair and smiles comes running to me with a dandy lion clenched in her fist, kisses it and gives it to me.

"I picked it and kissed it for you because I love you. It's a flower-kiss."

I can bundle her up in my arms, look into her (my) grey-blue eyes hiding behind the wisps of her dishwater blonde hair and tell her, without a doubt, without guilt, without a second thought.

"You are my favorite."

And it's the truth.