Tonight I had the pleasure of taking my 18 month old ladybug for her first real trick or treat night. I had to laugh because it really reminded me of some nights in college (and maybe even post college) where an unfortunate friend would have to be taken home in that type of drunkeness that entails a few different phases. I'm not saying that I myself have not had some nights where I midjudged my tolerance, but that is not for blogging since the internet is a permanent record and my kids could at some point access this. (Hey year 2024 Tatum-don't ask). So for the purpose of this analogy, assume this is a generic case study based on no way on a specific event.
Maya began trick or treating at about 6:45, which is really about bedtime after a hard partying day of preschool Halloween activities. As we landed at the first home Maya decided to walk right into the house, arms in the air, grabbing fistfulls of candy on her way into the foyer. She was much like Stiffler walking into a party grabbing a keg cup and exclaiming "what's up f*ckers!" She had pre-funked with a 3 Muskateers and M&M's so this behavior was understandable.
As we continued down the street she INSISTED on walking by herself. If I tried to hold her hand she swatted it away or pulled away and yelled "no!". So, I had to herd her down the path to prevent her from swerving into the road. You know how drunk people won't listen to you, so you make them think that going home was THEIR idea rather than arguing? I applied that philosophy with my non-verbal directing of the baby down the street as she stumbled and fumbled down the dimly lit sidewalk.
Every so often a lip of the sidewalk or a stray piece of grass would jump in front of her foot and in her big plush costume she'd face plant, candy bucket splaying everywhere. For anyone who has visited or attended a college prone to sub-freezing temps in the winter, the sidewalks are suspiciously slippery at night while drinking, but easy to navigate on any given sober trip to the library. Same idea.
After about 4 houses Maya started to throw temper tantrums on doorsteps for no reason. She wanted more candy (cuz one full size Snickers will not satisfy her appetite). She wanted to touch the dog, she didn't want to be carried down the stairs. Thus the random tears and crying. Only instead of sputtering "she's such a bitch- I know she wore the same dress as me cuth she hates me" Maya was saying "I want to bury my face in that candy bowl, put me down!!!"
After what equated to one block I let her walk down the street and she wanted to go in every house: lights off, nobody is home, lets go up that walk way! And then there is the craving for bad food that ails every late drunken night. The overserved friend at closing time will slur "Get me some Jack in the Crack! I need me some Mickey-D's! Lets get Dick's!" (sidenote for non-Seattlites: Dick's is a famous hamburger chain. However I've heard that shouted in other states for other reasons as well). Maya was not asking for a Double Double, she was plunging her hand into the candy bucket and attempting to eat whoppers through the wrapper. When confronted by her sad lack of molars to tear the wrapper open, she dissolved into tears.
Next thing you know I'm carrying her football style, one little ladybug rainboot has fallen off, she is whimpering and hitting me. I'm getting questioning looks from non-parents and sympathetic looks from parents. I consent to put her down at the base of our driveway. She crawls, head drooping, up the stairs. She rips a random leaf of a plant and then starts randomly laughing.
I've done the following to many a drunken comrade, but this is the end of the night for baby Maya: I carried her to the car and put her in the back seat where she promptly passed out. Once home I carried her inside, gave her a bottle, washed her makeup off, brushed her teeth. I got her p.j.'s on while she unabashedly flatulated and giggled at every toot. Now she is tucked safe in bed and I just hope she doesn't throw up.
I am just glad that I'm writing about my baby Maya. It wasn't easy but I treasure holding her little hand, knowing she is safe, and laughing as she melts down on a strangers front porch. I just love that girl.
Happy Halloween!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Farming instead of Facebook
Recently, my youngest sister was looking at a picture of me at my going away party at UW. I smiled from the rooftop of Sigma Phi Epsilong in my stylish blue cap sleeved shirt and Gap overalls.
"Oh fun, was it a theme party?" she asked.
"Um, no, why?" I responded.
"Why were you wearing overalls then?" She replied.
My sister, being 9 years younger, did not believe that overalls were actually in fashion and innocently thought we were having some sort of country themed going away party. Recently, trying to make space for baby two, I sadly parted with said Gap overalls and donated them. I now think I should have kept them, not for fashion but for pragmatic reasons.
Let me explain. In this modern world of conveniences we congratulate ourselves on all of the tools we've developed as a society to make our lives easier. Let the machines do the work and we'll kick back and relax, right? I would argue that our lives are busier and more stressful than the lives of farmers in "days of yore" who worked sun up to sun down. In fact, Kenny and I call eachother farmers now while we work into the night to manage a household and careers.
Our day starts early and ends late. I try to wake up at 5am or before (although lately I've been hitting the alarm off in my sleep) so that I can be to work at 6am. Farmers get up at 5 to feed the chickens and milk the cows. I'd rather be getting some fresh air with some barn animals (fresh until the cows fart at least) than logging into a computer. Regardless, I rather enjoy my early mornings of solitude, keeping up with the East Coast territory I work. Meanwhile, Kenny is wrangling the kids while his blackberry buzzes with requests and expectations. I think he might prefer sheep sheering to "dealing with douchebags" as he says. But every morning the kids are fed, dressed, and out the door by 7:30 or 8:00.
We work all day at our desks, on our smartphones, landlines, voicemails, emails. We have expectations from above and the need to make money. We are tilling the land and growing crops. If, by crops, you mean software that manages expense reports and by tilling the land you mean Webinars.
Of course I have the good fortune to be done with work early as I started early. I'd love to say I go enjoy a good novel, pick up my kids early every day, get the house tidied etc. Some days, I do pick up the kids or tidy the house. Often I am going to the country store (aka Safeway, Bed Bath and Beyond) to procure items for the homestead or getting in some excercise because I sit at a desk all day. I pick up the kids at 4:30 or 5:00 and we go home, feed them dinner, figure out dinner for Kenny and I, do dishes, make lunches, do laundry, pick up toys, take out toys, bathe again because Maya found an uncapped marker, read books and get the kids to bed. We often eat dinner late and proceed to fold laundry, catch up with emails, clean a toilet, go through mail, pay bills etc. By the time 9pm rolls around I finally get a post-workout shower in and have a few minutes with the kindle. During all of this there is access, there is a need to get on Snapfish to order photos, there is a need to do online research for this and that.
Life is still busy, and somehow modern conveniences have created more work. The cost of all of these modern conveniences causes the need for a dual income. If we really were farmers, our workout would be built into our work. Riding a horse, walking the fields, hand laundering, think about the forearm workout you get from milking a cow! (Just don't milk the bull). If nobody could get a hold of you by email, and they were patient enough to tell you something when they see you next, we could spend time interacting face to face. We may not know everything about everyone, but our brains could keep track of life without assistance from a smartphone and Outlook calendar. How much time do you spend in front of a screen? What would happen if you didn't have any screentime for a week outside of absolutely necessary screentime required for work? What could you accomplish?
Thus, I wish I could trade in my iPhone for my Gap overalls. I'd keep a notebook in one pocket, wear a watch, carry a couple of pictures of my kids, and reduce eyestrain. I'd probably be more efficient, if not a little out of touch. I'd miss some Facebook posts (I wonder if there is a statistic about how many people have posted pictures of their feet and a drink while relaxing? Are you really relaxing if you're on the internet?). Maybe life would go on if I missed some political opinions and happy hour "check-ins".
I can't wear overalls and I can't hand launder my clothes or pluck a chicken from my yard (primarily because I don't have a chicken, I have a cat, and she'll be pissed if I pluck her hair). I really can't even go computerless because I have a job to do. But I can do a week without Facebook. Its become a bad habit to check FB when I'm bored, waiting, listening to a conference call, whatever. I think I need to disconnect for a bit. So, until Wednesday August 17 I will be unavailable on Facebook. I'm removing the app from my iPhone for now, and I'll see my FB friends in a week.
Off to the fields...
"Oh fun, was it a theme party?" she asked.
"Um, no, why?" I responded.
"Why were you wearing overalls then?" She replied.
My sister, being 9 years younger, did not believe that overalls were actually in fashion and innocently thought we were having some sort of country themed going away party. Recently, trying to make space for baby two, I sadly parted with said Gap overalls and donated them. I now think I should have kept them, not for fashion but for pragmatic reasons.
Let me explain. In this modern world of conveniences we congratulate ourselves on all of the tools we've developed as a society to make our lives easier. Let the machines do the work and we'll kick back and relax, right? I would argue that our lives are busier and more stressful than the lives of farmers in "days of yore" who worked sun up to sun down. In fact, Kenny and I call eachother farmers now while we work into the night to manage a household and careers.
Our day starts early and ends late. I try to wake up at 5am or before (although lately I've been hitting the alarm off in my sleep) so that I can be to work at 6am. Farmers get up at 5 to feed the chickens and milk the cows. I'd rather be getting some fresh air with some barn animals (fresh until the cows fart at least) than logging into a computer. Regardless, I rather enjoy my early mornings of solitude, keeping up with the East Coast territory I work. Meanwhile, Kenny is wrangling the kids while his blackberry buzzes with requests and expectations. I think he might prefer sheep sheering to "dealing with douchebags" as he says. But every morning the kids are fed, dressed, and out the door by 7:30 or 8:00.
We work all day at our desks, on our smartphones, landlines, voicemails, emails. We have expectations from above and the need to make money. We are tilling the land and growing crops. If, by crops, you mean software that manages expense reports and by tilling the land you mean Webinars.
Of course I have the good fortune to be done with work early as I started early. I'd love to say I go enjoy a good novel, pick up my kids early every day, get the house tidied etc. Some days, I do pick up the kids or tidy the house. Often I am going to the country store (aka Safeway, Bed Bath and Beyond) to procure items for the homestead or getting in some excercise because I sit at a desk all day. I pick up the kids at 4:30 or 5:00 and we go home, feed them dinner, figure out dinner for Kenny and I, do dishes, make lunches, do laundry, pick up toys, take out toys, bathe again because Maya found an uncapped marker, read books and get the kids to bed. We often eat dinner late and proceed to fold laundry, catch up with emails, clean a toilet, go through mail, pay bills etc. By the time 9pm rolls around I finally get a post-workout shower in and have a few minutes with the kindle. During all of this there is access, there is a need to get on Snapfish to order photos, there is a need to do online research for this and that.
Life is still busy, and somehow modern conveniences have created more work. The cost of all of these modern conveniences causes the need for a dual income. If we really were farmers, our workout would be built into our work. Riding a horse, walking the fields, hand laundering, think about the forearm workout you get from milking a cow! (Just don't milk the bull). If nobody could get a hold of you by email, and they were patient enough to tell you something when they see you next, we could spend time interacting face to face. We may not know everything about everyone, but our brains could keep track of life without assistance from a smartphone and Outlook calendar. How much time do you spend in front of a screen? What would happen if you didn't have any screentime for a week outside of absolutely necessary screentime required for work? What could you accomplish?
Thus, I wish I could trade in my iPhone for my Gap overalls. I'd keep a notebook in one pocket, wear a watch, carry a couple of pictures of my kids, and reduce eyestrain. I'd probably be more efficient, if not a little out of touch. I'd miss some Facebook posts (I wonder if there is a statistic about how many people have posted pictures of their feet and a drink while relaxing? Are you really relaxing if you're on the internet?). Maybe life would go on if I missed some political opinions and happy hour "check-ins".
I can't wear overalls and I can't hand launder my clothes or pluck a chicken from my yard (primarily because I don't have a chicken, I have a cat, and she'll be pissed if I pluck her hair). I really can't even go computerless because I have a job to do. But I can do a week without Facebook. Its become a bad habit to check FB when I'm bored, waiting, listening to a conference call, whatever. I think I need to disconnect for a bit. So, until Wednesday August 17 I will be unavailable on Facebook. I'm removing the app from my iPhone for now, and I'll see my FB friends in a week.
Off to the fields...
Monday, April 25, 2011
Kids are just to dye for and make me want to drink whine
Life provides a huge bag of stressful events. Stress is all relative, and I'm happy to share that although we have plenty of our own stresses, they are manageable and open our eyes up to appreciate the good times. This weekend was no exception.
My life is full of whiners, tantrums, and emotional negotiations. The W's, T's, and EN's are not limited to the two small children either. I won't go into the details but lets just say that the stress of finishing a difficult home improvement project lead Kenny to be a bit stressed. Don't worry, I knew that it was an emotional negotiation and almost had to laugh, so I let it slide.
Kenny finished the fence and overcame the challenge of building something that he previously did not know how to build. He whined a little, threw a tantrum, and performed an emotional negotiation with me and with himself.
While he finished the fence I put Maya down for a nap and Tatum played around in the warm, sunny backyard. I wanted to go to Flower World and Home Depot, but was at the mercy of naptime and the constant questioning and demands of a four year old. "Mommy I want to ride my bike, will you help me?" "Mommy I have to go potty can you take my helmet off?" "Mommy I'm hungry for a snack"... all while discovering that there were termites in a piece of rotted out wood in our back garden. Cue Mommy WTEN.
So, off we go to Home Depot at 2:45pm with the two girls and aspirations of a trip to Flower World (birds tweeting, happy family playfully chasing chickens, loving parents explaining the difference between a peacock and a peahen to our interested little angel). The moment we walked into Home Depot Tatum began to whine about how she wanted to go to a kid's store where you can play. She didn't want to buy paint. Suddenly the nose was a faucet and the whining volume grew to a threatening pitch. As I tried to negotiate a trade in the garden department for a four year old ("how many perennials for a slightly dirty preschooler?"), the cries of "I don't want to be here" were muffled by the back of her hand wiping slime from her nose. As we shopped for caulk and stain, Maya looked curiously on as Tatum drew the attention of a pregnant couple who I could tell were silently prophesizing that their unborn baby would never be that kid.
By the time we got to the flowers, Tatum had calmed down and we attempted an emotional negotiation of sorts as she wanted "4 red flowers". I consented because I too wanted some red flowers. We thought everything was going to be okay as we walked back toward the checkout area and Tatum spotted the checkout aisle display of candy bars.
"Mommy can we buy a candy bar"
"No"
"But mommy we need candy its yummy" (Lip begins to quiver)
"If you're a good girl, the easter bunny will bring you treats tonight"
(panicked voice): "But when we run out of candy next week, can we come back and buy some"
"No honey, candy isn't healthy, we are not coming back to buy candy next week"
Now, remember in cartoons, I believe especially Charlie Brown, where a character would begin to cry and the tears would shoot out from the corners of the eyes like sprinklers? Yea that happened, coupled with cries of "but I want the candy bar next week! But I want the candy bar next week! Mommy when we run out of candy next week can we buy candy bars here?!" "No Tatum you can't"
This escalated and she was worked up past "Emotional Negotiation" and skidded into "Why don't they make straight jackets for kids". Kenny saw me reaching a boiling point and told me to take Maya to the car. I believe his words were "I got this".
I took Maya to the car and after a few moments I heard "BUT I WANT THE CANDY BAR NEXT WEEK" rolling toward our car. Here comes Kenny making his way through the parking lot with a blubbering mess. He told me that everyone around him was looking at him suspiciously as he wrangled a child, struggling to get away from him and screaming "I want my mommy". It was like one of those moral dilemma hidden camera shows about bystander intervention. They figured she looks like him and he wasn't running so it must be okay. I'm just glad we hadn't gone in his work van, because putting her in a white minivan labeled "Team Clark" might have heightened their suspicions.
We got home and Tatum went down for a nap. Breathing a sigh of relief I took Maya out to the backyard where we snuggled on a blanket and played with toys. Kenny delivered a sandwich and glass of wine where we had a little moment of zen with our happy go lucky 11 month old. Maya gleefully gnawed on a pickle. I then realized I didn't know what else to do with her when she tried to crawl and eat grass, so I took her for a walk in the beautiful spring day.
Tatum woke up from her nap in a markedly better mood and she went to the fence where Kenny was painting and asked a barrage of questions around fences and paint and possibly the lifecycle of worms. She was back in his heart and things were looking up.
That evening I insisted in continuing with the plan of coloring Easter Eggs, and I filled the cups with dye and brought out 17 hardboiled eggs. We had a nice time coloring eggs and talking strategy around making multi-colored eggs. I looked at the clock and exclaimed "Oh my gosh Tatum, its past your bedtime! If the bunny sees you up he may skip our house!". "Oh my gosh mom okay what do we do?" "Well, I'm going to go get the Easter basket to put out, and a pen to write the bunny a note apologizing for your tantrum at the store".
When I went to get the basket (in sleeping Maya's room) I heard clinking downstairs that made me nervous. Sure enough when I came downstairs there were only two of the six dye cups remaining on the table, and four trails of colored vinegar leading into the kitchen. I rounded the corner to see Tatum furiously wiping up spilled dye, and she looked at me with the knowledge that she was in trouble. It was so darling I just said "honey thanks for wiping it up! Let me help you because the bunny is watching!" (Emotional Negotiation). We wiped it up and Tatum had dye all over her toes and fingers.
"Tatum, you have dye on your fingers and toes, we better get in the bath!"
She looked at her fingers and her toes and peered at me with the biggest doe eyes. "Mommy if my fingers and toes are died... will they grow back?"
Oh my heart melted at that point and I attempted to explain the difference between dye and die. She was in too big of a hurry to bathe so I whisked her upstairs and washed off the color. While she soaked we composed a letter to E. Bunny.
"Okay Tatum, what do you want to say to the bunny?"
"Um, okay T...A..." (oh cute she's spelling her name!). "C...H...K..." (huh?) "um...3...L...Y"
"Okay Tatum how about words. What words do you want to say?"
"Please.... um... Thank you" (Okay now we're on the right track) "....and something in spanish. Quatro!"
In the end her letter read: "Please Thank you quattro. A Toy, sorry for having a tantrum at the store, please hide my eggs. TachK3Ly."
After that was done she rushed to get ready and hurriedly kissed daddy goodnight with a sense of urgency I've never seen at bedtime. She insisted I tell a Princess story with the light out so the Bunny wouldn't see that she was still awake. I got one sentence in before she took over with "and then the princess colored eggs and her fingers died and she woke up and hunted for them the end okay goodnight mommy! Go to bed quietly, tiptoe and whisper so the bunny doesn't know you're awake!"
Once downstairs, Kenny and I toasted our parenting prowess and home improvement dedication with a shot of tequila. We celebrated the day with a late dinner, some white wine, and a couple episodes of Entourage.
The next morning I was not so happy with the successful early bedtime when 6:15 rolled around and the pitter patter of little feed was followed by a messy haired vision, seen between one open eye whispering "mommy, lets go see if my note worked and the easter bunny came". And so another adventure began.
My life is full of whiners, tantrums, and emotional negotiations. The W's, T's, and EN's are not limited to the two small children either. I won't go into the details but lets just say that the stress of finishing a difficult home improvement project lead Kenny to be a bit stressed. Don't worry, I knew that it was an emotional negotiation and almost had to laugh, so I let it slide.
Kenny finished the fence and overcame the challenge of building something that he previously did not know how to build. He whined a little, threw a tantrum, and performed an emotional negotiation with me and with himself.
While he finished the fence I put Maya down for a nap and Tatum played around in the warm, sunny backyard. I wanted to go to Flower World and Home Depot, but was at the mercy of naptime and the constant questioning and demands of a four year old. "Mommy I want to ride my bike, will you help me?" "Mommy I have to go potty can you take my helmet off?" "Mommy I'm hungry for a snack"... all while discovering that there were termites in a piece of rotted out wood in our back garden. Cue Mommy WTEN.
So, off we go to Home Depot at 2:45pm with the two girls and aspirations of a trip to Flower World (birds tweeting, happy family playfully chasing chickens, loving parents explaining the difference between a peacock and a peahen to our interested little angel). The moment we walked into Home Depot Tatum began to whine about how she wanted to go to a kid's store where you can play. She didn't want to buy paint. Suddenly the nose was a faucet and the whining volume grew to a threatening pitch. As I tried to negotiate a trade in the garden department for a four year old ("how many perennials for a slightly dirty preschooler?"), the cries of "I don't want to be here" were muffled by the back of her hand wiping slime from her nose. As we shopped for caulk and stain, Maya looked curiously on as Tatum drew the attention of a pregnant couple who I could tell were silently prophesizing that their unborn baby would never be that kid.
By the time we got to the flowers, Tatum had calmed down and we attempted an emotional negotiation of sorts as she wanted "4 red flowers". I consented because I too wanted some red flowers. We thought everything was going to be okay as we walked back toward the checkout area and Tatum spotted the checkout aisle display of candy bars.
"Mommy can we buy a candy bar"
"No"
"But mommy we need candy its yummy" (Lip begins to quiver)
"If you're a good girl, the easter bunny will bring you treats tonight"
(panicked voice): "But when we run out of candy next week, can we come back and buy some"
"No honey, candy isn't healthy, we are not coming back to buy candy next week"
Now, remember in cartoons, I believe especially Charlie Brown, where a character would begin to cry and the tears would shoot out from the corners of the eyes like sprinklers? Yea that happened, coupled with cries of "but I want the candy bar next week! But I want the candy bar next week! Mommy when we run out of candy next week can we buy candy bars here?!" "No Tatum you can't"
This escalated and she was worked up past "Emotional Negotiation" and skidded into "Why don't they make straight jackets for kids". Kenny saw me reaching a boiling point and told me to take Maya to the car. I believe his words were "I got this".
I took Maya to the car and after a few moments I heard "BUT I WANT THE CANDY BAR NEXT WEEK" rolling toward our car. Here comes Kenny making his way through the parking lot with a blubbering mess. He told me that everyone around him was looking at him suspiciously as he wrangled a child, struggling to get away from him and screaming "I want my mommy". It was like one of those moral dilemma hidden camera shows about bystander intervention. They figured she looks like him and he wasn't running so it must be okay. I'm just glad we hadn't gone in his work van, because putting her in a white minivan labeled "Team Clark" might have heightened their suspicions.
We got home and Tatum went down for a nap. Breathing a sigh of relief I took Maya out to the backyard where we snuggled on a blanket and played with toys. Kenny delivered a sandwich and glass of wine where we had a little moment of zen with our happy go lucky 11 month old. Maya gleefully gnawed on a pickle. I then realized I didn't know what else to do with her when she tried to crawl and eat grass, so I took her for a walk in the beautiful spring day.
Tatum woke up from her nap in a markedly better mood and she went to the fence where Kenny was painting and asked a barrage of questions around fences and paint and possibly the lifecycle of worms. She was back in his heart and things were looking up.
That evening I insisted in continuing with the plan of coloring Easter Eggs, and I filled the cups with dye and brought out 17 hardboiled eggs. We had a nice time coloring eggs and talking strategy around making multi-colored eggs. I looked at the clock and exclaimed "Oh my gosh Tatum, its past your bedtime! If the bunny sees you up he may skip our house!". "Oh my gosh mom okay what do we do?" "Well, I'm going to go get the Easter basket to put out, and a pen to write the bunny a note apologizing for your tantrum at the store".
When I went to get the basket (in sleeping Maya's room) I heard clinking downstairs that made me nervous. Sure enough when I came downstairs there were only two of the six dye cups remaining on the table, and four trails of colored vinegar leading into the kitchen. I rounded the corner to see Tatum furiously wiping up spilled dye, and she looked at me with the knowledge that she was in trouble. It was so darling I just said "honey thanks for wiping it up! Let me help you because the bunny is watching!" (Emotional Negotiation). We wiped it up and Tatum had dye all over her toes and fingers.
"Tatum, you have dye on your fingers and toes, we better get in the bath!"
She looked at her fingers and her toes and peered at me with the biggest doe eyes. "Mommy if my fingers and toes are died... will they grow back?"
Oh my heart melted at that point and I attempted to explain the difference between dye and die. She was in too big of a hurry to bathe so I whisked her upstairs and washed off the color. While she soaked we composed a letter to E. Bunny.
"Okay Tatum, what do you want to say to the bunny?"
"Um, okay T...A..." (oh cute she's spelling her name!). "C...H...K..." (huh?) "um...3...L...Y"
"Okay Tatum how about words. What words do you want to say?"
"Please.... um... Thank you" (Okay now we're on the right track) "....and something in spanish. Quatro!"
In the end her letter read: "Please Thank you quattro. A Toy, sorry for having a tantrum at the store, please hide my eggs. TachK3Ly."
After that was done she rushed to get ready and hurriedly kissed daddy goodnight with a sense of urgency I've never seen at bedtime. She insisted I tell a Princess story with the light out so the Bunny wouldn't see that she was still awake. I got one sentence in before she took over with "and then the princess colored eggs and her fingers died and she woke up and hunted for them the end okay goodnight mommy! Go to bed quietly, tiptoe and whisper so the bunny doesn't know you're awake!"
Once downstairs, Kenny and I toasted our parenting prowess and home improvement dedication with a shot of tequila. We celebrated the day with a late dinner, some white wine, and a couple episodes of Entourage.
The next morning I was not so happy with the successful early bedtime when 6:15 rolled around and the pitter patter of little feed was followed by a messy haired vision, seen between one open eye whispering "mommy, lets go see if my note worked and the easter bunny came". And so another adventure began.
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