For Auld Lang Syne...

With the ending of another year we often find ourselves steeped in tradition, grief and maybe even a little bit of booze.

The traditions...special meals, sharing of resolutions or memories of the year before, attending First Nights and other events are ways people ring in the New Year as the Old Year shuffles out.  No matter what religion you are we all seem to agree on the calendar.  We have managed to come together on this one...yep, December 31st is New Year's Eve and January 1st is New Year's Day.....AGREED! 

The grieving.  The year passes with some of our resolutions quickly forgotten before the confeitti had even been swept up from the last celebration.  I have often never shed the pounds promised with the ball's dropping.  I guess you could say another ball dropped there too.  I have often thought another year wasted.  And for what?  A smaller waistline or a smaller dress size?  I guess I forgot that I was able to spend time with the kids, with my husband, with family or just doing something for myself.  But those calories weren't counted and I set myself up for a perceived failure.

With a New Year we also mourn for more than resolutions quickly forgotten.  We mourn the losses that we have faced.  Some significant as when a loved one is taken from us whether too quickly or after a long illness.  We mourn their loss and feel the sorrow from the hole that it leaves with us.  We mourn some things that were never ours.  We mourn for the what if's, the could have been's and the never were's.  We mourn what we wanted and never got while sometimes taking for granted the blessings we were afforded.  It isn't selfish on our part.  We are human and creatures of higher thought...but it is the heart that we find more mystical than the mind and that heart is a kicker.  It feels things often when our higher logic says it is absurd.  We feel it real and we feel it deeply.  It is a permitted hurt that we can own.  It is ours.

This New Year's I plan not to let the mourning out shine the blessings that I have yet to come.  I won't mourn the what if's, the could have been's and the never were's.  Instead, I will plan for some more what if's, the could be's and the yet to come's!!!  After all, I'm a sucker for the underdog!

Oh, and in case you were wondering.  I am having a couple of Cosmos this evening....there is a little bit of booze in my future too!

On being sorry...

If only forgiveness was as easy as the act of saying that you are sorry.  We throw the phrase "I'm sorry" around a lot and as easily as a greeting to a friend on the street.  There are times when it is clear that we don't always share in the meaning of this 2-word pharse.

I'm sorry can start a conversation...

I'm sorry that I....
I'm sorry that you....(one of my favorites.  Can I have passive agressiveness for $200, please Mr. Trebek?)
I'm sorry for your loss...

It can also end a conversation....
I have to go, I'm sorry.
It's me, not you, I'm sorry.

It can cut and heal with the same gesture.  I'm sorry.  These 2 little words that we yearn for can be hollow and insincere.  Maybe it is time we use another phrase.  Give something away with more power.

Perhaps starting with "I was wrong" would go further in mending the fences damaged badly and never repaired with "I'm sorry".  Or better yet, we could stop causing pain to our fellow man.  Just saying....it would be nice.

Dear Christmas Letter Recipient,

Dear Friends and Family,

Wow!  Where did the year go?  Seems like yesterday when we were all ringing in the New Year and here it is the holidays all over again.  I hope that this letter finds you all well and enjoying all that the season can bring.

We thought that we would give you the updates on all the kids.  Boy they are something!  Our oldest, Bobby has been accepted to college (finally).  We never thought he would move out!  He doesn't go until fall but Bob Sr. and I have been packing his bags since last June.  He'll be 35 this year and as you know that is always a year full of wonder and change.

Stella, our beautiful girl Stella.  She's doing great.  She's still with the bank.  She's been promoted (again)!  We couldn't be more proud of her.  She's truly the apple of our eye.  Stella recently introduced us to her new roommate.  Her name is Maureen.  She's a handsome woman.  She is a personal trainer and does a lot of repairs around the condo.  I just wish Stella would meet a nice boy and give us those grandkids that we have been wanting.  It seems the girls are best friends.  They said that they were commited to their partnership.  We thought, isn't that sweet.  They even got matching commitment rings.  You know kids, so into showing their feelings.

Our youngest, Tommy.  He's still in rehab.  The doctor's say that he has to want to get clean.  It is beyond Bob Sr. and I why he would drink all the time.  We gave him such a good life at home.  We simply will not speak of it anymore.  We are above that.  We will just go on as normal.

That brings us to Bob and I.  We are enjoying retirement altough perhaps we have spent a lot more time together now than in our 40 years of marriage.  It has been interesting.  The first few months were splendid.  We saw the Grand Canyon and even went camping with the Snyders!  But then came the quiet of being together.  We have nothing in common and he's always around.  I've asked him to get a hobby.  He plays poker now.  Started 1 day a week but he's up to 3 days a week and is gone all hours of the day and night.  I truly don't mind as I get all that needs to be done here.  I've even hired a nice young man to do chores around the house.  What a nice young man.  He tends to my every need.  I've never been happier and I can tell people are really noticing the change in me.  I've taken up tennis again too.  My instructor is a god.

I hope you are all as blessed as we are.  We are living the life that we want you to see.  Please don't scratch the surface....I'm pretty sure we'd crack.

Merry Christmas!
Love,
The American Family

The marriage of traditions...

So I was thinking about Thanksgiving and holidays in general and the traditions that each of us hold near and dear to us....starting with the meal.  It all came to me while making a traditional turkey dinner the other night just because my husband wanted that for dinner....um, yes, I am that awesome to whip up a full turkey dinner on little notice!  I was thinking about how the simple parts of family meals are different from family to family.

I should tell you that I come from people that make green bean casserole with cream of mushroom soup, french style green beans and crispy fried onions on top.  Simple, high in calories and the lubricant needed to make that turkey slide right down your pipes.  Some people think its the gravy that makes it all go down.  I'm here to tell you it is the green bean casserole. 

My husband comes from a people that marries regular cut green beans with crisped bacon pieces and fresh sauteed onions.  An equally brilliant side dish with all the earmarks of a delicious waistline inch-adding, high calorie dish.  I remember the first Thanksgiving that I enjoyed with my then fiancee.  I looked all over for the creamy bean dish that I had always known and loved.  But there it was.  The future of my green beans right there in front of me.  Grandma Bates' bacon and green beans.  It would have been rude to refuse them.  I happily scooped them upon my plate and even had seconds as I recall.

I have since hosted many family dinners for the holidays...with both green bean dishes.  You see, Bill and I have been married for over 14 years and sometimes compromise is good but sometimes excess is best!  We'll compromise on the small stuff but matters of traditions and beans are nothing to play foolishly with.  It is always best to add a little extra to the holiday table for the blended families.

I hope that you all have a lovely and Happy Thanksgiving with your family....no matter what their bean of choice is!

So easily swayed....

It's true. I am easily swayed. I'm the kind of person that retailers dream of when they load up end-caps and impulse purchase isles at the check out.  Don't let them fool you.  There are PLENTY of cash register trained employees at work that day but they aren't there on register because the longer you wait in line the longer they have your attention to purchase some nonessential whoozie-whatsit or a patent pending dumafacochi.  Ah, yes the the heralded dumafacochi.  For example, it is a marvel that we have existed as a society till the day that someone came up with the fabulous "Hook, Line and Stinker".  As the name implies it is a game that you play while doing well....doing number 'two' in the loo.  Gone is the day of a little Reader's Digest during your post-digestive privacy.  Now you can spread out a floor mat and pull out your handy compact magnetic reel and go fishing for plastic fish.  I'm currently holding back about 14 really filthy jokes that are surely in bad taste over this gem.

I do love a really good impulse buy.  God bless the "As Seen On TV" brand placement at your local retailer!  I need something else to shove into the back of the closet and forget for another day.  There are plenty of fabulous options out there for a society consumed by consumerism.  We certainly don't lack an avenue for all of that disposable income we have.  I guess truth be told....I'm just mad that I didn't come up with some of those peaches where I could have made my millions!

My badge of honor....

Yesterday, I was sitting here and I looked down and saw it.  It was my visitor's badge from the elementary school where two of my children attend school.  A visible sign that I was there.  It is like a beacon to all to say I did something special today with my children at the heart of it.

I'm a stay-at-home mom so I guess there is always that feeling that I don't do what others do.  I don't leave the house for the 9-5 fast paced life like I used to.  I recall being considered a professional person.  I could package a loan for the secondary market in minutes years ago but now I don't think that I could accurately calculate a loan to debt ratio anymore.  And to go out just to go out....oh, I vaguely remember that.  Now, a hot night for me consists of staying up till 11pm and my fuzzy pj's of the day.  Last night I sported Thumber a la Bambi fame.

It is rare when I do something without my kids in the forefront in some way.  I certainly do all the less than glamorous things with them in mind....scrubbing toilets (mostly because they must dance while urinating--I think you get what I mean there), making meals, doing laundry (always endless laundry), whatever other domestic greatness I am mastering on any given day and of course my volunteer work.

I guess what I do is important but sometimes it is just nice to have others see what I do and not feel like I'm "just" a stay-at-home mom.  I'm glad that I was able to wear my visitor's badge....my badge of honor for all to see.

And Cupcakes for all....

It isn't often that I am rendered speachless and this time is no different!

I had to smile today when someone...suggested that I run for public office (altough....I have run for the school board...twice....unsuccessfully).  Boy, the face of politics would surely change then!  Let me take you on an imaginary tale of narcism and complete fiction...

Image if we were in a world where anything is possible...where even a slacker mom can achieve greatness.  You find yourself going to your local polling place to cast your vote for the town's public official of the day.  There are two candidates to choose from...the incumbent who has been in office for the better part of the last decade and a new comer....me, the cupcake candidate!

I imagine that I would run a clean and honorable campaign.  No mud slinging and saying things like, "the status quo is no longer for the Average Joe."  Corny and idealic campaign slogans stuck in your head for months at a time?  Not from me!  Wouldn't it just be nice to see just a name and a face and not some sort campaign trickery meant to have you think of an easier time or an easier way of life?  I'd like to just say: this is me, flawed, human and a bit brash.  I'd leave it up to voters to decide who to cast their vote for based on my positions and not my attack style.  Heck, you might even catch me heading to the grocery store in my cartoon inspired pajamas....where would my PR guy be then?

I would hope for a public forum for a debate.  I could thank the incumbent for their willingness to step up and serve when they did.  It is admirable no matter what their reasons once were.  I figure they stepped up when others didn't.  They were fairly elected and they showed that the system worked.  I would hope that I could use some of my humor too...a little dark, a little colorful and a whole lot of me!  I'm tired of seeing the mushed up and cranky faces.  Sometimes just being yourself is the way to go even if not popular.  Wouldn't it be nice not to see all the anger and bitterness?

I would make sure that I didn't make someone feel stupid or socially unacceptable for being in a different political party.  I sure wouldn't make them feel like less for dare I say it...disagreeing with me!  I would never want to make it about what we all have different about us but more about what makes us similar.  I certainly wouldn't post my opinions for all to see and then get mad when someone responded with a differing opinion.  After all, aren't we all out for the same freedoms and rights in the long run?

And then I would of course have to think of anyone surely possessing questionable taste in candidates when supporting me....sure, there would be cupcakes for all from the cupcake candidate!  Let them eat cake!  Wait...didn't someone else once say that foolishly too?

I'm sorry Cookie Monster...

Dear Cookie Monster,

I’d like to thank you for all the happy childhood memories I have of you.  Your fuzzy blue fur, your love of life, your inquisitive nature and even your love of all things COOKIE are what I remember.  Who didn’t love it when your beady eyes got all wiggly and giggly when you caught a glimpse of a delicious treat?  I dare say no one….not until we needed others to control our Nation’s weight issues.

Cookie, I’m a large woman but I don’t blame you.  I never have.  You see I don’t like cookies.  It’s true!  I actually don’t eat desserts except on a very rare occasion.  I never have wanted to eat cookies…not even when you would go into a silly cookie rage and gobble up your favorite cookies, chocolate chip.  I just loved you for you.  I didn’t judge you on your eating habits.  After all you are a monster and not a human boy or girl.  You aren’t made of flesh and bone.  You are made of fur, plastic and you have some dude’s hand up your…..well, you know, I don’t have to tell you.  Even as a child I never thought to myself, “gee, that guy is awesome I must eat cookies like him all day long.” 

Many of my generation turned out alright and we had only our parents to thank for that.  I’m grateful that public standards are so different now.  I would hate to think that my children were being unfairly influenced by your love of baked goods.  I would hate to think that while I am the one shopping and baking (or truly not baking) in my house that they were learning from you and not from what I placed in front of them.  I confess; I have yet to place a warm plate of cookies in front of them for their meal.  I do crazy stuff like give them a balanced meal but you didn’t teach me that.  Who was that?

Oh, Cookie, do you remember when you could just be you?  I do.  I like that you are embracing new things.  Trying the fruits, the veggies and the grains but isn’t the magic of you the frenzy and fun you had when you saw a cookie?  I’m sorry that our National weight epidemic rests upon your furry shoulders.  I guess we are a heavy weight nation because of the years of Cookie Brainwashing.  I hope you understand why your whimsical nature had to change.  It’s not your fault but we needed a Cookie Scape Goat.  I don’t know what breed of monster you are exactly but I think you are likely most closely related to the scape goat.  You’d have to be, right?

Cookie, I don’t blame you but we can’t be trusted to educate our children properly.  I mean…who was there for us?  Off to call my mother to thank her again!

Sincerely,

Karen

The power of words...

The power of words.

The pen is mightier than the sword.

Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.

I’m rubber and you’re glue.  Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you.

If life were only that simple!  Words, tiny meaningless letters till our advanced animal brains string them together in a way to describe, illuminate, communicate or to beat down a person, a group of people or a life style.  Words have power.  We give them power when we give them meaning.  Look up in a dictionary any word you want and you have empowered it.  Before, it was just letters strung together but now it has meaning and therefore power.

Words like gay, faggot, homo, dyke, queer have always been there.  But when did they become weapons?  “That’s so gay,” or “he’s a faggot” or “she’s a dyke” they weren't meant to tell the world how happy the person or item is or talk about a bundle of twigs or even an embankment of earth.  They are used to make the accused feel ‘less than’ as if a man loving another man or a woman another woman is ‘less than’ the ones slinging the words like daggers. 

Words like retard, loser and idiot are not meant to describe a delay to a process, a competitor who lost a challenge nor are they describing a person not holding a public office.  They are used to make others feel bad about their challenges or to boost the accuser when they pop the words like mints.  They are meant to insult and rarely to describe a situation with their original meanings.

Words have meaning, why do we have to use them for less than they deserve?  We have words that are rich and colorful but we are reduced to bastardizing words till they have lost their true meaning.  Be careful of the words you choose.  Words have power.  We’ve given them power by giving them meaning.  We’ve corrupted that power.  It’s time to take that power back.

Mommihood isn’t for us criers…

I said this phrase the other day joking away tears after my son was crying due to pain from an injury on the football field.  Come to find out, it is us criers that make for the best and loudest advocates for our children.

Some back story…My oldest son broke his wrist Saturday afternoon playing football.  He was taken via ambulance to Albany Memorial.  I was not there at the hospital but I was told that his treatment consisted of x-rays, ice, Ibuprofen, splint and ace bandages.  He was not casted at the time as my husband was told that due to the nature of the injury that we will need to follow up with an Orthopaedic Surgeon.  Visions of surgical nightmares and a crippled wrist flooded my head.  I decided to do as instructed and see an orthopaedist on Monday.

Monday comes….

We send the boy to school as his biggest fear at the time was messing up his perfect attendance record he has had since day one of Kindergarten.  It still makes me smile to say that.  What a cool kid!  I called around till I found an office that would get him in right away versus the hours of waiting that others promised us (“No, nothing till 3:45”).  We picked our son up at school and whisked him away to CROG (Capital Region Orthopaedics Group) in Saratoga.  We met with Dr. G, the doctor with the availability and the pleasure of our whirlwind appearance in his office.  He took x-rays that showed just how bad the break was.  The wrist bones were shifted off of the arm bones like ice cream sliding off a cone on a hot summer day.  He was just as confused as we were about why our son didn’t have his wrist set the day of the injury (2 days ago).  Then we talked options.  I suddenly felt weak.  Options?  To me I have often lived with the idea that doctors do what they do and I pay the co-pay.  It’s been a nice relationship for me.  I realized that Bill and I now had to make the decision.  When did we become the grown-ups?  It hit me.  We were and we were parents too.  We discussed how they could reduce the fracture in the office with local anesthesia at the wrist or we could look into sedation which would require going to a hospital.  After blank and simultaneously thoughtful looks my husband called his father for advice and I called my mother to come.  We both have ways of “dealing.”

It was decided that we would do the reduction with the aid of modern medicine.  So we were off to Albany Medical Center.  We spent a full work day in the ER waiting, worrying, crying, setting, casting, waiting, worrying, crying, RE-setting and RE-casting!  It was an adventure to be sure.  I’m not sure who fared worse…the little man or his two parents that grasped each other’s hands till circulation was cut off slightly.  I think that we braced each other for what we thought would be the worst moment of our lives to date.  We were right.

Nothing is like the moments that you watch your children breathe in the air of life for the first time or the moments that you can’t ease the pain, the confusion, the fear and the sorrow from their bodies.  It is the toughest trial to a parent and my son *only* had a broken wrist.  I can’t imagine what I would feel if something worse was wrong with him.  I recognize just how lucky we are and were this day and every one surrounding it.

Scotch saying hello to Josh.

It was a rocky day.  Between bouts of anger and fear we had really special moments too.  Josh was visited by a therapy dog named Scotch and her human, Tom.  He really liked that.  She jumped up and leaned on his gurney so he could pet her.  The golden lab smiled on command.  She also must have had a big lunch too.  She was a bit on the airy side if you know what I mean! 

We watched as they sedated our son and he was no longer “with” us.  He was in another place altogether.  He was in a world far, far away and I felt myself trying to pull him back with my voice, my touch and my tears.  I was afraid.  We watched as they pushed and pulled his bones into place.  Animals.  Strong animals were grabbing and pulling on my baby and I was helpless to make them stop.  They had to finish.  I was angry.  He started to come out of the sedation and the confusion and fear was earth shaking.  He screamed with primal abandon.  He was afraid for his life.  I was afraid again.  As he began to calm down he wanted his mom and dad.  He begged for us but wasn’t sure we were who we said we were.  He reached for us, pulled is to his chest without seeing us and stroked our heads.  I was overjoyed.  This was the most honest feeling of love I think I have ever felt.  His small hands were comforting me while making him feel that we were there. 

Josh trying to relax before sedation and reduction.

He soon remembered where he was, who we were and the words of the doctor who said, “he won’t have any memory [of the procedure]”.  He had only taken away part of that statement. 

“Can I still do math?” 

“What?” We asked. 

“Did I lose my memory?  Can I still do math?” 

“Buddy, what’s 5 plus 5?” asked my husband.

“10,” He whimpered. 

“Yes, sweetheart you can still do math!” I announced.  I was amused to no end.  Saying that I love this kid is just not enough!

I had to have the biggest signature!

Our trial was far from over I’m afraid.  As we waited for his cast to dry and harden we were told that the casting was not good and the bone shifted.  Unlike the funny Southwest Airline’s steward joke of “Shift Happens” this was not news that I wanted to hear.  I dreaded the idea of more meds and going through this again.  I soon rethought that when I found out that they were opting for a local pain blocker this time.  Oh boy!  It didn’t need to be moved as far but he was fully alert and felt it the entire time.  Trying to be brave for him was exhausting!  Our son made it through the ordeal of the day.  We got him his meal of choice and headed home.  A long 8 hour day in the ER deserved a good night’s rest.  I think that we all crashed where we landed when we finally made it home!

I've spared some of the details as some of those are private and really to retell them would cause me to relive those visions.  It’s best to soldier on and save those tears for another day.  Mommihood really isn’t for us criers….but I wouldn’t trade it!



Moisturizer…a boy’s best friend.

Nicholas got into Mommy's lotion.

Okay. I want to say first that both his parents were home...but sadly we were both involved in something else! 

“Twas the night before Monday when Pa was at the stove preparing his meal
and Ma was at her laptop amidst well wishes and that kind of deal.
Then in the other room there arose such a clatter
That we both sprang up to see what was the matter.
And what do our wondering eyes behold?
It was young Nicholas being so very bold!”

At least his skin will be soft, supple and won’t make him look a day over 28 months old.

When your kids get hurt…really hurt.

I am pretty good in an emergency situation.  I am usually calm, cool and collected but then….it is your kid that gets hurt!  One of the boys got hurt yesterday at his second football game ever.  I was at the other son’s football game because I am the team medic (I’m a highly trained band-aid applicator and jersey shirt tucker).

My husband was at the game with me as this was the first game for the youngest boy and we made a conscious choice to have us both at the 1st game.  Our oldest boy was playing at the same time in Colonie for his second game.  My father-in-law was there with him so he wasn’t alone.

Both games started at 3:00 and after the exciting hoopla of team introductions on the home field the game begins in Ballston.  It was just moments later that Bill (my husband) gets my attention.  He was on the phone with my father-in-law.  Our son was hurt and his wrist is most likely broken.  OMG!  Helpless and feeling a million miles away when truth is we were a half hour drive away.  I felt my eyes sting.  It was then I realized I was crying. So much for no tears in football!  Oh, I should tell you as the team medic I can assure you that tears and football go hand-in-hand!

Bill rushed off and I stayed on the field. Obligation and the fact that we had another child on the field meant that I wasn’t leaving.  That was really hard for me.  However, as a mother, I don’t think that I would have been any help in the situation.  I think that I would have made our son more upset and I’m sure that I would have relived the scene from “Terms of Endearment” when Aurora demanded pain medication for her daughter.  “Give my daughter the shot!”  No one wants to see their child in real pain.  I think that it was best that I stayed and tucked in shirts, aided with ice packs and shouted to parents to get another beverage when their kids sucked down the last bit of water at that warm afternoon game.

I was able to keep in contact via phone and text.  A marvel in technology when you think about it.  I didn’t need to find a payphone to call the hospital waiting room. It is a great asset to anyone to feel so connected.  I spoke with Bill.  I spoke with my son’s team coordinator.  I couldn’t thank her enough for being there.  I told her to thank them all. It meant so much to me to have him supported.  They are all parents too and they just get it!

So the boy came home splinted, wrapped and broken.  But it seems that the worst thing broken was just his wrist.  Can you believe it?  His spirit shined just as bright.  He had thought about quitting football forever but he was lifted up when he heard the team dedicated the game to him (winning 31-7…I guess the other team was given a TD for a mercy rule).  Coach said that he would work with our son to make sure he stays involved as it was important to us.  We think he likes the idea of being a ball-boy and even helping with “coaching” duties.

He made it through the night like a trooper.  He didn’t wake in pain or anything.  He’s made of strong stuff.  I did find an Orthopedic group based on recommendations.  When your child is hurt, it is then when you find out just how many of your friends have gone down the injury recovery road!  I called today (yes, on Sunday—per instruction from hospital).  I am a rule follower. I was surprised that my idea of this emergency is not what the answering service considers emergent.  Well…I am his mom after all!  I guess we wait and see. For those that know me they know that I’m not a wait and see kind of person!

So I’m off for the day….to wait and see.

I’ve got a secret…

I haven’t told anyone this…just you.  How many of you will see this remains to be seen but I need to let the secret out.


I’m a slacker mom.  That’s right a slacker mom.  I have heard so many times, “Karen, I don’t know how you do it.  Four kids, PTA, volunteering...how do you have time for all that you do?”  Please!  Don’t let me fool you…ever.  While I am a stay-at-home mom to 4 kids I am not the idyllic role model that I would have you believe me to be.  First, I swear like a trucker.  In fact, I may be worse.  So, 'June Cleaver' I am not! Second, I will let dishes sit for days if there are more important things to do.  So, 'Mrs. Brady' I am not (although I would like to mention that she had Alice).  Third, a shower everyday…only if I need to be in public and I really have to!  So a perfectly polished 'Bree Van de Kamp' I am not.  I do have flashes of desperation from time to time! And four…ah shucks.  Who needs a forth?  I’m too lazy to come up with more.  Perhaps that is the forth one!  I put on a good show for events and for the kids but aren’t there days that wearing PJ’s all day and drinking hot tea are just the way to go?

Today is one of those days I think. I think that I will get my 'Peggy Bundy' on and prepare to call for take out tonight.  It counts as a warm meal!  So PJ’s, tea and my magic wand—it’s shaped more like a toilet brush than I would have hoped but I should do at least one domestic thing today!

My first blog took a whacky turn!

I was feverishly hand writing (something great about a pen in hand to paper) my first blog this morning when it was clear that my Super Powers were not being used as they should. Oh I had funny moments of insight that were meant to amaze and entertain the masses. Then the deafening quiet was louder than ever before.

I found my youngest in the family room enjoying a little Disney Channel. Picture included and it speaks volumes to what this blog will be all about....the most perfectly imperfect mom you will ever come to know!

And to my little Nickel Pickle....you're welcome. And your future in politics is now in jeopardy...but Mommy is okay with that!