Seeing clearly now

I am sorry to have abandoned you all, my what 10 blog readers now? Oy...bad me. I've been running around at home and to lots of other blogs and trying to catch up, although Mel's advice to just declare bloglines bankruptcy and start over is likely right.

Last week, after finding out my GP didn't have any Swine Flu vaccine, I took the kids out of school and lined up for the shots. We had to go to a couple of places and luckily I discovered they were giving them out downtown at Public Health's Head Office, and I begged and pleaded my way in. I'm sure that I had it and same with Mac, but since no one would swab us, I needed insurance for Kaz and the nanny and Baby Julius. The staff were quite hostile at first, and almost had a guard throw a bunch of us out, but we all just kept smiling and begging and eventually the crowd wore them down. We got in, and filled out the insane paperwork, and each sat for the shot. Luckily I remembered the infertility video from Youtube that showed if you relaxed the muscle, an IM shot was painless. Either let your arm go totally limp, or stand pigeoned toed if you have to get it in the gluteous maximus. (Heehee, that means bum!)

I'm quite amazed at the controversy over the shot. I mean, I don't love every vaccine out there, frankly some are overpriced schlock. But for any serious illness? Oy...every ICU in town is overflowing. Maybe it's because most people haven't seen the kinds of tragedy I have in life, but everytime I see someone writing cavalierly about all the deaths from this, it drives me crazy.

Like it can't happen to them, only to "other people" like me.

I'm the boogeyman once again. And on both sides! I'm the one with the dead kids so I'm the scary talisman to those afraid of the swine flu. And I'm the one with the kids with ADD/ADHD/LD, and Kaz and I have reactions to vaccines, so I'm the scary talisman to the people afraid of the vaccine. So can we talk about proportions and odds?

Swine flu does cause miscarriage and stillbirth and neonatal death due to prematurity, no question, but lots of other things do too. I would know. Trust me on this.

92% of unvaccinated pregnant women will not get so sick on H1N1 that they will be in hospital or on a vent or die. But 8% will. Where will you be? Well, 90% of my blog readers may be fine, but 10% may not. *

Which one are you? Fucked if I know....it's airborne...you breathe air? I do.

Vaccines do cause a few minor side effects like sore arms in some people. But not the majority of people. And they sure as hell don't cause ADD or LD. Those have some pretty strong genetic ties. Again, I would know. Trust me on this. But you and your kids are not going to have the rare odd neurological reactions that I have had for lots of vaccines. You won't have febrile seizures and motor tics for days and you won't feel like a truck hit you. (I felt that way after the meningitis vaccine for example, but I willingly did it, because meningitis is way worse. So my hand shook like a mofo while I drank my coffee for a while. Meh, it is what it is.) I am the one in a million medical oddity. You are the 999,999 out of a million. It's ok, I've accepted that fact. You can too.

If you don't accept that, and instead project all of your inner terror on me, it diminishes the very real suffering I did go through as I lost my babies. It also diminishes everything I have done to survive and thrive.

And that is not ok.

So do you think you could all stop the transference?

(Exceptions being anyone with their own shit....)

At some point we have to live and go on and try to enjoy life. I got my shot and feel fine. (Yes, I know....felt like I should report my incredibly strange for me non-reaction to Health Canada as well.) And I am going to keep trying to change and transform and enjoy my life even if something bad happens in the future. I have to. I can't just sit around waiting for the wheel of doom to run me over. It's gonna have to chase me if it wants me.

Anyway, I've been mulling things and I decided to go ahead with something I really wasn't sure about. LASER eye surgery! So today I will lie down on a reclining chair and willing let a strange man point a LASER at me and carve a pentagram in my forehead gently shape my cornea so that I am no longer legally blind and wearing coke bottle glasses or contacts.

The contacts were getting hard to wear and I was constantly battling pinkeye. Really not ideal. At some point soon, I was no longer going to be able to wear them. Which meant verybadthings.

So at 11 am I'll be getting done. And for 2-3 days later I can barely even look at a computer screen. Something about glare? It will kill me! I'm going to ask Mr.Cotta to read me comments and posts and tweets and online articles so I don't lose my mind.

How in the fuck am I going to live for 72 whole hours without the internet? This could be--an adventure. I guess we'll have to see!

*Numbers approximate for sake of conversation

Revelations

Nope, this ain't a post about the Bible. Or about my awful poop experiences. (Yes, I still have to make a complaint about the hospital---debating how to proceed.)

In the meantime, I've been trying to get my kids settled into school. Buying clothes and books and supplies and figuring out what each kid needs for forms and medication refills and labelling each and every scrap of everything and God knows what else. It's a hell of a production line, and really not my skill set. If I hadn't been doing this for years--I'd be utterly confused. As it is, this year, with my nanny it was markedly easier because after I bought the labels, she could iron them on, and if I got bogged down or discouraged by it all, she just kept going and asked me what else needed to happen.

And having someone who can do the boring parts, or just encourage me when I encounter a bump in the road? Makes a big difference.

It's the reason I hire my professional organizer to come in at least once a year, to sort out the piles of paper into nice neat files and help me throw away the junk and sort the toys into bins and figure out what has to go to storage and what has to stay here to be used next. I try to do it on my own--but I get lost. It's the ADHD or ADD or whatever the new name is. The medication fixes a lot, but not everything. Btw, yes, I think I may have convinced my doc to keep renewing my meds, but I still don't have a definitive answer. I have an interim prescription and she now has the reports from the shrink and the cardiologist so I'm hoping. In the meantime, we cross our fingers and pray.

And that's what the revelation part of this post is about. It's about all the people in the world who are in denial about the severity of ADHD. It's about all the doubters and the whiners and the skeptics who don't want to believe the science. They remain convinced that it can be caused by the moral failings of mothers, like the chemicals we evil moms use or the cars we drive or the food we serve or the negative thoughts we secretly harbour that make our kids sick. You know, like autism and cancer and paralysis and blindness and deafness and diabetes and freckles and every other damn disease cause by shitty mothering.

After all, it always the mother's fault, right? Right?

When I first entered the blogosphere I never mentioned that I had ADD. A friend of mine, an employment lawyer, had made it clear that in the real world, I would be instantly fired by anyone who found out, and that I would never be hired again, and so I knew how dangerous it was to self-disclose. In the Liberal Party, like all political parties, I'd be a pariah. (Half the party has ADD, and pretends they aren't self-medicating with double espressos at Starbucks. What? you thought those nasty exchanges in the House of Commons happened by mere chance? HA) And the many vicious nasty comments made to me, by Doctors, friends and relatives who found out? Oy...I stopped telling anyone. But blogging means sometimes commenting at odd hours. Long after my meds had worn off. And sometimes my comments were ouch...so I knew I had to give y'all a heads up.

And I mostly didn't blog about it. I don't even have a label of my sidebar. Can you say---SHAME? It wasn't a big deal though until I had to go off of it, or change meds or talk about the kids assessments and their medications. But it still bugged me to see ridiculous posts or news stories that were based on zero research and bad science. And all of it based on the idea that people would do anything, anything to avoid having that label on their kids and that medication given to them.

Then shortly before BlogHer '09, I found a referral on my statcounter for one particular mean-type website, and someone in the comments said I was a crazy drug user and had my kids drugged up. And then another person emailed me directly and called me a baby killer. And I froze and turned into a tiny little shrivelled up gutless wonder.

The only reason I even went to BlogHer was because Cecily said she would talk to me and we could hang out together. I worked on the assumption that not one other soul would even look at me, and in fact, that all of the attendees would call me a drug addict and a baby killer to my face out loud. And then laugh. I actually rehearsed in the mirror ahead of time what I would do when someone did say that to me. So I wouldn't cry or faint or vomit.

But no one said that! Everyone was really really nice. Not one person was even snarky.

The best part? When a couple of people came up to me and asked me about ADD and wanted to talk about their own diagnosis and their kids, and what I thought, and if they should get assessed, so they could get help. And all the evil troll words started to melt away, and the weight lifted and I realized that there is a point to me talking about my issues if it helps others.

You see, the Establishment in our society doesn't want anyone correctly diagnosed or treated for any mental illness. After all, if the current underclass was able to live up to their potential, what would happen? If all the brainpower and motivation in the world was harnessed and being used productively, I think our economy would soar. But then---the current members of the old boys club might not be on top. They and their progeny, just might have to work for a living. So it's better to blame Moms and tell everyone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and work on their stiff upper lips. The media does a great job of spreading this meme.

So about yesterday. My husband's cousin stops by in the morning. She and I have been discussing our kids and their educations for years and her oldest son is gifted (an absolutely brilliant writer) and has some Asperger's/Autism features, but not quite all of them. He has huge trouble with math and can't plan his assignments and is very sensitive to stimuli. But not enough to precisely fit any criteria. It's kind of the maddening part of the assessment process. Often the psychometrist can't quite pin down a label, and god knows the Ministry of Education wets itself with it's desire for a label and demands it for each and every kid. Doctors can tell results accurately in terms of IQ score and fine motor control and attention ratings--but whether it's a central auditory processing disorder or a non-verbal learning disability or asperger's or autism or ADHD inattentive, hell, that's always a close decision. And her son has had all of those labels except ADD, until his latest assessment.

For 15 years, she has had every kind of LD help imaginable for him, from accomodations to special tutoring and public schools and private schools. Personal assistants and special day planners and organic food and all natural everything. They have literally turned their entire lives upside down trying to help their son, and his oh so similar younger siblings to succeed in school. And not one thing has ever worked. J, their oldest, is now utterly depressed and convinced that he will never make it to university or even hold down a job because he can't figure out what is going on in the world around him.

They have done everything right according to the ADD skeptics. They don't have cable TV, they barely have a TV at all. They only have a basic computer for work. They spend all of their time out in nature. She has taught him so much she practically has homeschooled him while he attended public school. He reads lots of books and there are no chemicals in their home. They don't even have any off-gassing furniture. All their food is made from local organic sources and never pre-prepared.

And none of it has ever done shit. Nothing. Not one bit of good.

And it never will.

Genetics is kind of unbeatable that way. You need actual medical care to treat a medical condition. Guilt and denial and judgement don't help, at all. I might have wanted to wish away my genetic clotting disorder, but the only way I could ever beat it and get a live baby was to take heparin. And I can wish until I am blue in the face, but my brain is my brain, and yes, maybe a little therapy can work on some aspects, but in the end, I have to accept my body and find a way to deal with it.

And so I opened up to her about my ADD and my medication and the boys and how it has transformed their lives and mine. I told her that I was extremely worried that Mac was becoming depressed last year and his self-esteem was very very low, and he was moody and sad. Then after he started medication and began to get A's and make more friends, it was much much better. He is so much happier it's hard to describe. I told her that before meds, Kaz was so distracted I was concerned that he would someday forgetfully walk into traffic and get hurt, and now, he can pay attention in class and understand everything. He still has some learning issues, but they mostly are writing and fine motor related.

And as I recounted the damages and injuries my kids and I had racked up over the years while unmedicated---the car accidents, the near drownings, the broken bones, and the lacerations, her eyes widened in horror and talk turned to her husband.

Her now retired, news reporter husband-- a wonderful writer who loves to sit and muse and make conversation, if only he could ever find his way to his destination. The artistically minded guy who dreams and writes books and literally does, wander into traffic. Really. When he isn't falling off of their roof or cutting his hands on the bandsaw or forgetting to file their taxes.

Never mind her connection to my husband's family and all of their interesting mental issues. The same issues that have allowed them to be come brilliant experts in their field and crusading entrepeneurs and owners of companies also mean that their edges are a little frayed somedays.

And all of those genetics have come crashing down and combined into our kids now. But because the Doctor who is seeing J. knows nothing about ADD, and is so focused on his sadness at failing, he thinks they should avoid ADD medications. So he continues to fail, and gets sadder about that failure every single day. The doc he is seeing thinks drugs could cause some sort of severe side effect. To him they are a "last resort." Meanwhile the kid drinks loads of coffee every day and is sinking into some sort of clinical depression.

So we gently discussed getting another opinion and talking to an ADD specialist or to our pediatrician and how the tablets only last 4 hours and the long acting 15 hours, and it's no big deal because the half-life is so quick as they leave your body. If it doesn't work, no need to take it. If there was a side effect, it would be gone rather quickly. She asked if I could talk to her oldest, convince him to try it, maybe tell him my story. Perhaps have our kids talk to each other. I told her I would be happy to.

As we talked, her face changed and I could see that she was beginning to think about all the ways in which her life might have been different if someone, somewhere hadn't been so opposed to diagnosis and medication for her husband, and her kids and maybe even herself. What if he had been diagnosed at an early age? What would his career have looked like? Would have have been so frustrated? Would he have needed antidepressants? What about her kids? Could she have had a career after they were born? Instead of spending her days and nights trying fruitlessly to solve his issues and get him therapy and school help...Would he have some friends? Would he be happier? Would they all be happier?

My heart is breaking for her. She is sitting at her house right now grieving the life her family might have had....if prejudice hadn't gotten in the way.

I wonder how many more families like this are out there, needing help, help they will never ever get.

Pigs are flying

Since I got back from BlogHer, I have had swine flu, and now the baby has swine flu and we are trudging through. Mac had it last June, but now---oy. I thought I dodged a bullet, but apparently it's hard to catch, and he just didn't pass it on properly, bad child. Would have been much more convenient to get in June, you know.

I have been doing some commenting when possible. The only other things I have updated are Facebook rarely and twitter cause I can reach them on my blackberry, and I long ago mastered the art of balancing a cellphone while a small child screamed in agony and slapped the shit out of me at 4:00 am.

(If you aren't on twitter, you can read me and anyone there, by clicking on the sidebar link and reading them, or you can read any tweets on google reader or bloglines by clicking on the little orange button with the wavy lines that sits on a twitter profile. )

Piggy flu baby Julius looks pretty healthy during the day except for the runny pink eyes, runny nose, coughing, whining, diarrhea, cramps, intermittent fever and such. It's the all night screaming that kind does me in. But it's really not bad. Not as bad as RSV anyway.

Oh, about BlogHer? Best goddamn thing I've ever done. The keynote speeches? Rocked my world, I laughed, I cried, I saw whole worlds I never knew existed. I adore these women. I think I'd hurt anyone who tried to hurt them. Mostly because, as I told Mel (Stirrup Queens-Mel), you have all saved my life. When no one on earth cared about my pain, you were the women, and men, who stood by me and kept me going.

I can't forget that.

Which is why I have such an need to save you all right back.

And the rumoured, supposed bad behaviour of some women? I didn't see any negative things, but then again I'm used to Liberal Party conventions, and ummm, errr, let's just say that Liberals really are on a whole 'nother scale of rowdy, ok? I've seen fistfights, and near riots and pregnant women being almost crushed in crowds if it wasn't for the security details. I've seen things that would blow your mind, at Tory conventions, (literally, table full of blow) and Dipper conventions (don't ask...) too, so hey, maybe I'm jaded?

(And yes, they were male dominated conventions, and no one blinked an eye at their behaviour. Hmmmm, coincidence?)

I do think that some of the companies involved at BlogHer acted poorly. I won't get very detailed here, but I do think they misjudged their audience. They seemed rather self absorbed, and not very aware that people like me, consumers with large budgets, were there. In fact, I don't think it actually occurred to them that some of their company's stockholders might be there, watching them.

Little message I'd like to get across:

Hi Marketers, not everyone at BlogHer is poor, or lacking in connections. Some of us don't need ads or free swag, (Yes, we'll take it, for fun, but we don't need it, big difference). But we were so totally fucking unimpressed with your company's patronizing sales reps and marketers that we short sold your stock for kicks when we got home. In fact, some of us have friends, who manage mutual funds and pension funds, and we told them that you suck at customer service as well.

You know, like I would, if I was one of those not so poor not so connected types.......

Heh

I know--marketers think all mommybloggers are poor and grasping and desperate for ads and freebies. And some do need the cash and more power to them if they can feed their kids and make it. But whether we need the money or not, we all deserve respect and dignity. Cause you never know who is watching. And who has the back of her peeps.

Anyway, I just know that I have 1400 new friends, all fabulous, kind, and lovely women. We laughed and drank and learned about Google SEO and deep links and design and all sorts of cool stuff.

And then we all caught BlogHerebola from each other.....scuse me while I go take some cold meds and go to bed.

Got any bootstraps?

I've been leaving comments and tweets, etc. that try to describe the very bad thing has happened, and not really explaining anything, so I figure it's time to say it here.

Two problems:

First: to any of my recently acquired political followers....I am an emotional writer and I know most of you are not, in fact, let's cut the crap, members of political parties are not allowed to simultaneously have both careers and emotions or mental illness or anything but serious debates and personal lives filled with elegance and sunshine and puppies.

So please go away if this makes you uncomfortable. Come back some other day, k?

Second: after my comments on some blogs recently, about the futility of getting help from doctors with infertility or pregnancy loss...I know that it hurt some of my personal friends to read that. Because they really really want to believe that their doctors care if they get pregnant or if their babies live or die, and I was perhaps too blunt. I really do need to stop that, at least on other people's blogs. It kinds sucks all the hope out of the room. They can come to my blog to abandon all hope, right?

So again, if you need to believe that Doctors give a shit if we live or die, and that medicine is about helping people attain a quality of life, you should look away. Because this story really will suck every last ounce of hope out of the room.

The story is that for many years I have had a mild PSVT, which is a spontaneous super fast heartbeat, that comes on and then goes. It can be serious, like with Atrial Fibrillation but over the last 15 years of pregnancies and miscarriages, etc. I have had extensive tests to make sure that mine is the nice mild boring kind. Basically, about three times a year, my heart races anywhere from 120-170ish beats a minute, for about 2 to 3 minutes and that's it. If it lasts longer than that, I just have to do a Valsalva Maneuver which means I push down like I'm pushing out a baby or pushing out a poop, and it ends. (I always call it a vulva maneuver, hehe.) It just ends. And there is no residual heart damage, no funny beats, no nothing.

After a while I almost forgot about it, until someone asked me specifically about heart issues. And then nine years ago I saw the episode of ER where the student Doctor admits to having ADHD and tries to go off her meds and they showed what she was like. And I saw myself on the screen and realized that it was me. I went to a Doctor, had a battery of tests and after a full assessment, started taking ADHD medication.

And the universe shifted on it's axis.

As far as the PSVT I've done holter monitors and BP checks and echocardiograms and stress tests and for the last eight-nine years I've been on my ADD/ADHD meds while those tests were done. And not once did I ever have a high blood pressure or a funny test result. If anything, I was the healthiest person my cardiologist had in his practice. I actually asked him why bother coming back, but he said hey, every couple of years, just visit and we're done. I do have the clotting issues that caused my miscarriages but my cardiologist doesn't think they are linked to heart issues, and I have none of the other risk factors like stiff arteries, etc that might mean I have a potential cardiac issue. So everything was fine.

Until I went to Vancouver and partied for 4 days at the convention. No sleep, bad food, drinking lots, Starbucks by the bucketful, and lots of stress due to events and then trying to get my breastmilk back to Toronto on the plane even though the Canadian government (CATSA) has illogically decided that breastmilk is a dangerous substance and breastpumps are bombs. Regular readers here know that any encounter with government makes me so anxious I want to vomit, so you can just imagine how bad it would be if I was forced to have an argument with a security guard. I mean adrenaline city here people. The Americans let breastfeeding moms bring pumps and frozen breastmilk without babies on their planes, and so does every other country and airline in the world. They know that moms need to keep up milk production and that forcibly dumping milk is ridiculous. Except for Canada....so I had stress.

So much stress that I had an SVT on the way home, and the valsalva thing didn't work, mostly because I wasn't pushing very hard. (Grunting like that in front of others is embarassing, and hard to do quietly on a crowded plane, ok?)

There was big drama blah blah blah and finally some medical personnel got me to push hard enough to stop it, and it was over and I felt fine. Even the doctor who saw me afterwards said it was ok, no issues, no problems.

The big problem happened later when I saw my family doctor, Dr.J., who abruptly decided that this means I can no longer take my ADHD medication. Even though I wasn't on any of the medication on Sunday and in fact, had this SVT happen when I had no medication at all. She will not renew my medication because she is worried about her liability and wants another doctor to spend months rerunning all these stupid cardiac tests and reassess everything, and possibly end my entire prescription forever. (Note: she does not think it's dangerous, it's all about getting sued. Plus she has never liked me being on any medication and this is the perfect excuse for her.) She also thinks it's no big deal to go without psychiatric medication for me or anyone else except the most severe cases and that I should learn some coping strategies.

Coping strategies??

That's right Doc, because a major biochemical imbalance of the brain can be dealt with by coping. In fact, I hear that all the mentally ill are just a bunch of fakers and drug addicts and lazy people, right? I'm such a slacker....if I just pulled myself up by my bootstraps, I'd be fine, right?

Sigh.

I have been in tears ever since, trying to figure out how much medication I have left and being terrified of what will happen when it runs out. I've been trying to find another doctor and possibly a specialist to do battle with them and convince them that ADHD is real. Still freaking wondering if I can I parcel my last meds out carefully, how many social events do I have? How will I appear in public? What will I do when I get lost, get into car accidents, get speeding tickets, lose my purse, lose my phone, lose my way, am late for every single appointment, school pickup, forget to pay bills, and most of all tell people off.

Off my medication, I am the master of the vicious retort, the nasty awful comment that hurts and tears down others. On my medication, I might think it, but I keep my mouth shut. Medical people call it inappropiate verbal impulsivity. I call it Foot in Mouth at it's most benign, and terrible bitch at it's worst. Adderall works perfectly for this symptom for me. Nothing else does, and I've tried them all, trust me. Without it I have no spatial awareness and no social perceptions. I truly cannot read a room or the people in it. I fall over things, stumble around like a drunk even when I'm sober, injure myself, choke on food, (Heimlichs are painful, didja know?), and just generally am too loud and act like an ass. Off my medication, I have failed every academic test I've ever taken, and screwed up every job for pay I've ever done.

And jobs I don't get paid for? Like being a Mom? I suck at it....I forget to make meals and get kids to activites and school and lose notes and lose track of papers and just generally feel so angry and frustrated with myself for endlessly failing it all, that frankly, I'm scared of how bad a parent I'll be off the medication. I lose my patience, and yell at my kids like a shrew instead of calmly just making them do what they should do. As a wife, I embarass my husband in public by saying and doing ridiculous things and I become a burden on him, not a partner. When I was pregnant and breastfeeding he kind of blamed it on my hormones, but after a while, that excuse got pretty weak. It's not fair to him or to our lives to suddenly incapacitate me because a doctor doesn't think my disease exists.

And before you say it---I know that there are people with ADHD who function without medication. Well, every illness has degrees and mine is severe. And frankly, I do question how well people function without medication. They make a big public thing about it and in the end just make it harder for people who do need meds because they make it look like we're the weak ones and they just managed find the bootstraps and all of us fuckups could just get it together, we'd be fine too. I sincerely wish I could find someone who would publicly stand up and say that they can't function without medication and how awesome and wonderful it is so the rest of us wouldn't feel so inadequate.

This diagnosis explained my entire life, and since I started medication my life has changed so completely, that as a consequence, no one believes that I could really be that bad off meds, because it's been so long since they saw me such a mess. When I was pregnant and off medication, before Motherisk said it was okay to take it, I just hid in my house and spoke to nobody. (And, yeah, I made some awful comments on blogs by accident then until I stopped because I saw that I was a mess.) I'm worried that I will now screw up even more and make ridiculous comments and hurt the very people I care about the most, all the bloggers I read, who have been so wonderful to me, and who love me. I would die before I would hurt you, but I don't know how I can blog and comment and not hurt you all if I'm off my meds. If this forces me into retirement and then I can't get any support, then what the hell will I do?

I have begged my doctor at two different appointments this past week, and cried and tried to explain what this means, but she really doesn't understand. At this point, without meds, I cannot go back to school and try and do my graduate degree, and I cannot work because I'll just get fired. I can't participate in the Liberal Party because I will inevitably fuck up and wreck everything and I'd rather they think I just disappeared than permanently ruin my public reputation. (Yes, there are dozens and dozens of people in the party with mental issues who may or may not take their meds---and trust me, there is an obvious reason so many of them have political problems. It's all I can do not to urge them to get help...) My husband has enough stress what with his brother's mental illness and his business and he can't take over everything. It's one thing to say that a nanny can do the laundry and make sure the kids get fed, but as wonderful as ours is, she can't be their mother, and frankly, I want to do that. After all this work to get live kids I want to be the one to enjoy them and see them and talk to them and be the one to comfort them. I don't want to be the blob in the corner who lives in her own little world and stares at the wall.

Really that's what this comes down to. I really didn't like the person I used to be before medication. I like the new person I have become a lot more and as I accomplish more and succeed at things I like myself even better. I finally have my family complete and I could have a career and not screw it up, and maybe just maybe actually be a success in life instead of the mess I have always been.

I think that is also why I am most angry and offended at this Doctor. I am grown adult with an ability to understand the medical issues and weight the risk/reward ratio. I know what an SVT is, (a big fat nothing) and I know how to handle it. I also know that I have had these SVTs dozens of times since I was a little kid and I sure as hell wasn't on ADHD meds then. But whose body is it? Don't I deserve to make the final decision? If I, a grown woman, decide to refuse medical treatment for a physical ailment like cancer, it's legal in Canada, and then I'm the one facing the consequences. Same for mental illness. There is a huge amount of literature on a patient's right to refuse medication. Well, why the hell doesn't it work the other way? Can't I make sure I GET treatment for an illness I have been proven to have? If I have a Charter Right to security of person, then doesn't that imply that I have the right to get medication for mental illness and not just to refuse it? And why are mental issues treated so differently from physical issues? Why is mental quality of life not as important as physical? Why is the medical profession so invested in creating physically healthy patients who are forced to endure foggy brains and vegetative-like states? To me, that isn't the quality of life I want for myself. I have a right to live my life the way I want to, as an intelligent calm rational person.

I have a right to sanity.

blogging a little, maybe a lot, maybe too much

Still tired as hell and not sure why. I think when I returned I got a cold or something? Or maybe it's because the baby is up all the time. Off to a walk-in clinic and maybe I'll feel better after he feels better.

There are a dozen things I'd like to blog about, especially the Nanny Series the Star is running right now. I'm glad the province is going to legislate the agencies--but that really won't solve the problems inherent in the system. I mean, for pete's sake, why are nannies forced to live with the employers? Why isn't it a choice? And why does it take two friggin' years to sponsor a nanny you've never met? What if she arrives and doesn't like you, or you don't like her? And it takes months to get a permit when a nanny does want to change jobs. Why? It takes one hour to fill out all the forms and two years for a civil servant to read? WTF? And for infertile women like me, who have gone through multiple losses, asking me to sponsor a nanny ages before I even get pregnant or have a live baby is not just stupid, it's cruel. (Same for parents who are trying to adopt or foster, btw.) What was I supposed to do, apply every month for a nanny and when I get my period or have another miscarriage I call up and cancel? And then apply again the next day? Over and over and over again every month for years? At nine months I still needed therapy to buy a pack of diapers, never mind hire a nanny....I remember contemplating a nanny, and thank God we were able to find someone who I didn't have to sponsor. After that high-risk delivery I was incapable of taking care of the baby alone and I needed a caregiver for myself, not just a baby nurse.

What do people do who experience sudden disability or have a stroke or need eldercare or lose a daycare spot do because their daycare shuts down? Quit their jobs? I guess the federal government thinks they should be screwed, huh?

Here's an idea. Let the nannies apply to Immigration as certified caregivers, and arrive in whatever numbers that arrive. We know that all of them will be hired instantly because we have such a huge need due for eldercare and childcare. HRDC has documented it. Then have employers apply to immigration as certified employers and let them hire whoever they want, whenever they want. They just let the government know when they get matched up and go from there. And no one has to live with anyone if they don't want to. Simple.

Next question: Why is it that after a nanny has worked for two years as a live-in caregiver, and should be automatically eligible for citizenship, then why does it take another two years to get landed immigrant status? And cost $900? They have already passed security and health checks, etc. the first time they entered. They fulfilled all their obligations, for fuck's sake. It should be instant. Fix all that slow as molasses bureaucratic mess, and you fix all the issues. As for the media coverage, some of the objections that have come up in the comments of the articles on the Star are pretty stupid as side issues go. There are almost no Canadians born here* willing to work as nannies, regardless of how much you offer to pay, so no, I really wish all the anti-immigrant right wing nutbars would STFU about how we should be keeping jobs at home. Face it, white Canadians like me are lazy and overprivileged and won't work as caregivers. I'm just willing to admit it. ;) HRDC is a lot more polite about it, but who is kidding who people? If we were willing to change diapers for a living, then there would be applicants for jobs. As it is, there are none. The other strange thing is the comments from people who don't like anyone hiring nannies, white or foreign at all, because they think that anyone with a nanny is a Forest Hill snob. Umm, not quite. I remember thinking that and feeling a bit odd about it until I got used to the idea, but it really can be a good solution for some people. In Canada, excepting Quebec, daycare spots are as scarce as hen's teeth and if you can get one, it's incredibly expensive for anyone with more than one child. Plus, schlepping more than one kid to a daycare is difficult at best. In the rain or the snow? In a rural area or for anyone with a long commute? On a day when the kid is sick and you pray that the damn daycare won't turn you away? And some of us have no relatives, or relatives that are too old and disabled to look after young kids, or some of us have moms who are young enough to still have jobs and work for a living and can't work for free and watch our kids.

Lots of families use nannies to help with big families. Some have money, lots don't. Some have made a philosophical choice, some have medically fragile children who cannot go to daycare. Some have extended family like an older relative who needs care in the same house as young children.

It's just life--now if only the government would help people instead of screwing up the system so much. Sigh....

As you can see from this long extended rant, I need to get some more professional intellectual stimulation. I wasn't going to write, and then I did. I am behind on posting and commenting and reading. Not good. I keep writing and rewriting this post, and my brain has lots to get out. But writing in the house is hard because the baby is taking up my attention. Or my older son wants to know what a "period" is and I had to turn red while explaining. Or Mac wants to show me his latest Bionicle creation. And I am running my ass off because I have to run this house on my own while my husband goes off and has brilliant conversations with intelligent people and I am stuck---here. Blogging is great, but I need to get out of this house, and speak to real people in person.

I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I need something else. Maybe someone can hire me to fix the government, hmmm? Unlikely. They like it being a big goddamn disaster.


*with the exception of one commenter on my blog, and one woman I've met personally, I've only met foreign born nannies in 13 years of parenting, really.

You are good for me, now unsubscribe

*Update below*

You give me perspective.

I remember to feel grateful for what I have, and not just what I lack.

When people starting moaning about how poor they are because their portfolio dropped 37%; and really they aren't poor because they actually HAVE a fucking portfolio and they are moaning from a position of privilege, you write and remind me of Darfur or just the average kind of desperation that we real people struggle with.

And I shut my mouth.

I was at a fundraising meeting tonight and I was actually gone from my baby for an entire 3 hours. And when my husband emailed me on the berry trying to trasmit intense guilt about the lack of nannies and frozen breastmilk I totally rolled my eyes, because I actually was not worried. 25 tonnes of gourmet homemade baby food and twelve boxes of cereal means that life is not so bad peeps. The babe will make it.

(Google thinks that the correct spelling for breastmilk is buttermilk; am peeing with laughter *nevermind* *stupid aside* Sadly they also think that the correct spelling of Darfur is "deafer". Good God who is running Google? YOU ASSMORONS AT GOOGLE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPELL DARFUR, no wonder everyone there is dying...)

Seriously, there is a point where you wonder if anyone in the real world; the meat world; can handle the real you. The terrible raw honest dead baby crazy lady you. And you try. You trust a few precious people with the real awful you. But they can't handle it. They pretend. They try. They find your blog by accident and they try to be so kind and not tell you that they know all about the real person you are, but it slips and the world is shifted and you just really honest to freaking god wish they would click away and never come back. So you could be you.

In case any of you care, I have a concussion, but not a fractured skull, only because no one has looked with their magic X-RAY machine, or the magic CAT SCAN machine. I also have ADD/ADHD AKA the magic disease that does not exist in the media world, but I'm only saying that so you will quickly unsubscribe from the the crazy lady. The concussion did not cause the ADD, it was already there. Suck it.

Anyway, we finally booked a vacation, but my husband hates me so it may suck a lot. Okay, he really doesn't hate me, but he is kind of peeved with me tonight. Enough? We are going to the Mayan Riviera for March Break, and we are going to an okay fancy-shmancy resort, but not the most perfect one on earth, because it is what it is, and we are going to be happy with what we have and that's good and we got a good price and we need some perspective. My hubs is okay with it finally!!!! Meanwhile, my BFF is driving me insane trying to get us to cancel and go other places, because she is like my sister and worries about us and wants us to have the perfect place. By the way, if you ever have more than two kids and want a vacation online, I know several places that will book five people in a room now. It should be more but really, people who work in the resort industry and have no business to speak of should be more flexible, like sayyyy-be willing to book adjoining rooms, or stick a baby in a room.

BTW, Jackie, who commented on my last post, and is quite welcome to promote herself on my blog, is THE GREATEST MOST TOLERANT TRAVEL AGENT ON EARTH. Feel free to hire her. Anytime.

She will put up with your crazie, anytime. Or at least my level of crazie. Maybe not yours, heh. Cause you just might suck more than me. Hard to believe, but true.

Just sayin'

Ok, only kidding, you really are good for me, likely in fact the best therapy evah. Ten times better than the dickheaded shrinks who drive me crazy.

*Just realized that this title is confusing. Regular blog readers please stay because you are good for me, people who know me from real life either political or personal and are secretly reading me, please unsubscribe.*

The real big winner

Lord, I am such a star it's a wonder the world doesn't just imitate everything I do.

Sigh....

Before I explain why, an update, Julius is feeling much better. We switched antibiotics last Friday and his fever is now completely gone and his ear seems better. He's off his schedule, but it's fixable. So that is the good news.

On to my tales of woe, last Friday, I got my Form 6 in for a delegate spot for the Liberal Party Leadership at the very last second on earth, and discovered later that my husband had gotten confused and thought that I was going alone, but since it's April 30th-May 3rd, Julius will only be 11 months and still breastfeeding and there is no way I'm going without him. Except for the fact that my nanny can't come since she is going to be elsewhere, and the Liberals generally don't provide childcare at conventions. And now I am either stuck trying to find a nanny out in Vancouver who can watch him in the hotel room while I go out to parties and he is sound asleep, or at least someone to help me during the day so I get to eat and shower and pay attention to the speakers.

And of course, my husband has to agree to let me take the baby all that way. He is hesitant because when I've taken one of the kids to a convention before, it was really crappy and I did not enjoy myself at all. And the baby at the time, Kaz, had his schedule all screwed up by the end. Not fun for him either. Mr.C. could take care of him, and I'd just leave frozen milk, but I'm not sure that will be so great.

Thing is, I went to a conference when Mac was 11 months old and left him behind, and hauled a breastpump with me all over god's green acre, and missed him terribly and that wasn't much fun either. I missed loads of stuff because I was pumping in my room all the time, and because I couldn't freeze it and it was too many days, in the end I had to dump the milk I pumped, which killed me. I don't mind breastfeeding in public, and dammit, nobody better even try to stop me, but I am not going to use a breast pump in the middle of the convention floor. That would just not work.

I'd been mentally preparing myself to be away from Julius for BlogHer in July and thought that would work since he would be a little older, and breastfeeding a lot less, if at all, but this feels just too soon, you know?

Stupid Liberal Party.....gahhhh, and they wonder why so few women and men of parenting age show up at these things. They have loads of singles, and young people and old ones, but almost no women between the ages of 25-45 ever show up at these things. If they do, they are mostly staff. (Based on my observations anyway.) Honestly, I am going to have to fight to get to bring my breastfeeding baby into the individual meetings.....some idiot will likely make me pay an observer fee for him! Which means I either miss some debates because I am somewhere pumping, or I miss the debates because I am feeding him outside the door, straining to hear. The NDP has fabulous free childcare, pretty much round the clock, and it let's all babies and small children into conventions whereever parents go. They have had it for over twenty years with huge success, but that would be waayyy to progressive for the Liberals, practically socialist, so that's a no go.

Oy.

A smarter person would have checked this out sooner and made better plans....fuck I am stupid.

Plus we put off taking a vacation for so long that my husband is not thrilled by the selection and price, even though we have one of my blog readers who is a travel agent, Jackie, working her tail off for us, trying to find us a deal. She is doing a fabulous job, but even she can't make a five star all inclusive resort in the high season suddenly drop it's price to nothing. He is slowing accepting this, sort of like he is slowly accepting the fact that when your roof falls in, you might have to renovate. You know?

More Oy.

Again, a smarter person would have checked it out and done a better job, maybe gone in February. I am stupid.

And bound to get stupider. Last night after the Oscars, I was sprawled on our bed, half asleep. My hubs comes in the room and I awake with a start---and smack my head right on the glass corner of the night table. I howled in pain, grabbed my head and saw blood. My husband ran for a cold cloth and ice, but I suddenly realized there wasn't just a little blood, but a giant gusher and ran to the washroom. After we cleaned up what must have been pints and pints of blood, we figured it was only a tiny cut, (the head is a veiny place, yes?). Bigger problem, I think I have a concussion, and with my crummy osteoporotic bones, likely a hairline fracture. Definitely a headache and dizzy anyway.

So there you are folks, don't you want to be just like me? Yeah, I thought not.

Oy

one more thing

sick baby now has bronchitis
annual fundraiser a big 'ol mess
friends not available right when I need them
birth relatives violating emotional boundaries
in-laws turning into unrecognizable schadenfreude experts
husband and I having huge fight about unattractive schadenfreuders
roof has an ugly tarp and ceiling still falling in
architect unable to remember previous instructions, keeps sending weird drawings
hormones now undetectable (LH & FSH) so I may have another disease to battle
unable to schedule diagnostic sonohysterogram due to 12 weeks worth of unrelenting bloodloss
kaz's school made several commitments to us on friday after I raised hell - and still nothing
behind on billpaying, even though I have the money, because the paperwork is so screwed up
no groceries in house, no supplies cause I barely have time to move, never mind shop
skin cancer spot on nose, or else I am growing an ugly spot
new car is still not working right
bloglines messed up, can't pick up feeds
feedburner messed up, can't figure out feeds
blogger messed up, keeps barring comments
ISP messed up, unable to get me on the net
gmail/blackberry both messed up, unable to send/receive messages
and last but not least
husband's long-standing, inactive auto-immune disease is active again - the one I can't discuss here, that scares the fuck outa me

enough people just enough

irritation

I am so crabby and irritated right now, you could likely do a study on me as an example of "what happens when you don't have enough hormones."

There are so many good things in my life but when I feel like this, I cannot see it.

I really sincerely utterly can't stand anyone. Everything everyone does is wrong and stupid and annoying and driving me crazy.

So until my doc calls me back and helps me fix my HRT and deal with these fibroids, I'm just laying low.

I've had a bunch of your tabs open for awhile and I intended on commenting, but that may not be such a great friggin idea. I keep waiting to be in a better mood, but I'm NEVER in a better mood. It's taking all my strength just to write something decent when I do comment.

And the stupid Doc is not calling me back. And everything I find online is depressing. I desperately do not want to lose any body parts, like my uterus, and the best treatments seem to be still under research, and I do NOT want to use drugs to put me in menopause because that is worse than anything.

I'm going to be in a good mood for my kids if it effin kills me, but I don't have anything left over for anyone else. Sorry.

Resolution update

So my diet/not really diet/healthful eating thing is going well. I've lost a few pounds, and my fancy new scale says that my bodyfat is going down and my water percentage is the same, so it isn't water I'm losing.

I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.

I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)

So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.

I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.

But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.

Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....

But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.

I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?

I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.

This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.

But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?

Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?

As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.

Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.

I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.

So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?

Resolutions for a New Year

My last couple of posts have been depressing, so I think I need to be a bit cheerier, or at least make some effort.

I have decided to go to BlogHer in July in Chicago. I really want to meet all of you, or at least hang around on your cool kid coat tails. (I'll be the nerd who doesn't want anyone to know the her real identity, or the nerd who tells strangers she has a political blog in her name as a secret cover, but only tells the infertiles about her secret undercover identity as Aurelia. And if you understood that, you deserve a medal for grammer and comprehension. )

Yes, our house is falling apart, and although my husband freaks if I even mention the reno, I need to call the architect and get it going again. Mr.Cotta and I can afford the reno, and desperately need to reno, either big or small, but he has been freaked out by the economy and insists that we should wait until we have all the money in hand before we do it. Well, that will take a couple of years, and the house is now trying to tell us what the engineer already did. Either we spend serious cash repairing some things like roof and foundation this spring, or we reno. This year. No waiting allowed. Period. So I am calling the architect and asking him to just speak to me and he and I will do several plans up and work again, and then we'll see what we will see. I figure as long as he and I keep it away from the husband, he can live comfortably in denial and when and if he faces facts, I'll have a complete set of plans for him to look at. I'm not going to lie to him, I'll tell him I'm calling the architect, but it will be one of those things we never ever talk about, unless he asks and assures me he will be calm and reasoned about it.

Weight/Exercise: Never ever in my life have I had to diet after a baby. Breastfeeding is usually like liposuction for me. Not this time....I guess multiple pregnancies kind of do that. In August, I was 151 pounds. Bloody enormous for me since I am very short and small-boned. My usual weight is anywhere from 110-115, not muscled, and with muscle, should be about 120-125. With some diligence, mostly involving only taking a few cookies instead of a box, or one steak instead of two, or only having a few glasses of wine instead of 3 or 4, I had dropped to 138 recently. Some clothes fit better, and I felt better. Then I was out shopping for my christmas gift, (a fabulous new purse, a really really nice one, instead of the crummy mummy ones I've carried for years), and feeling awesome and beautiful and happy, and I saw a political friend who did not know about Julius. Big greetings! We chatted about politics, and he then he gestured towards my stomach and said, "So, you are expecting another addition to the family?" My heart sank as I realized that he thought I was obviously pregnant, when dammit, I ALREADY HAD the baby. I sort of ignored his question by just telling him about Julius and how great it was, blah blah, cause he is nice and he just made a mistake. And no, he shouldn't have asked that question of any woman, but still, he really did think that, which tells me that I have more weight to lose.

So as of Monday when the kids are back in school, no more cookies, no more treats, no more wine, AT ALL, and no more screwing around. At least until I get to a goal weight. Then I can have some treats again. Small portions, good food, and I really need to get my ass in gear. My abs are recovered, and I need to get some muscle going and some weight bearing exercise if I don't want to break a hip. I already have osteoporosis, so that's risk enough. I take lots of D and calcium, and I am back on HRT, but oh boy, I need to get my body back in shape. I'm 40, time to grow up.

Skin care - I'm going to see a dermatologist and maybe a plastic surgeon. I've been dicking around for years about all these freckles and sun spots and rough patches and pretending it didn't matter, and I'm young and who cares. But again, if I want to look good and not miss a case of skin cancer someday I need to pay attention. I spent lots of years burning and tanning as a child, and even though I reformed as a twenty year old, it's not enough. I already have this weird rough spot on my nose that I think is definitely not acne and needs attention. And yes, I will likely get some laser resurfacing and hair removal and scar removal and other things done that are purely cosmetic. I've always been a pretty good-looking woman and premature ovarian failure, plus age has really screwed with my skin and hair and nails. If I let it go, I'm going to look 50 or 60, not 40. Screw that. Looking my age, fine, looking twenty years older? Not on the table.

My eyesight: More lasers, this time for laser eye surgery. I'm bloody legally blind people. This sucks. I want to be able to see without contacts. I can live with occasional use of reading glasses, but not this. I looked into it before, but I was told that doing it immediately post-baby is a bad idea. Well, seven months later is fine. Time to get them done.

My non-existent career, job, education prospects: I need to finally apply to go back to school and get a second degree or another different degree. I should likely get some LD testing to help with this application process, I guess. It might explain to universities, why I have such an uneven resume and transcripts. I want to, and we can afford it, and it will make me happy. I could get another boring old job job, but I hated that, so why would I bother? I want to make some money doing something I love, not something I tolerate.

Letting go: I stupidly looked at the facebook group for my old high school and university. Now, THAT was depressing people. The kids who were bullies then are still bullies and still nasty and stupid and ignorant. Only this time, they run the alumni association. I met one a few years back in my neighbourhood, and even though she had been a bitch to me years ago, I smiled nicely. Well, she looked at me like I was a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. I think that maybe it's time to just walk away and never think about the cruddy awful people from my past again. Why am I wasting my energy on them? Bleccchhh.

Will it all work out? Who knows? Will I do any of this? Who knows?

Stay tuned and see what happens next!