some body to love

I finished up a series of childbirth classes last night and on the way out one of my students asked me if I had ever used an after birth belly band to get my stomach flat again.  I said that no, I never have (partly because I have never had a very flat stomach to begin with, thanks short torso), but that she should let us know if she decides to try one.  I then quickly added, "Of course, your body may never be the same again after your first baby because your ribs and hips have probably widened."  I often speak before I think and didn't realize how utterly horrified that last sentence would make her.  "What?  I won't fit back into my clothes???"  "Maybe, you will.  And maybe you won't."  I whispered.  She is due on Saturday and that was just the last straw for her.  She just could not wrap her head around it and continued to rant and rave about the injustice of all the sacrifice for a few minutes.  I have been thinking a lot about this very topic for a few weeks as my body once again expands supernaturally to help grow a baby.  It seems to stretch even further every time.  Initially this is alarming and upsetting, especially because my actual weight was higher to begin with this time (five more pounds than when I delivered Ella) and I am almost to a significant large number that I have never had the pleasure of seeing on my scale before.  I was hoping to avoid it, but there is only five more pounds and more than four more months to go so the math isn't too difficult on that one.  I struggle with body image at the best of times, but I am trying to subdue the inner beast and just enjoy letting my tummy hang out for a few months.  I am also trying to put myself beyond self-reproach by eating healthily and going to the gym almost every day.  What more can I really do anyway?  In yoga class the teacher always asks us to set an intention for our practice so the last few times I have decided to set the intent of simply loving my body.  Being grateful for all that it can do.  Not saying mean things to it when I look in the mirror.  Not wishing it could be altogether different.  Not begrudging the discomforts I feel so keenly lately.  Not obsessing about how it will look for the few months after the baby comes.   Sometimes all of these things can be really, really difficult, but they can make all the difference in outlook.  Today in class she asked us to really think about how our bodies felt, "Observation without judgement."  Is that even possible?  I realized that I can be very hard on myself and in turn I think it makes me more judgmental of other people as well.  I see that one really does have to love oneself before truly being able to love others.  So with all of this tossing around my mind I turned to my student and gently reminded her that she was doing all this for her baby, that sometimes mommy bodies don't look the same as they used to, but we still need to love them and be so very grateful for how amazing they are.  A new human life!  What can be more incredible than taking part in that?  She still looked skeptical, but hopefully she will change her tune when she holds that baby in her arms for the first time.


Speaking of first babies, my oldest baby is turning 17 today.  I remember those first moments with her so clearly.  What a blessing she has always been for me.  Those initial days I would stare at her with so much love and think that someday, when she is 15 or so, she would hate me and wouldn't that be sad?  But she has never been like that and has been nothing but sweetness, along with her own unique dose of pragmatism that helps us all not get too dramatic about life.  Happy Birthday Eleanora!

trials -- not that I'm asking for some... (now where is that wood?)

I went to Time Out For Women to discover what I knew all along -- I am so blessed.  We heard from some very enlightened women who have been through a lot.  I don't think the intention was to exhibit them as people to be pitied, merely providing a place in which to share their combined experience and wisdom.  So we had heard from the woman who had had breast cancer, been RS president, whose husband had lost his job, etc. all in the same year; the woman who had had cancer on her eye and had to have the whole eye removed; and the woman from Sierra Leone -- no more explanation needed.  Then we were asked to write down our trials.  Did I hear that right?  I stared down at a blank page completely flummoxed.  Trials?  That's a negative.  I don't think I have any.  Let me deliberate on this a little more, there must be something.  We had to eat the same meal twice this month.  I didn't really like my last haircut very much.  I accidentally bought a gigantic pack of 1-ply toilet paper again. Oh, oh, I know!  My five beautiful children healthfully mess up my abundantly sized (by the world's standard) house practically every day and I have to use my fancy vacuum to dust off my shiny floors.  I also have to drive my well-running car with said children to all the activities that we are able to afford and make them practice the piano that we have in our nicely furnished living room.  On a regular basis I have to visit the sprawling grocery store and wade through heaps of fresh, delicious food and actually decide what we are going to have to consume every day.  On top of all that, I have to throw piles and piles of lovely clothing into a fairly recently purchased washing machine that sings a little melody at me when everything is sparkling clean.  And, and, and -- I had to spend the winter in the south of France of all places.  What a pain.  I don't know how I am possibly expected to endure all of this.

you give me fever

I think I mentioned that I was feeling restless and fluttery -- well, the feeling hasn't gone away and has actually somewhat intensified.  It feels as though I am almost, but not quite, to the cusp of the first steep hill of a roller coaster -- there is excitement for what one hopes to be thrilling and fun; there is the foreboding pit in stomach brought on by speed, the unknown path ahead, and the potential danger (how did I get talked into this?); and there is pent up energy knowing that release and liberation from anxiety lay just ahead.  It is a strange brew of happiness, trepidation, and gloom all mixed together so that none are separated and at any moment I could break out in laughter or tears.  Truly on the verge of hysteria.  I have no idea why I am feeling this way.  Is something hard about to happen?  Scary.  Is something amazing about to happen?  Exciting.  Am I losing my mind?  Quite possibly.  The last is most credible since I highly doubt I am so in harmony with the universe that my stomach is foreseeing the future.  A week ago I guessed that it could just be Spring and I have since become even more convinced that that must be exactly what it is.  It is so amazingly gorgeous around here!  I wish the blossoms weren't so fleeting and the heat last week hadn't burnt the daffodils before their time.  After my walk a few days ago I decided to read on the patio and came upon this description in A Separate Peace:

 "...there was a breath of widening life in the morning air -- something hard to describe -- an oxygen intoxicant, a shining northern paganism, some odor, some feeling so hopelessly promising that I would fall back in my bed on guard against it.  It was hard to remember in the heady and sensual clarity of these mornings;  I forgot whom I hated and who hated me.  I wanted to break out crying from stabs of hopeless joy, or intolerable promise, or because these mornings were too full of beauty for me, because I knew of too much hate to be contained in a world like this."

Big sigh.  Yes.  I hadn't been able to put my finger on it, and certainly hadn't been able to put it into words so beautifully, but it must be that oxygen intoxicant -- that rapturous blend of apricot blossoms, longer days, lilacs, warm breezes, and untapped potential.  I have self-diagnosed spring fever.  Now what to do?

One way in which I am channelling the pent-up energy is by trying to lose weight.  I know, the "D" word. I am so tired of worrying about it, but I not only hadn't lost baby weight before our adventure, I also weaned the two year old not so baby and probably ate a few more baguettes than what was expected or required and thus came back with a few extra pounds.  So I am determined to live a new life, be a new me.  I am doing yoga and walking for an hour almost every day, not eating sugar (any!) or flour, and resisting the urge to buy a bigger size as much as I would like to fit into the clothes that I wear.  I even went away for the weekend and was such a good dieter -- going so far as to abstain from the chocolate molten ice cream brownie thing -- dedication at its height!  I highly expected to see great results on the scale this morning only to discover that much to my dismay and chagrin I had regained two pounds!  My body doesn't seem to realize that I am on a tight schedule here and even two pounds lost a week isn't going to be fast enough.  Definitely a setback, but forging ahead and vowing to not eat cake tonight even though it is my bug's birthday -- he is 14 -- we sure do love him!

My Little Pretties

The other day I took a little quiz on facebook and then sent it to my oldest girl. One of the questions was: Do you have any pet peeves? I answered that I had too many to count. Ella answered, "My only pet peeve is people who have pet peeves ~~ stop complaining!" She is so right. I complain about way too many things. I have pet peeves about people using the same names for their kids as I do (just kidding ~~ I am totally over it Stacey ~~ it was just the shock of it all!), spelling errors in books, people who complain about how people do their callings at church (hey, would you like to do everything?), open cupboards, someone saying they will come work on my house, but then don't come, people I don't even know bossing me around by waving me through an intersection (no, you go, it's your turn, let's just follow the rules of the road, okay?), how most places only have diet drinks with caffeine in them ~~ hmm, maybe that is it. I can only think of one more and it needs some introduction. There seems to be road construction going on all over our town. I wondered how there could possibly be enough workers to be maintaining all of these construction sites, but have since decided that there is really only one crew who just wanders around closing random roads at any given time. So! Main Street has been scraped down before being repaved and I get to cross Main Street several times a day. It is 1 inch, maybe 2 inches, lower than the cross streets. Do you have the visual? My absolute most favorite thing is to be behind a huge SUV, the kind made for crazy off-road stunts, the gas-hogging, gotta have my truck, smoke-belching, beast and have it cross Main Street going 1.mile.per.hour. Oh my gracious! It is a little tiny bump people! I bet you could go 3 mph. That way we could all make it through before the light turns red again. There you have it. It's going to give me an ulcer.

Pet peeve is such an interesting notion. The idea that you are taking your irritations and treating them like a little pet. Picking them up to stroke, coddle, and coo in their ears, "There, there, my pretty. I will feed you and nurture you so that you can grow from a mere annoyance and nuisance into full-fledged torment." Ooh, horrible. I need to take my daughter's advice to stop complaining and just relax. Yeah right, it's probably not going to happen. It would be nice, though.

My Skinny on Skin

This evening Dad and big boy went to help someone move (I know, on Monday ~ sinful) so I took the rest of us to the swimming pool.  It was so lovely there.  There were only two other families so we essentially had all that space to ourselves.   Baby soon found a fountain to capture his attention and was happy to stay put for the duration of our stay.  I sat right behind him and started to observe his skin.  Have you seen baby skin lately?  His is translucent with a back that is still like velvet.  I began to contemplate about how all skin is pretty amazing.  I saw his skin mottle as it regulated his temperature and when he splashed he was covered with hundreds of tiny beads.  Upon landing, the drops stayed there on his water repellent shoulders instead of soaking in.  How wonderful that we don't get all soggy when we swim and bathe.  Another thing I have often marveled over with the children is that their owies never stay for long ~ our skin gets right to work healing and repairing itself.  And aren't we glad that it grows with us as we get bigger?  But even nicer if it would hold in the extra weight!  It is astounding that something as insignificant as its color ~ which doesn't effect functionality as far as I know ~ has created such chaos in the world.  I remember my first childhood encounter with Native American history and slavery and being ashamed of my skin.  I am grateful for the things that I learned at home and church that taught me that everyone is the same inside.  It never occurred to me to not like someone because of their skin.  I must admit, however, that I am sometimes culturally prejudiced.  Just tonight I ran into some very interesting people at the grocery store.  They weren't a different race than me, but I am fairly sure they were from a different PLANET.  I need to remember that they are children of God and that we are all just trying to do our best, living in our own skin.

Can't Complain

Over the weekend it was brought to my attention that I am a bit too critical.  About everything.  I really don't mean to be.  I am merely trying to help everyone around me reach their potential and be the very best they can be. ®  I took the kindly suggestion to heart and resolved that, 1.) if I really cannot handle if something is not done "just so," then I should do it myself, and 2.) if I really need someone else to do it for me, or if it is someone else' job, I need to not complain about the way it is done.  Easy enough.  Sunday morning, oldest girl was very punctilious and was ready for church before everyone.  I asked her if she would please dress the baby.  She returns with him in a onesie and some overalls.  Not my first choice (or second, or third...), he has loads of lovely digs.  So I purse my lips a little and then say, "Sweetie, he really needs to wear an actual shirt to church."  "But mom," she replies, "the green on the undershirt matches the surfboard on the overalls."  Back and forth and I am in the middle of an argument AND I was found complaining.  I ask someone (I won't say who) to put a little fence around the garden and when I walk by I notice that all of the poor delphiniums are being squashed ~ tragic!  I ask my son to put away his clothes and then when he needs help finding something in his closet, I discover a wet towel and dirty clothing crammed onto the shelf with the clean sheets ~ disgraceful!  Over the next few days I have found that at times I have difficulty going longer than two minutes without some nitpicking remark coming out of my mouth!  What is a girl to do?  And why can't anyone do anything right?!?  (Oh, that came out wrong, did that sound a little disparaging?)

Sorry!

I have a confession to make:  I have a problem --- a subscription addiction.  I like to subscribe to magazines.  I  have willpower when the cost is exorbitant, but when I start getting offers for $20 for two years or even $7 for one, well then, I think, I can certainly splurge a little bit and spend seven measly dollars!  I love when a new issue arrives in the mailbox.  The cover is shiny and the binding smooth.  The front picture is always an enticing picture of what the coming months will bring -- September and October with pumpkins and gourds; November bedecked with Christmas trees and garlands; December and January full of organizational tips and helps for fulfilling resolutions;  February and March bring hope of Spring....  aaah.  I love to wait for a quiet moment to curl up in a chair and wade leisurely through the pages.  Slowly and carefully I read each sentence then close my eyes and think of how I could translate it to my house.  Often, I excitedly pull out a page or two thinking how fun it would be to make flower arrangements with the girls or make a yummy dessert with Charles.  Somewhere along the way, however, my problem has turned into a PROBLEM and I have piles of magazines everywhere!    Literally years worth.  I do not have time to curl up in said chair and I certainly do not have time to do anything slowly and carefully.  No sooner do I bring a fresh magazine up to my bedroom then the baby has viciously torn the lovely cover in two and then without a pause he heartlessly turns to the back as well.  Who wants to read a limp, old, crumply mess anyway?  So in an effort to stem the clutter and stop the tide of mail, catch up on the piles I already have and turn my attention to more important things, I, with extreme self-control and utmost effort, have refused the renewal notices coldheartedly.  I turn my back on them and say, "No!"  Last year, I stopped my subscription to House and Garden and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Home and it has gone out of business.   I stopped my subscription to Country Home and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Cottage Living, a publication full of great ideas for my lovely, old house, and it has gone out of business.  I stopped my subscription to Domino, a wonderful new magazine that I really enjoyed,  and --  it has gone out of business!  I just wanted to take a break, regroup, and so forth.  I was considering subscribing again at a later date.  I thought it was fine for other people to be reading them while I wasn't.  I felt secure knowing they were in the world somewhere if I needed them.   I had no idea the impact my decisions had on the world, but it looks as if I have single-handedly toppled the magazine industry!  And I feel kind of bad about it.

Compare and Contrast

I have a neighbor who has got it all going on. She has been PTO president, helps with EVERYTHING, thin, always dressed nice, always on time, never a hair out of place, you get the idea. Inevitably, whenever I am in her presence, I do something stupid. This morning I was feeling really good about myself. I got dressed (!) -- and put on some cute new wide leg capris with some cool striped knee socks, was even wearing makeup, made beds, cleaned up breakfast, got the kids out on time, stopped at the store to get treats for Lulu's class (Happy Birthday sweetie!), pulled up to the school, but then there is a bus still there so I have to go around the other side and then SHE drives up and my car is facing the wrong direction, my daughter runs out in front of her car, the baby has snot running down his face, and I look down and my socks are now pooled around my ankles. Suddenly I am all wrong. If the kids have strewn garbage across the lawn, or their knees are bleeding, or I back into one of my bushes, or the baby is being held upside down by the toes, sure enough I can look up to see her little frown smile staring back at me, mentally shaking her head. I am a confident, completely capable adult one minute and then the next -- doh. can. not. func. tion. don't. know. own. name. need. help.

There are other times I feel this way and it is often at church. The women there are not judgmental (usually :), but something happens to my brain when I enter that building. Before Sunday, a friend asked if we could meet after church to plan Activity Days for the next few months. I said sure and then the wind blew and it was gone. After the first hour I ran into her in the bathroom and she asked if I was coming to our meeting. I said sure, then thought how nice it would have been if I had brought lunch -- oh and something for the kids, too -- and the baby will probably be wanting a nap around then, why did I say yes to the meeting? Then the wind blew and it was gone. After church I start rounding up the kids and their coats and then I see her -- Oh! I am staying after. I cannot remember things for five stinking seconds! (Of course, this is the same Sunday I had my shirt on backward so maybe we can chalk it up to being a bad day -- but these are not isolated incidents). And other people are always prepared, have great ideas, are so talented... I am grateful for them. They pick up my slack.

I suppose I need to reconcile myself to the way I am, but where is the line between acceptance and using the negative as an impetus to do and be better? I don't know. It is a constant struggle and in the meantime I need to paste on that smile and wave to Miss Perfect over there -- "So glad you caught that -- have a wonderful day!"

Does This Calzone Make Me Look Fat?

Yesterday I decided to have the Weight Watchers brand frozen entree "Calzone Italiano" for lunch. I saw it at the store and thought, "Wow, that looks pretty good for 6 points. I will try it." I opened the box and noticed that it contained two calzones. Oh, good. I looked down at the instructions and here is what I read: "Remove one Calzone (one serving) and one sleeve from plastic wrapper. Return second Calzone to the freezer." (Bolds and italics snidely included).

Here is what I heard: "Listen, we know you have a weight problem or else you wouldn't have bought this delicious looking product. However, you cannot possibly imagine that both pieces of this cheesy goodness would be allowable within your alloted points. We know that you wouldn't have ended up in this situation if you possessed any semblance of self-control and/or the ability to read your body's cues, so here is what you need to do. You need to quickly wrap up the second calzone and pack it tightly back into the box. Now do this at once before you have inhaled it without realizing. Next, you need to run over to the refrigerator (the thing that got you into this mess), open the freezer door, launch the remaining calzone into any available spot (we know there probably isn't much room since you are more than likely hoarding chocolate in there), resecure the door, and back quietly away before you do any more damage."

What a bossy box! I don't know if I have ever before encountered a box with such explicit ideas about what I can and cannot do with my own food. How did it know if I was going to share it with someone (I was) or how did it know I wasn't going to throw caution to the wind and eat an entire 12 points in one sitting?

Later in the evening, Matthew came home and had heard that they were serving free pancakes at IHOP in honor of National Pancake Day. Who knew? So, of course, we all piled in the car and went. Forget that it was already past the girls bedtime, forget that the youngest three were already in pajamas, and forget that the two eldest had homework. It was fun, it was late, we all ate every last bite. We weren't hungry but it was free and it was there. Ah-ha, dear Watson! I believe we have discovered the root of our problem.

Gray skies are gonna clear up...

Growing up, whenever we would plaintively ask, "Do we have to?" my mom would always cheerily reply, "No, you get to!" Which, of course, meant that we had to. This morning I was thinking more about this and realized how thinking that way can really change one's attitude about virtually everything. Do I have to make dinner? Well, I have two capable hands, food in the pantry, a lovely (hungry) family, I don't have to work outside the home, I have a gas stove, pots and pans, exotic seasonings at my fingertips... so, no I don't have to, I get to! And suddenly it seems like quite a blessing indeed to be able to walk into the kitchen and make dinner. And I always have such difficulty trying to decide what to make -- well, there are certainly worse trials in life. We have so many choices! Another wonderful blessing. I have an embarrassing admission. I will say it quietly. Years ago I read the book Angela's Ashes. It is truly an amazing book if you haven't read it. At the time I had two small children and looking back I know I was very depressed. Everything was hard -- cooking dinner, keeping the house orderly, being kind -- you name it, impossible. So I was reading this book and the family is so poor. They have nothing. One set of clothes, the bare minimum to eat, no furniture and do you know what I thought? Oh, that sounds so nice and simple. That mom didn't have to clean anything -- because she didn't have anything! She didn't have to do laundry -- don't have to when you don't have clothes. She didn't have to cook dinner -- great, no food. Can you believe I had that thought? Terrible. Affluenza -- I obviously have too much when I envy people with nothing. (I think I think I don't have enough, though. Another embarrassing thing. Today I ate a potato chip that was on my kitchen floor. What was I thinking? That I couldn't get another one from the actual bag? And do chips eaten off the floor not have the same calories? I shouldn't have been eating chips at all let alone the detritus of my son's snack). So along with my new "Get To" attitude I have been trying a new smile therapy. I find that I frown too much and I would hate to get frowny wrinkles! So in the name of vanity and sanity I am trying to glow instead of glower, grin instead of looking grim. It is actually really amazing. I was driving along and yet another irritating driver crossed my path. Instead of my usual judgement of her poor choices I just smiled and soon I felt great. Just paste one on your face and within approximately 3 - 5 seconds your smirk will become a real smile. You should try it. I'll wait...


See? My seventh grade p.e. teacher tried to tell me with all of her peppy posters, but I just didn't believe it could be true.

Sing it out now -- So put on a HAP-PY face!

Lions, tigers, and bears...

I suppose that everyone has phobias of one kind or another. Some that are reasonable and healthy, and some slightly irrational. I have some fears that I don't even know are causing me stress until the danger is no longer there. For instance: When we lived in Japan there were always earthquake tremors and living as we did on the fifth floor, we would sway back and forth until it ended. I was also having dizzy spells at the time so I would have to look up and see whether the light fixtures were moving or if it was just me. Every morning when I woke up, I would wonder in the back of my mind if today would be the day for the "Big One." Almost subconsciously I would go through safety steps throughout the day, "Okay, in this subway station, where is the nearest escape," etc. I really wanted to have eye surgery because I didn't want to have my glasses smashed and be half blind. Although in retrospect did I really need to see to survive by drinking my own urine and witness the destruction all around me? (A guy in Taiwan really did sustain himself that way for two weeks and it haunts me). When we moved to New Hampshire it was like a weight I didn't even know I carried was gone! The relief was palpable as I realized how miniscule the likelihood of an earthquake was. It was something I knew I was thinking about, but didn't realize was causing me actual stress. The next one is: I suppose there is always the chance that I could be attacked at any given moment. I am completely unaware that I have this thought until winter strikes. Throughout this season I get in my car and think, "Good thing there isn't a maniac hiding in the back seat because it is much too cold." Or when I walk from my detached garage to my back door late at night I think, "What a relief that there is no one waiting to strike from the bushes because the temperature just isn't favorable for that kind of activity. You would have to be crazy to be doing that." As if a serial killer isn't crazy -- ha, ha, oh. I may just have to rethink my complacency here. This thought relates to all crime. I don't worry as much about someone trying to break in the house because they don't know how long it will take and it just isn't worth spending time outside. So yet another reason to be grateful for the cripplingly cold, mind-numbingly bitter, winter we are having. But, once again, normally I don't even realize that I am worried about this.

Right now it is 5˚, feels like -12˚ with the interminable wind. You know it has been a bad winter when... it is 17˚ and you think, "Hey, I don't need a coat, it is downright bearable out there."

Serenity now...

I received a new calling at church, but I get to keep my old one as well. I have to wonder, am I not projecting my stress well enough? I need to do better! My friend commented that I seem patient so I decided to respond here so that the other two people who read my blog can benefit from the exchange. I had to laugh because a few other people recently said similar things -- that I seem like a peaceful person, that I have it together, that they cannot imagine me yelling at my kids, etc. I have no idea how I exude this tranquil air, but I assure you it is false and misleading. And almost every little thing causes me anxiety. Take paper for instance. It seems innocuous enough -- thin, flimsy, perhaps a pretty color -- but when you have it floating in through the mailbox and waltzing merrily into the house via children's backpacks pretty soon you have piles and piles of paper overtaking every available surface and it becomes like the rope made up of lots of tiny strings, you could have broken one, but together they are too strong and it can strangle you! So I have an overabundance of paper and some of them require careful consideration, but my overtaxed brain cannot discriminate between what is important and what is not. The papers I like the least come from school. They are always filled to the brim with commands (it is REQUIRED that your child has an eye exam, a dental exam, 50,000 inoculations, but we will not do it here, we are giving you an errand, you need to look up the dentist's phone number, make an appointment, remember to write it down, remember to go, take their piece of paper, have the dentist sign it, return it to the school or else your child will not get their grades-- don't get me wrong, I do take my kids to the dentist, but on my own schedule and my own volition because I can be trusted to be their parent despite what the state of Illinois may think!) or entreaties (please, please, please purchase this for our fundraiser from a company that uses children to sell their overpriced rubbish so that your kids can have 5 % for their school) when all I really like to see coming home are their beautiful Thanksgiving vests made of brown construction paper. It is a small percentage I assure you. Okay, now I don't even remember what I was initially talking about. Oh, being calm. I guess I reserve my tirades for the privacy of my own home. I assume most people are like that so I am always taken aback when I see women completely losing it in more public settings. I just shake my head judgmentally (inside, of course -- I don't want them turning on me!) If they are acting like that in the grocery store where one might be more naturally reserved, what must they be like in private? Let's give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they either get really tense while shopping and are unusually stern or they are exhibitionists and save their performances for all of us. I digress yet again. Perhaps it is time to wrap this up and tie it with a little bow (to keep it tightly confined, don't untie it or it may burst all over you, like every time I open the cupboard and things slide out and something heavy hits my pinky toe just right).

Disengaged

Our internet modem went out sometime Tuesday night and I was completely unconnected to the outside world all day yesterday. I know! I actually survived, but it was strange to realize how dependent I am. I kept thinking of things I wanted to look up, or people I needed to e-mail and I couldn't. I did, however, get a lot of other things done. How strange is that? It has obviously been fixed now, thank goodness!

Also on Tuesday I went to download our pictures from Halloween and also take yet another adorable photo of my Phin doing something darling and my camera wouldn't turn on. Will the destruction and mayhem ever stop? I am tired of having to spend money on things I thought I already owned.