One of my favorite comfort foods. When I was single and had a down day nothing would cheer me up like a couple of waffles with butter spread evenly in each square melted and then covered in syrup. Ok, a bit obsessive but it works for me. Yummy....
But I'm not meaning those kind of waffles as much as I love them. Here it is, I am waffling. Waffling about the decision whether we will ttc again or not. I know, I know, I know and I can't believe I am saying this but I'm not sure what we are going to do.
What has brought this on is yet another "date specific" event. This week last year was when my hcg levels went up for the second week in a row. This Friday last year was when I had an ultrasound of nothing but pretty colors. Do you remember the bad "you look like you are under a severe storm warning" comment from my sweet husband? A year ago things were spiraling out of a control for me at a rapid pace. This year, obviously a sense of normalcy has returned. The new status quo, or so I thought. With this new anniversary passing me, it means another big date is looming, that's right the ban on ttc will be listed. Only two short months from now. Both my endocrinologist and my ob/gyn have said in the past that I could think of ttc six months post RAI. The nuclear medicine tech told me a year. I have two big appointments coming up, my follow up with my endo and then my one year WOOHOOO appointment with my ob/gyn.
Naturally my brain is spinning. If they were to tell me six months would be ok post RAI this could change things. Not sure why six months is such a big deal, but the difference from April to October seems huge at this point. Probably much like in retrospect these past ten months have both flown and moved in microscopically slow fashion.
So here is my question. Not nearly as filled with angst as it once was, but one I visited countless times in the early days of my partial molar/gestational trophoblastic disease diagnosis. How do you know when you are done? How do you know when you are being selfish and following your own desires?
I adore Munch and Monkey, I love that they are so interactive with each other, that they are now toddlers and way more self-sufficient and spunky than I wish on most days. But every once in awhile the nagging "just one more" thought rears its ugly head and ties me up in knots all over again. Am I just missing the two that we have lost along our journey? I wish I could definitively make up my mind. Funny how a silly date can bring things back up to the forefront that were shuttered away.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
What I want to be when I grow up
A little warning in advance, I've had a day so this is going to be a little more serious than normal.
You'd think at 41, I would be there, wouldn't you? A grown up that is or at least know more about where I am going. I've matured late. I'll admit it. I have been late for everything, birth, marriage, stability, babies...you get the idea.
Today I had my year end review and had to attend a funeral. Quite a lovely combination for one day, don't you think?
The funeral was for a close family friend. She was our music pastor's wife, her oldest daughter is a friend of mine. She was Lewie's first non-relative care giver. She was the first one to talk openly with me about her personal history with miscarriage. She was more of a prayer warrior for me than what I ever could have imagined. I adored her and I love her family. She was only 11 years older than I am, which I did not know until recently. She loved my children. Of course, how could you not, if you knew them? I'm kidding on that one. I think they are pretty great though and so did Patty.
Her daughter wrote the coolest thing on facebook about her. We had a total of four, yes four, pastors get up and speak. So much about her I didn't know and so much that I would like to emulate in my own way. People loved her, loved her laugh, loved her support of her husband. Being the spouse of a pastor/minister of any variety is surely not an easy task. She was spoken of in love and respect.
That is what I want. No matter how imperfect I am, because lets face it I am so incredibly flawed it's not funny. Despite my flaws, I want that in my life. I want to leave a lasting impact on my family, on my children and on my friends. I want to be loved and respected. Someone you look to when you need an ear, or someone who will pray for you. Someone who will love on you whether you want to be loved on or not. Someone who will put me aside and think of others more than myself. To sacrifice for someone other than me.
I suppose what this boils down to is that I want to be a better friend, become more selfless. I want to leave an impact. Not because I was goofy. Not because I occasionally might be funny. I want to leave an impact because I loved without fear, and because I cared.
It's a pretty tall order. But if I can swing even half of that I would be quite pleased.
You'd think at 41, I would be there, wouldn't you? A grown up that is or at least know more about where I am going. I've matured late. I'll admit it. I have been late for everything, birth, marriage, stability, babies...you get the idea.
Today I had my year end review and had to attend a funeral. Quite a lovely combination for one day, don't you think?
The funeral was for a close family friend. She was our music pastor's wife, her oldest daughter is a friend of mine. She was Lewie's first non-relative care giver. She was the first one to talk openly with me about her personal history with miscarriage. She was more of a prayer warrior for me than what I ever could have imagined. I adored her and I love her family. She was only 11 years older than I am, which I did not know until recently. She loved my children. Of course, how could you not, if you knew them? I'm kidding on that one. I think they are pretty great though and so did Patty.
Her daughter wrote the coolest thing on facebook about her. We had a total of four, yes four, pastors get up and speak. So much about her I didn't know and so much that I would like to emulate in my own way. People loved her, loved her laugh, loved her support of her husband. Being the spouse of a pastor/minister of any variety is surely not an easy task. She was spoken of in love and respect.
That is what I want. No matter how imperfect I am, because lets face it I am so incredibly flawed it's not funny. Despite my flaws, I want that in my life. I want to leave a lasting impact on my family, on my children and on my friends. I want to be loved and respected. Someone you look to when you need an ear, or someone who will pray for you. Someone who will love on you whether you want to be loved on or not. Someone who will put me aside and think of others more than myself. To sacrifice for someone other than me.
I suppose what this boils down to is that I want to be a better friend, become more selfless. I want to leave an impact. Not because I was goofy. Not because I occasionally might be funny. I want to leave an impact because I loved without fear, and because I cared.
It's a pretty tall order. But if I can swing even half of that I would be quite pleased.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Freedom
Not quite sure where this is going to go tonight. So many things inspired this that my thoughts may all come spewing out and this may be coherent only to me.
The title ties in later, but it also has to do with this song that has been running through my head non-stop all day. Before I started my day this morning I happened across an interview with George Michael. Like most girls of my growing up years I thought he was mighty pretty to behold. I loved Wham, and was even ahead of the curve enough to have a Wham UK cassette tape. I read the interview and he made a comment about the song Freedom and thus today's title and the song that WILL NOT LEAVE MY HEAD! Though Freedom 90 is still a favorite. Must be all the Pepsi Throwback I'm drinking, but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic music wise tonight apparently.
I saw a comment that got me a little fired about today, "Is it just me or do Mom's get much less freedom than dads." I have been thinking about that comment since I saw it. Add to that a rather nostalgic day in general and I'm all mushy.
When I am not at work I am with the munch and the monkey. I very rarely do anything that does not involve them. Why? Because I miss them and well, I feel like I don't get to spend nearly enough time with them. It is my choice to stay home and soak up the memories and the times good and bad and hair pulling out frustrating. I do go out from time to time on my own, for social stuff or time alone like getting my nails done or shopping. But the whole time I'm usually focused on getting back to two of my favorite people in the world.
My hockey geek on the other hand has a very active outside the home life (hockey, Bible Study, Lawn crew at church, volunteering...well you get the idea.). That's fine for him. He loves his time with our children but he can balance it better without the mom guilt.
In my case, I don't want freedom, I like being tethered. No matter how far away I get, they are my anchors. They bring me back home while keeping me just slightly above the ground. It is a choice that I have willingly made.
I was emailing the husband today at work while thinking about it because the comment in general was rather ironic considering the source. It's no secret I have a tremendous amount of "mommy guilt" because I do work outside the house. I am fortunate though to have a good job, and one I actually enjoy on most days but that still doesn't quiet the desire to be home.
I also got inspired by thinking about enjoying them while they are at this age. There was a rather touching blog post that got me thinking today as well.
How much time do I spend frustrated because toys are not getting picked up? How much time do I spend trying to figure out ways to deal with a two year old temper tantrum? How much time do I spend bemoaning the fact that I do work? How many times do I kick myself for not being the perfect mom who never loses her patience, and can handle any difficult situation with the right words and a smile? Quite a bit.
How much sweeter would my life being by cuddling my sweet son at night while his daddy is doing the night-night thing with his sister rather than wrapping things up for the night. How much brighter would my morning be by having quiet time with my spunky monkey while she is waking rather than finishing up the last of my running around before the mad dash to my parents and work. I need to focus on the many positives and let the rest handle themselves.
Munch and Monkey will not always be this small, this cuddly, this much in love with their mommy. I am trying to embrace it and treasure it and lock up these moments as best I can. I'm so far from being Donna Reed it's not funny, but I try, and honestly I don't think it matters to them. I just need to remind myself to slow down and take all of this in. Make extra time, even time that I had not thought about until now.
Freedom will come in time, probably way sooner than I would wish. I don't need freedom right now, I just want sloppy kisses, dirty faces and sweet little children that don't pick up toys. Late night arrivals into my bed from sleepy little red headed boys, even if he does elbow me in the eye, kick me in the stomach and take up way more room than ever believed possible for someone that size. I want the biggest neck hugs possible from the spunkiest little girl I know, I want to dance with her in the bathroom, I want to cook breakfast with her. I will never, ever look back on my life and say I wish I would have had more freedom, I wish I could have enjoyed myself more. But I can most assuredly tell you, I never want to look back on my life and wish I spent more time with my children or made more memories with them.
The title ties in later, but it also has to do with this song that has been running through my head non-stop all day. Before I started my day this morning I happened across an interview with George Michael. Like most girls of my growing up years I thought he was mighty pretty to behold. I loved Wham, and was even ahead of the curve enough to have a Wham UK cassette tape. I read the interview and he made a comment about the song Freedom and thus today's title and the song that WILL NOT LEAVE MY HEAD! Though Freedom 90 is still a favorite. Must be all the Pepsi Throwback I'm drinking, but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic music wise tonight apparently.
I saw a comment that got me a little fired about today, "Is it just me or do Mom's get much less freedom than dads." I have been thinking about that comment since I saw it. Add to that a rather nostalgic day in general and I'm all mushy.
When I am not at work I am with the munch and the monkey. I very rarely do anything that does not involve them. Why? Because I miss them and well, I feel like I don't get to spend nearly enough time with them. It is my choice to stay home and soak up the memories and the times good and bad and hair pulling out frustrating. I do go out from time to time on my own, for social stuff or time alone like getting my nails done or shopping. But the whole time I'm usually focused on getting back to two of my favorite people in the world.
My hockey geek on the other hand has a very active outside the home life (hockey, Bible Study, Lawn crew at church, volunteering...well you get the idea.). That's fine for him. He loves his time with our children but he can balance it better without the mom guilt.
In my case, I don't want freedom, I like being tethered. No matter how far away I get, they are my anchors. They bring me back home while keeping me just slightly above the ground. It is a choice that I have willingly made.
I was emailing the husband today at work while thinking about it because the comment in general was rather ironic considering the source. It's no secret I have a tremendous amount of "mommy guilt" because I do work outside the house. I am fortunate though to have a good job, and one I actually enjoy on most days but that still doesn't quiet the desire to be home.
I also got inspired by thinking about enjoying them while they are at this age. There was a rather touching blog post that got me thinking today as well.
How much time do I spend frustrated because toys are not getting picked up? How much time do I spend trying to figure out ways to deal with a two year old temper tantrum? How much time do I spend bemoaning the fact that I do work? How many times do I kick myself for not being the perfect mom who never loses her patience, and can handle any difficult situation with the right words and a smile? Quite a bit.
How much sweeter would my life being by cuddling my sweet son at night while his daddy is doing the night-night thing with his sister rather than wrapping things up for the night. How much brighter would my morning be by having quiet time with my spunky monkey while she is waking rather than finishing up the last of my running around before the mad dash to my parents and work. I need to focus on the many positives and let the rest handle themselves.
Munch and Monkey will not always be this small, this cuddly, this much in love with their mommy. I am trying to embrace it and treasure it and lock up these moments as best I can. I'm so far from being Donna Reed it's not funny, but I try, and honestly I don't think it matters to them. I just need to remind myself to slow down and take all of this in. Make extra time, even time that I had not thought about until now.
Freedom will come in time, probably way sooner than I would wish. I don't need freedom right now, I just want sloppy kisses, dirty faces and sweet little children that don't pick up toys. Late night arrivals into my bed from sleepy little red headed boys, even if he does elbow me in the eye, kick me in the stomach and take up way more room than ever believed possible for someone that size. I want the biggest neck hugs possible from the spunkiest little girl I know, I want to dance with her in the bathroom, I want to cook breakfast with her. I will never, ever look back on my life and say I wish I would have had more freedom, I wish I could have enjoyed myself more. But I can most assuredly tell you, I never want to look back on my life and wish I spent more time with my children or made more memories with them.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - 2009 Edition
I know this is very much delayed. I just have not had much to say and not sure where to go with this. The long and the short of it is that 2009 has been a year like no other for me. It's mostly been a year of yuck. But it's in the past now right?
The good of this year, I have a husband that still thinks I'm ok. Despite the fact that I've been a raging cow for most of this year. He has stood by me no matter what. My munch and my monkey, I can't say this enough they are my world. Even when things were at their yuckiest, they could make me smile. I am so fortunate to have them, and I am so grateful for them. More good it seems like the partial molar/gestational trophoblastic disease is in the past. Can I just say three more months of blood draws left? Pardon me, while I do a little celebratory dance. And maybe just maybe, I've got the whole thyroid cancer thing taken care of. Harvey potentially is now in my imagination or in my memories only. More dancing.
The bad was mainly the realization that we are done with our TTC journey, whether I want to be or not. I'll be honest this is still a struggle, but I still have not changed my mind. I'm sure this seems odd to most that I would list this as a bad but in my head it was, if for no other reason it wasn't the way that I had planned it.
The ugly...I won't belabor the point. That a "simple miscarriage" turned into a partial molar pregnancy and gestational trophoblastic disease that required four rounds of chemo, not to mention countless blood draws that are still happening monthly almost thirteen months after the fact. Even "baby chemo" was ugly. Not sure that I ever shared this, but this is a picture of me during my last treatment. You probably can't even tell that's what is going. This was the treatment room that I talked about on several instances. This was my ugliest point of all in 2009, not from a vanity perspective, but the whole emotional aspect behind it.
The ongoing thyroid battles and my impatience with my doctor. The fact that I presumed to know more than she did. That I questioned her so easily. The full blown radioactive Iodine Treatment was pretty awful as well. Not sure why I was so anxious to do that and I hope to never have to do that again.
My attitude was pretty ugly most of the year also. It's a good thing I didn't really say half the things I thought. I was whiny, I was definitely melodramatic, I was jealous, I was envious. I used vulgarities. You know all the things that nice girls "don't do". I was pretty negative for a large portion of the year and it took it's toll on so many things.
So what are my goals this year? I'm not one for resolutions because I never follow through, that being said I do have every intention to be more positive this year. I had toyed with the idea of starting a blog and every day coming up with one thing positive to say about my life/circumstances/the world around me. But here it is six days into the new year and I have already started slacking. I do realize there are going to be times when life is just stinky, and I have to deal with that. Surely, I can do it with a smile.
I have learned I am very fortunate in how things have turned out, despite all of my grumpings. Things can always be worse.
I also am thinking about getting a tattoo this year. It started as a joke with my Sunday School teacher, but it kind of stuck with me. The radioactive symbol. Just as a reminder of where I have been. I think a nice hot pink one would be lovely, don't you?
The good of this year, I have a husband that still thinks I'm ok. Despite the fact that I've been a raging cow for most of this year. He has stood by me no matter what. My munch and my monkey, I can't say this enough they are my world. Even when things were at their yuckiest, they could make me smile. I am so fortunate to have them, and I am so grateful for them. More good it seems like the partial molar/gestational trophoblastic disease is in the past. Can I just say three more months of blood draws left? Pardon me, while I do a little celebratory dance. And maybe just maybe, I've got the whole thyroid cancer thing taken care of. Harvey potentially is now in my imagination or in my memories only. More dancing.
The bad was mainly the realization that we are done with our TTC journey, whether I want to be or not. I'll be honest this is still a struggle, but I still have not changed my mind. I'm sure this seems odd to most that I would list this as a bad but in my head it was, if for no other reason it wasn't the way that I had planned it.
The ugly...I won't belabor the point. That a "simple miscarriage" turned into a partial molar pregnancy and gestational trophoblastic disease that required four rounds of chemo, not to mention countless blood draws that are still happening monthly almost thirteen months after the fact. Even "baby chemo" was ugly. Not sure that I ever shared this, but this is a picture of me during my last treatment. You probably can't even tell that's what is going. This was the treatment room that I talked about on several instances. This was my ugliest point of all in 2009, not from a vanity perspective, but the whole emotional aspect behind it.
The ongoing thyroid battles and my impatience with my doctor. The fact that I presumed to know more than she did. That I questioned her so easily. The full blown radioactive Iodine Treatment was pretty awful as well. Not sure why I was so anxious to do that and I hope to never have to do that again.
My attitude was pretty ugly most of the year also. It's a good thing I didn't really say half the things I thought. I was whiny, I was definitely melodramatic, I was jealous, I was envious. I used vulgarities. You know all the things that nice girls "don't do". I was pretty negative for a large portion of the year and it took it's toll on so many things.
So what are my goals this year? I'm not one for resolutions because I never follow through, that being said I do have every intention to be more positive this year. I had toyed with the idea of starting a blog and every day coming up with one thing positive to say about my life/circumstances/the world around me. But here it is six days into the new year and I have already started slacking. I do realize there are going to be times when life is just stinky, and I have to deal with that. Surely, I can do it with a smile.
I have learned I am very fortunate in how things have turned out, despite all of my grumpings. Things can always be worse.
I also am thinking about getting a tattoo this year. It started as a joke with my Sunday School teacher, but it kind of stuck with me. The radioactive symbol. Just as a reminder of where I have been. I think a nice hot pink one would be lovely, don't you?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas from Bikini Bottom
Have you figured out I'm a bit of a nerd? I've outed myself on several ocassions. This maybe just about the nerdiest thing I have done yet. Bigger even than being all geeked out over going to wrestling and getting on camera several times.
My older sister started a tradition that I borrowed. Every year on Christmas Eve my neice and nephew got a new pair of jammies. I thought that was a cute idea, with her permission I borrowed it.
I started it last year found complimentary jammies for the Munch and the Monkey. Even Mommy got jammies, that was sort of a much needed pick me up from the post miscarriage depths. But admittedly little thought went into it.
So this year, with more of my faculties about me, I decided to put effort into it. Let me say this, I have never been a matchy, matchy person. I promised my husband we'd never be that family, the ones all in the same shirt on family outings. I have to fight him to get coordinating for pictures, that's a different story though.
As you may recall the Munch has a love for all things SpongeBob. I probably haven't mentioned this but he's a bit resistant to change. New clothes anything new usually results in a full scale battle royal to get him to wear, or try. So we have to try the path of least resistance stick with what we know he likes. Imagine my mommy glee when I found a pair of boy flannel pajamas with SpongeBob in a Santa hat. Then what did I see next? You guessed it the female version. Santa Spongebob, in a more girly flannel version. It was meant to be, coordinating jammies and they had their size.
If that's not bad enough, I found Santa SpongeBob boxers and sleep pants for my dear husband, who also happens to love all things SpongeBob and in his size. Kismet I tell you. Can you guess what's next? That's right, I found SpongeBob jammies for me, minus the santa hat. Thereby not risking my oath to my husband. Each set is sommewhat different, though there are similarities.
There you have it, my lovely family instead of being all dolled up in more appropriate Christmas attire, has been SpongeBobbed out. I'm sure Munch and Monkey will look back on the pictures from Christmas this year and then promptly put me away somewhere, or stop speaking to me.
From our house to yours, I am wishing and praying for you all a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. Praying that all of your Christmas wishes will come true.
My older sister started a tradition that I borrowed. Every year on Christmas Eve my neice and nephew got a new pair of jammies. I thought that was a cute idea, with her permission I borrowed it.
I started it last year found complimentary jammies for the Munch and the Monkey. Even Mommy got jammies, that was sort of a much needed pick me up from the post miscarriage depths. But admittedly little thought went into it.
So this year, with more of my faculties about me, I decided to put effort into it. Let me say this, I have never been a matchy, matchy person. I promised my husband we'd never be that family, the ones all in the same shirt on family outings. I have to fight him to get coordinating for pictures, that's a different story though.
As you may recall the Munch has a love for all things SpongeBob. I probably haven't mentioned this but he's a bit resistant to change. New clothes anything new usually results in a full scale battle royal to get him to wear, or try. So we have to try the path of least resistance stick with what we know he likes. Imagine my mommy glee when I found a pair of boy flannel pajamas with SpongeBob in a Santa hat. Then what did I see next? You guessed it the female version. Santa Spongebob, in a more girly flannel version. It was meant to be, coordinating jammies and they had their size.
If that's not bad enough, I found Santa SpongeBob boxers and sleep pants for my dear husband, who also happens to love all things SpongeBob and in his size. Kismet I tell you. Can you guess what's next? That's right, I found SpongeBob jammies for me, minus the santa hat. Thereby not risking my oath to my husband. Each set is sommewhat different, though there are similarities.
There you have it, my lovely family instead of being all dolled up in more appropriate Christmas attire, has been SpongeBobbed out. I'm sure Munch and Monkey will look back on the pictures from Christmas this year and then promptly put me away somewhere, or stop speaking to me.
From our house to yours, I am wishing and praying for you all a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. Praying that all of your Christmas wishes will come true.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Realization
I was going to go a different way with this post today. It is after all a significant date in my world. The one year anniversary of my d&c stemming from my miscarriage/pmp. The thing that created a tremendous downward spiral in my life and certainly made me question many things in my world and in my faith.
I have no intention of going maudlin, I've done that way too often. My original intent was to share lyrics that have given me comfort and hope. That somehow have made me think of my angel(s) who are not here. It's a song I have been singing to them and to my sweet munch and monkey.
But today as I was remembering where I was at this point in time last year. As I was allowing myself to grieve the loss. I had a sense of peace. I can't explain it, I won't even try. While I won't pretend I'm not sad a thought occurred to me. Something I never thought I would be able to say. It's not earth shattering, it's quite obvious really, but there is a difference between having someone else tell me this truth and finally coming up on the heart realization.
Things don't always go the way that I want them to go, or dream, or hope, or pray that they will go. But ultimately, maybe just maybe, things work out in the long run.
I have no intention of going maudlin, I've done that way too often. My original intent was to share lyrics that have given me comfort and hope. That somehow have made me think of my angel(s) who are not here. It's a song I have been singing to them and to my sweet munch and monkey.
But today as I was remembering where I was at this point in time last year. As I was allowing myself to grieve the loss. I had a sense of peace. I can't explain it, I won't even try. While I won't pretend I'm not sad a thought occurred to me. Something I never thought I would be able to say. It's not earth shattering, it's quite obvious really, but there is a difference between having someone else tell me this truth and finally coming up on the heart realization.
Things don't always go the way that I want them to go, or dream, or hope, or pray that they will go. But ultimately, maybe just maybe, things work out in the long run.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
The Monkey turns two
So it's been a bit of a whirlwind here. Between birthdays and holiday craziness. Today is no exception.
Two years ago today I received one of the best early Christmas presents ever. My Christmas Eve baby with a scheduled arrival date of December 14th decided that she had her own agenda and arrived three weeks early on December 6th. I ended up with pregnancy induced hypertension that instead of getting better with rest got worse and so it was decided she would come earlier than we scheduled.
I have to say one thing about this scenario have stayed the same over two years, Monkey has always had her own agenda and her own schedule. Very strong willed, very determined. But regardless is such a joy to us.
She was my first baby after a loss and I was so scared the entire time I was pregnant that something would happen to her and admittedly missed a lot of the joy of being pregnant. I was so glad when she arrived though because I could stop worrying and enjoy her on the outside. And enjoy her we do. She's got her daddy wrapped, and her big brother loves her too. As evidenced by my meet the monkey post, I'm pretty enthralled with her also.
Happy birthday Monkey!
Two years ago today I received one of the best early Christmas presents ever. My Christmas Eve baby with a scheduled arrival date of December 14th decided that she had her own agenda and arrived three weeks early on December 6th. I ended up with pregnancy induced hypertension that instead of getting better with rest got worse and so it was decided she would come earlier than we scheduled.
I have to say one thing about this scenario have stayed the same over two years, Monkey has always had her own agenda and her own schedule. Very strong willed, very determined. But regardless is such a joy to us.
She was my first baby after a loss and I was so scared the entire time I was pregnant that something would happen to her and admittedly missed a lot of the joy of being pregnant. I was so glad when she arrived though because I could stop worrying and enjoy her on the outside. And enjoy her we do. She's got her daddy wrapped, and her big brother loves her too. As evidenced by my meet the monkey post, I'm pretty enthralled with her also.
Happy birthday Monkey!
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