More proof

"Look! I can make my stomach stick out....JUST LIKE POPS!!"

And you think they don't remember you...

"Ha ha!  Owen you are so funny!"

"Yeah, I know...HEY!  You know what's really funny?"

"No, what?"

"That thing Pops wears on his face while he's sleeping.  HA HA HA HA!  Man, that is FUN-EE!"

Fingers crossed

CONGRATULATIONS to one of my best friends in the whole wide world, Sherri, who recently found out she is going to have another baby!  

This is thrilling for several reasons.  Firstly, it will be her 4th kid!  WooHoo!  I mean, WHAT is that girl thinking?  Somebody needs to sit her down and explain how these things happen.  Hmmm, probably shouldn't be me...  Secondly, Sherri has 3 boys.  Yes.  Three.  Boys.  Today, as Owen ran around the backyard enjoying 80 degree weather and stopping only to PEE ON THE BUSHES I had a mild panic attack that one day my tubal might fail me.  

So here's hoping this one's a GIRL!!  

Snuggle buddies

So one day I freaked out and was all "Beds, we need beds! Look at all these kids! We need more beds!" So Scott took me to the store and we bought beds. Bunk beds, trundle beds, crib beds, toddler beds, all sorts of beds. Then we came home with all the beds and I freaked out and was all "Where are we going to put all these beds? There is not enough space for all these beds!" And we arranged beds and rearranged beds. Hours were spent planning arrangements of beds and accompanying pieces of furniture and the giant mass of crap that exists in their rooms apart from the beds and the furniture. And DO THEY FIT LIKE THIS? And WHAT IF WE MOVED THEM OVER HERE? And WOULD IT MAKE THE ROOM LOOK TOTALLY CRAMPED IF WE PUT THEM LIKE THIS? And DO YOU THINK IF WE PUT ALL THESE BEDS IN THESE ROOMS THEY WILL HAVE ANY SENSE OF PERSONAL SPACE?

Eventually we just said to hell with it and we shoved the beds into the rooms and bought sheets and blankets and quilts for them all. We put them in their beds, tucked them in, and kissed them good night.

Now, remind me again what all those beds were for?

Parenting syles

"Did Ashlyn tell you some boy at school today called her fat?"

"Yeah, I told her he probably said it because he likes her or something. What did you tell her?"

"I told her he probably said it because he's a dumbass."

Happy Birthday Ashlyn!!

Another day, another birthday around here. I guess that's pretty much what happens when you have 47 kids.

Today Ashlyn turned 9 years old and to celebrate we went bowling at Thede Bowling Center on base. We took 5 other kids with us besides ours, bringing the grand total of kids to 9, meaning we had to drive both cars to get everyone there. There were 3 girls from Ashlyn's class, one little sister who was Haley's age, and one little brother that was Owen's age. See how nicely that worked out? And those of you who know me, who really know me, know I totally planned it that way. It was cosmic bowling, meaning they turned out the lights and everything glowed and they played music really loud, which was nice because I couldn't hear myself think, let alone hear the kids arguing about who was going to go first and who was winning and all that crap.

We don't usually do birthday parties around here, not because we're anti-social or anything, but I tried to do one when Ashlyn turned 2 in Alaska and I invited all the kids of all the people we knew and they all came and when we tried to sing Happy Birthday to Ashlyn she freaked out and climbed under the table and wouldn't come back out. So I didn't try again until she turned 6 and we had a bowling party in Rome while Scott was in Afghanistan. That one I blame on the fact that Scott was gone and I was trying entirely too hard to overcompensate, along with the one I had for Haley that same year, the one at the seafood restaurant where I brought in 20 pizzas, which I blame on the fact that the medication hadn't entirely kicked in yet. Other than that we just haven't had one really, I guess I just figure I can take the money I would spend on the party and buy alcohol presents with it and it all evens out and I don't have to clean my house or entertain a bunch of kids. And it's a lot quieter.

I took some pictures today, but they didn't really turn out. Most of them are blurry, and the ones that aren't blurry are just pictures of Skylar's hand, because every time I tried to take a picture she would reach and try to grab the camera. But it was fun times, especially when the little boy told us he needed to go to the bathroom because he had to pee so bad his eyes were watering. And Ashlyn got some nice gifts, and she even got this, because obviously that mother HATES ME, and wants me to suffer some kind of awful, prolonged painful death.

So we're home now, after 3 hours of bowling fun, and I'm pooped. Maybe it's because there were so many kids, or maybe it's because I had a long long week, or maybe it's just because I'm so freakin old. It's very very hard to sit and watch a bunch of kids bowl three games with bumper guards and never get a collective score of at least 175. And my feet hurt, and my back hurts, and my head hurts, but it's over. Everybody had a great time and everybody's face is permanently stained by the green icing on the cupcakes Ashlyn had to have.

Hmmm, I think I'm going to go soak my face in some tequila for a week while.

Here kitty kitty

Reason #56 why Scott hates the new kitten

So I'm thinking "because they left me at home with just that snobby white cat and I was bored" is not going to fly when Scott gets home.

Maybe he's outgrowing it

"Swiper always tries to swipe our stuff!  If you see Swiper, yell Swiper!"

"SWIPER!!"

"What?  Do you see Swiper the sneaky fox?"

"Yes, he's right there!!"

"Where?  Where do you see Swiper?"

"He's RIGHT BEHIND YOU Dora!  Why don't you see him?  Are you SOME KIND OF IDIOT?"  

The bully

There is a girl in Ashlyn's class and, well, she hasn't been in the class the whole year, she's just been in there since she was kicked out of one of the other third grade rooms, and she's bullying everybody.  Ashlyn told me she was 11, and though I've never personally seen her I've heard from other parents that she's only 9 or 10 but that she is freakishly tall.  Ashlyn's teacher told me that she "was not a positive addition" to their class.  Well, want to know how bad it is?

This girl has kicked people and been sent home.  She has hit people and been sent home.  She has thrown things at people.  There is a list of children that are going to be moved out of the classroom should any more incidents occur because there's no place else to put M******, and the kids are scared to death of her.  And she graded one of Ashlyn's papers (apparently the teacher "just cannot find the time" to grade her own papers so she has the kids grade each others) and she changed all the answers to make them wrong.  

Now that little incident led to my first talk with the teacher about M******, and how first of all I think kids grading each others papers is a violation of their privacy (yes, I'm that mother) and second of all she'd better change the grade since Ashlyn didn't miss anything.  So the grade was changed and the teacher told me she guessed she needed to keep a little closer eye on things, and she guessed it wasn't a good idea to let the kids grade the papers.  Well, I guess she's right, maybe because she's the one getting paid for it?  We could talk about why I feel this teacher is incompetent, but there are just too many reasons, the main ones being how she averages 2 absences a week (I'm not even exaggerating), how she never sends any papers home so you can see what's going on, how sometimes she gives the spelling words out on Monday, but sometimes she oops! forgets and doesn't send them until Wednesday, but still tests on Friday, how the class is behind the other classes in every subject, or how she doesn't get substitutes and sometimes the kids sit for 2 HOURS WITH NO TEACHER OR SUPERVISION until someone passes by and notices they are all alone, which is kind of the one I have the biggest problem with.  I've tried to give the lady the benefit of the doubt, but seriously there are several parents who are actively working to get their child moved to another class/teacher this late in the year.  If you want any more details I'll have to call you, because I could really just about write a book here, but anyway, back to this M******....

She has been ugly to Ashlyn on several occasions, from calling her names to telling her to "shut-up".  Let's face it, Ashlyn is kind of a target, because she is the best in her class (read: total big fat nerd) and everybody likes her and she's never in all her years of school pulled a stick or got a conduct mark.  When it first happened I told Ashlyn to buck up and get over it.  People are going to be mean to you, and that's because their lives suck, so don't take it to heart and move on.  So M****** persisted.  Then I told Ashlyn to walk away from her.  Don't go near her, don't go around her, just avoid her and if she tries to talk to you or call you names just walk away.  Well, M****** just followed her.  Next I told Ashlyn that if she did it again for her to say "Look, I'd really appreciate it if you'd just not talk to me.  If you can't be my friend and be nice, then I'd rather not be around you."  Well, yesterday M****** started in on Ashlyn again and Ashlyn gave her my politically correct line.  And M****** told her "Shut-up stupid!  I can talk to you however I want to talk to you!!  And you'll listen or I'll hit you!"  

Um, no no no no no.   

So I asked where the teacher was, and she was in small groups (I have no idea what that is) and she IS NOT TO BE BOTHERED when she is in small groups.  So I asked who was supervising the rest of the class while the teacher was not to be bothered and turns out no one was.  No one was watching the others to make sure they were enjoying a positive learning environment without being bullied around the classroom by M******, who apparently never gets any supervision because no one can control her.  

And well I called up to the school today, to set up a conference, and the teacher's conference time was at 9:40a and she was going to call me because "this is something I'm sure we can handle over the phone" (??) and now it's 12:15 and conference time is long over and she hasn't called.  So that's fine really, she doesn't have to call me, but her and everybody else up at that school better hope and pray M****** doesn't lay a finger on my kid or it'll take me about 2 seconds to be all over them like white on rice or stink on shit or however you want to put it.  'Cause then by God it's ON, and I've taken myself off the pills now and YOU DON'T WANT ANY OF ME.  

She shoots, she SCORES!!

This afternoon in her basketball game Ashlyn scored a basket!  It was the first basket of the game and after it went in she turned and looked right at me.  Her smile was as big as I've ever seen it and she jumped about 3 feet off the ground.  I will never forget the look on her face.  

And I know it was just one basket in just one 3rd grade basketball game in the YMCA's noncompetitive league, but right then, when I saw her realize it was going to go in?  One of my proudest moments, hands down.  

Dance Dance Revolution

The kids absolutely love Dance Dance Revolution. Of course their favorite song is YMCA, and they turn the surround sound ALL THE WAY UP because that drowns out the arguing and complaining coming from whichever one of them doesn't happen to be participating, since there are only 2 players at a time. I'm telling you, this game kills hours of time; it is so amazing at babysitting I think I might marry it.

















And it's really too bad that I was using my Rebel camera and not my Sony Cybershot because my Rebel doesn't do video like the Sony does and right after I took this picture Skylar did a headstand and then spun around like 7 times.

From last weekend

We ended up celebrating Skylar's birthday the weekend after the actual date, since she was so sick with the flu and we really wanted her to be able to enjoy it. We decided at the last minute to get a small cake from the commissary, and I really wanted her to have buttercream icing, because putting whipped icing on a birthday cake, or any cake for that matter, is one of the biggest injustices in the whole wide world. So, unfortunately, the only color icing they had that was buttercream was red. Please keep that in mind and know that no, she is not bleeding profusely from the mouth.

We put Skylar in the highchair and sat the cake in front of her. At first she was like Whatever, but then she took a tiny pinch of frosting and put it in her mouth. As soon as it hit her tongue her whole hand shot out and she grabbed as much as she could hold and shoved it into her face, all the while giving me a look that blatantly said My God woman have you been holding out on me! She demolished the cake, so much so that we didn't get any, but we had some ice cream and shared a little with her. And she loved the ice cream so much that now I cannot take her on the ice cream row at the store because she sees it in the freezer case and tries to fling her little body out of the buggy at it while howling like a banshee. We also cannot eat ice cream in her presence, because she cannot share, she wants it all, and she carries on so much that it ruins the whole ice cream experience for the rest of us.

Anyway, sorry that I didn't post any cake pictures earlier, but I totally forgot about it, and tonight when I was looking for a certain picture I saw them and thought some of you might have wanted to see one. I took this picture right as the sugar was hitting her blood stream, when she was so delirious with happiness she didn't know what to do other than throw her hands over her head and scream WOOHOO CAKE!

And then there were two

Last night before I went to bed Ashlyn came running up to me to tell me that her closet smelled awful.  I went in and checked and sure enough, Jet had peed in there.  I know it was Jet because the other two cats were in the room with us.  Then, this morning the girls got up to get ready for school and Haley picked up her shirt that she had laid out and it was covered in pee.  Plus there was more poop in the den floor.  

I called the vet and talked to them and they told me the cat had a behavior problem and it was only going to get worse.  They advised me to bring the cat back to them.  I tried to get the cat to sit with me on the couch so I could pet him a little and he tried to scratch my eyes out.  Then, when I tried to get him into the kennel he got me really good, and now I have scratches all up both of my arms (I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt).  So I took him back to the vet, and I felt so bad about it I almost cried.  And the lady at the vet told me not to worry about it at all, that they had had the same problems with the cat before they let me take him.

Um, what?

I guess I am just really upset that I was misled.  I mean, they told me he was the sweetest cat, with the best disposition, just a wonderful little lap cat.  Then, when I take him back they give me a laundry list of problems they had with him while he was living there.  It's all for the best that we took him back, and now I've spent the better part of the day trying to get the ammonia smell from the cat pee out of Ashlyn's closet and room and off the couch.  And oh my gosh it's bad.  Hmmm...maybe I'll get a new couch out of the deal! 

On a good note, Amber and I have been discussing my love of Carino's Romano Chicken and she was like "Well, why don't you make it?  Just put in some of this and that and this and blah blah blah..." so I found a jar of sun-dried tomatoes at WalMart and made it tonight and it tasted so much like Carino's I almost cried.  Seriously.  It was that good.  So the next time anybody comes to visit us I'll make you some.  Promise.   

Stupid by association

"Owen!  What in the world are you doing?  Why are you doing that?"

"I don't know."

"SCOTT!  What is wrong with your son?  Why is he doing that?"

"Well my God Jennifer, you've got him dressed in a Chad Johnson shirt.  He can't help but be a dumbass." 

Cat-astrophe

This cat, Jet?  He has decided to really step up operation TakeMeBackIDon'tWantToLiveWithYou and now he is NO LONGER POOPING IN THE LITTER BOX, which is the only place in this house designated for cat pooping.  He also refuses to keep his collar on, which is making me crazy, not because there is any real need for the cat to wear a collar, but because I decided to put one on him and by golly I AM IN CHARGE here and if I say to wear a collar, you wear a collar until I decide differently.  

Honestly, I'm getting over the collar part of this, since Jet has extremely long hair and you can't see the collar anyway.  Also, the collar has a bell because really, what self-respecting cat collar doesn't, and nighttime is the only time that cat does much of anything, and a bell, even a very small bell, can make a LOT of noise when you are trying to sleep.  So I'm okay with him not wearing the collar.  I guess.  

But now come on!  What in the world am I supposed to do about this pooping problem?  I'm not sure how you fix this.  The cat started off using the litter box and he must still be peeing in there because there's no pee anyplace else.  So maybe he's decided to use the litter box exclusively for peeing? I don't think I need to say this but I CANNOT HAVE CAT POOP ALL OVER MY HOUSE.  Now who out there knows what to do?     

The first defeat

Ashlyn's little basketball team lost for the first time this year on Saturday. I'm not sure of the score, because I lost track there at the end, but it was close, maybe 3 or 5 points. Ashlyn didn't seem to mind too badly, and I'm thankful for that. I'm also thankful I managed to make it through a loss without showing my butt, much like one of the mothers from the other team did.

Her daughter was the point guard for their team, and her husband was one of the coaches. The girl was on the smallish side, but she was a pretty good little ball handler as far as third graders go. See, our point guard, D****** is good, but she kind of just gets out there and plays miniature street ball. She's a kid that you watch and think that while she's tearing it up in this league, she's probably not going to be any good when she gets to high school unless she learns some fundamental ball handing skills. And the entire game her dad is standing on the side of the court absolutely screaming at her.  I kind of feel bad for her.

So the point guard on the other team was dribbling to the basket and she was going to shoot a lay-up, and D****** is running to catch up with her and her dad is yelling for her to GET HER! GET HER! and D******'s feet got tangled up with the other girl's feet and the girl fell.  Hard.  And then she skidded a little bit.  Now I have to say if it had been my kid, I'm not entirely sure what I would have done.  I'd like to think I would have been concerned for my child, you know, like whether or not she was bleeding or had broken her arm, and everything else that was happening would have been secondary.  But this girl's mom and dad?  Oh my gosh they went straight on the court (her mother came out of the stands) and went after the referees.  At that point Scott looked at me and said "Oh yeah!  We're about to see somebody get thrown out of the gym!"  

Nobody got thrown out, but one of the referees, a girl, did get a little snotty with the mother, but I really don't blame her.  After all, it's not the referees fault that somebody got fouled.  They  were trying to make sure everybody was okay and the little girl was just howling and D******'s dad was all "Good job!" (I though that was in poor taste) and the mother was out on the court just carrying on and really showing her butt.  To make matters worse all the parents on their side were encouraging her to make a scene.  

But then I thought about it some more, and actually I think we're all lucky she didn't go after D******'s dad, who was really being a jackass about the whole thing.  Well, everybody calmed down and the girl was okay and then we lost.  Ashlyn shot one time, and it was an air ball.  It was on-line, only it was a little short.  But I swear, I'm going to these games and watching and they're not even keeping score, and I'm so nervous I have to take a pill.  What in the world am I going to do when she gets to middle school ball?       

I really should know better

Friday both Frosty and Dixie had appointments at the vet. Frosty needed his yearly shots and Dixie needed her first set of shots plus I wanted to get her checked for feline leukemia just to be on the safe side since we found her in a germ hole. When Scott called to tell me that he couldn't come home to watch Owen and Skylar I should have rescheduled the appointment. I should have known that if I was taking Owen, Skylar, and the two cats someplace in the car by myself I might as well invite Trouble to ride along in the front seat with me. But I am strong. I live far away from family. I have no one to watch my kids for me while I do mundane everyday tasks like take animals to get shots so I take them with me. Actually, it doesn't really occur to me that there should be someone to watch my kids while I do things. They are just always with me. Plain and simple.

So it took three tries to get Frosty and Dixie into the kennel, as we currently only have one and they were having to share against their will. Then, after I finally managed to get the door shut there was a massive cat fight in there. I guess nobody won because after it was over they were both plastered up against opposite ends of the kennel and neither of them looked like they were bragging so I put the kennel in the backseat beside Skylar.

And oh my gosh does Frosty hate the car. I knew he hated the car, but it's been a year since he'd been in the car and I had kind of hoped he would get better about it but no such luck. As soon as we started backing up he started screeching. Just over and over and over screeching like I was killing him and it totally freaked Skylar out, so I'm trying to drive the car really fast (but safely) to the vet and Owen's asking nonstop questions about why is Frosty making all that noise and how is Frosty making all that noise and what in the world is wrong with Frosty and on and on and somehow I managed not to drive the car off a cliff to avoid being overcome by all the screeching and all the questions. Probably what saved us is there are no cliffs between our house and the vet.

We got to the vet and first I put Skylar in the stroller. Then I got Owen out of the car. Then I got the kennel out. Has anybody seen the movie Christmas Vacation? Where the grandma shows up at the house with a present and it turns out she wrapped up her cat in the box? And Chevy Chase is holding the present by the bow and it's just shaking all over the place all wildly? Anybody? Because THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS when you put Frosty and Dixie in the same kennel and then attempt to carry the kennel into the vet. It's bad enough that they are in there together, but then they look through the breathing holes in the sides of the kennel and they see the vet and they LOSE THEIR MINDS. And the vet? Does it have a ramp? Is it handicap/wheelchair/stroller accessible? Apparently not. Because there was no ramp. My stroller doesn't have a bar, it has two handles. So I had to put down the kennel to get Skylar and the stroller up to the door. And the stupid kennel is scooting across the ground away from the vet with the cats' efforts to get as far away as possible. Frosty is all "Oh my God we're at the vet! She's brought us to the vet! This is bad, Dixie, bad. Do what I do!" And there they are inside it, throwing their bodies up against the side, trying to move it back to the car. One, two, GO! One, two, GO!

We made it inside and into an exam room. The lady opened the door on the kennel and cats shot everywhere, let me tell you. Frosty got his shots first and was immediately put back inside. Dixie got her tests done (all were negative) and got her shots and was shoved back inside. Then we went to pay and I was thinking it didn't go as badly as I thought it would go and right then Frosty threw up inside the kennel all over Dixie. And Dixie jumped on Frosty and there was another huge cat fight in the kennel in the throw-up. So the good people that work there took both cats and washed them off while I paid and did everything in my power to keep a huge dog from eating Skylar. Then Scott calls me on my cell phone, and asks if I'm done yet, and I'm trying to explain what's happened, trying to get it across to him that my days are filled with things other than good times playing video games and it's so hard to be me and I'm doing the best I can do and the stupid cat threw up all over the other cat and all over the inside of the kennel and Owen is begging me to let him pet the doggie and the lady comes out with my kennel with Frosty and 3 pounds of newspaper shoved inside it and a cardboard kennel with Dixie so we're going to try to get everybody to the car and Scott's all "What do you want for lunch? What do you feel like? Do you want a sandwich, or something else? What do you want me to get you for lunch?" and finally I'm all "I'M GOING TO HAVE TO CALL YOU BACK" and then, then I drop my cell phone.

So now my cell phone won't charge on demand, you have to plug it in and wiggle the plug for, oh, like half an hour and maybe, maybe it will begin to charge, and when you unplug the cord it still says it's charging, which I know is impossible of course, so you have to plug it in again and then unplug it right away so the battery meter quits blinking. Then it shows a full battery, which also must be an evil lie, because if you try to make a call on it the battery immediately drops to empty and the phone begins beeping every few seconds so you're sure to notice that it needs to be plugged in again. And it is PHYSICALLY HURTING ME that my phone is messed up, and what in the world am I going to do if I lose my ability to text message, because text messaging is what makes me whole, and if I don't have your cell phone number you should be glad, because if I had it I'd text you EVERY SINGLE DAY OF YOUR LIFE. I think I'm going to have to replace my cell phone, and I'm not really happy about it, and all of this could have been avoided if I'd just stayed home. But now really, where's the fun in that?

Cat sighting

After about 4 days under my bed, Jet has decided to join us. Monday he made his first daytime appearance, and every day since he's spent more and more time around us all, except for Scott, who he continues to avoid like the plague. But I can't say I blame him, as Scott does not care for cats in the least, cannot even pretend to like cats for my benefit, cannot even try to pretend. In this picture you can kind of see where Jet was shaved from about mid-back down. Though it is growing back in quite nicely, it sort of resembles a reverse mullet.












Here's where the story gets a little complicated. I didn't think Jet was going to make it. I was seriously afraid he was going to starve himself to death in protest of living with us and I was planning on taking him back. So last Sunday the girls and I went to an animal rescue place in Vancourt, Texas. I can't even begin to explain the circumstances the animals were living in at her house, but simply put there were 31 cats and 57 dogs-I am NOT EVEN LYING-living in this tiny filthy house with this filthy lady. It's kind of a situation where I feel like if someone called animal services this place would be shut down due to cruelty to animals. The house was beyond horrid, with crushed litter, animal poop, food, and pee-covered newspapers all over the floors. There were pens made of chicken wire in the living room filled with dogs covered in dirt and poop. Bags of cat food were spread out on the floor and the cats had chewed holes in the bags and were eating out of them. Water bowls looked like they hadn't been changed in months. Bags of litter were stacked in random places and those had been clawed through also and cats had just pooped on what had leaked out of the holes. There was cat throw-up and poop on the counters in the kitchen. If I had not saved at least one animal from that house I think God would have struck me down as I drove away. And if it sounds bad to you, believe me, it was SO MUCH WORSE.

So anyway, much to Scott's dismay, we now also have a kitten named Dixie.

Skylar turns 1

Today Skylar is 1 year old. And what a year it's been! I have to admit I had my doubts early on as to whether or not we were going to keep her, what with all the screaming, and then there was the screaming, followed by more screaming, but we all hung in there and she made it.

She's not walking yet, but she will take 2 steps on her own and up to 4 if you really turn on the coaxing. She has given up the bottle completely, as bottles are for babies, and she is a big girl! So big, in fact, that she is too good to eat baby food, even the toddler ravioli that I've tried to pass off as big girl food. For breakfast she east two, count 'em TWO, packets of maple and brown sugar oatmeal. For lunch she usually has some chicken and corn and peas or small carrots, and one time, though I'm sooo sorry to admit this, she even had a hot dog. For dinner she eats whatever we are eating. She only has 8 teeth, so we cut it really small and she crams it all in her mouth and we call it good. Skylar loves "cookies" which are really ritz wheat crackers, and she can eat 11, yes 11, mini strawberry pancakes at one sitting. All she drinks is whole milk with a little bit of ovaltine or ice water, which is her favorite. But I think she just likes the sound the ice makes beating against the inside of the sippy cups when she shakes it.

Skylar is quite the talker, which is good because I know exactly what I need is another kid running their mouth around here, and she jabbers constantly. She's also extremely nosy, and right now she's trying her hardest to open a box that the UPS man left here even though it goes to our neighbors' house. She also spends a lot of time trying to make long distance phone calls.

All in all, she's really wonderful, especially if you don't count the moments when you say "No!" and she throws herself face down on the floor and pitches a fit for the ages. I guess sometimes some of the best things in life really are the things you don't plan.