New Year's Reflections 2013 - Boots' Year

As this year came to a close, I thought a lot about where it went and came up kinda empty... So I decided to fish some of the year's highlights out of clutter in my head and hang them up with magnets on my Internet fridge, where others can enjoy them.

I’m organizing them in a series of posts, one for each family member. Then I’ll finish up with our hopes for the next year.

I’ll start with Boots, because she consumes about 80% of my mental resources. Then I’ll be able to relax and give everyone else the attention their stories deserve.


***

Kindergarten

As the year started Boots was midway through her Kindergarten year. The bus picked her up in the morning at 7:10 and dropped her off at 11:20. She would ask me, “Does the day seem short to you too, Mama?”

Yep.

She loved her teacher, so did I, and she also enjoyed art and playtime.

Her teacher loved her too. During our parent teacher conference, she praised Boots' helpfulness, willingness to follow direction, and she said she was one of the quiet ones in a very noisy class. I asked if we were here for my Boots' conference.

She said, “Oh, yes.”

I was proud, but a little bemused as to how my spirited, rambunctious little girl, who speaks only at full volume, could contain all that for the school day. I decided I didn't care, I was glad she was well behaved at school and exercises her other qualities with me at home. It was nice knowing that she has those skills, and that she chooses to use them when she needs them most.

Having a kid in school is a whole new realm in parenting for Charley and me. After spending the last five years endeavoring to get Boots to sleep, and to stay asleep past 4:30 a.m., it felt wrong to wake her up at six to get ready for school. Sometimes I'd let her keep sleeping until the last possible moment, then I'd wake her up, animate her little body through getting dressed, hair brushed, and fed, then drive her to school to just barely make the 7:45 bell.  The irony that now she wants to sleep in was not lost on me.

I noticed that kids don't get homework anymore, the family gets homework. Such as reading with your child for fifteen minutes everyday, and math games you play with a parent, etc. It's OK, just different.

Then there's new social problems like, “Mom, Gracin is mad at me because she thought I chased her at recess. What do I do?” And, “Mom, there's a kid who bothers me and my friends and recess everyday. He won't go away. What do I do?” Honestly? I had no idea. If a friend was mad at me, then I'd just wait until she wasn't mad anymore.  I never knew what to do when I was bullied. I'd usually cry.  Clueless. Determined to give Boots some help, I did lots of thinking and research, and happily things all worked out in the end. Now I know how to coach her on effective things to say when being bullied, or when a misunderstanding with a friend happens. I also learned the protocol for involving the school administration, and when, and who, and how, to ask for help. I could write an article to help other parents with newly minted school age children...  I sure needed one.

Then there's the right clothes, snacks, volunteering, fund-raisers, class parties, field trips, picture day, show-and-tell, a never-ending parade of viruses that marched through our family, all of this was new territory for our family.

A warm May day we were playing in our cul-de-sac and Boots informed me she wanted to have her ears pierced.  The next day, we drove to a mall that had a Claire's Boutique.  After waiting an hour for the store to open we hurried in and Boots announced that she wanted her ears pierced, but the girl was not yet trained to pierce ears.  (It's a minor medical procedure these days, complete with paperwork, et al.) Boots cried as we called some friends whose daughter recently had her ears pierced.  They told us that the mall in Tanasbourne, with the Macy's in it, had a Claire's.  We heard Tanasbourne mall and Macy's.  The Macy's employees looked bemused as we asked where we could get her ears pierced.  We called again, and this time we collected the "Claire's" part of the directions.  We headed over, and Boots chose blue flowers. Click, click, it was done.  She was very proud and so were we.

Boots was ready for summer when June arrived.


In June we were notified that Tucker achieved legendary status. We have always held him as legendary, but now it was official. He was included in the book, Legendary Locals of the Long Beach Penninsula, by Sydney Stevens. His picture is one of him on his Day Sailor on Shoalwater Bay, with Boots by his side. It was a wonderful moment. Because she was also pictured and named, she was invited to attend the exclusive book presentation and signing at the Columbia Pacific Heritage Museum. She spent the afternoon shaking hands and signing books with the other legends present that day, and when she got tired she recharged by taking a snuggle break on her Oma's lap.  It is a wonderful book and makes an excellent gift for anyone interested in the Long Beach Peninsula.  I might be able to score you an autographed copy...

Just two legends swapping autographs...

In late June, Boots started her week at Farm Camp. Boots and her friend Madi spent each day for a week out in Patton Valley helping around a working farm, grooming animals, and riding horses.

The highlight of her summer was her visit to Tante Lina's—she loves it there. Tante Lina introduced her to beading, and in the three hours Dave, Charley and I were gone fishing, she produced a half dozen necklaces and a few bracelets as well. She also got to ride horses, help in the garden, and play in the river near their house. She also soaked up all the attention her Tante Lina lavishes on her.

Gin and Boots

Also memorable for Boots was our visits to Oysterville, particularly because of the presence of two other little girls, her cousin Amelia and a new friend, Gin. Gin, short for Virginia, is the daughter of Abby, whom Charley played with as a youngster vacationing in Oysterville. Second generation Oysterville playmates—so cool. [I have been informed that Boots and Gin are fourth! generation playmates.  Oysterville is a wonderful place to have such deep roots.]  Boots was so moved by the experience of having a new Oysterville friend, she used some of her Christmas money to buy a stick horse to give to Gin to next time we meet there.  Gin and Oysterville has become synonymous; when we tell Boots about an upcoming trip, she asks if Gin will also be there.

Mimi and Boots

The grand event of Boot's summer is always her birthday party. She turned six this past July and as usual we had a water party for her in our backyard. The day was warm and we had hoses crisscrossing the yard, charging the plumbing to the play structure that mists the slide (a custom job by Charley), one filling a kiddie pool, another running a slip-n-slide, yet another filling a bucket and water balloons. The water balloon battle raged, and eventually degraded to buckets and hoses, and all the guest left several hours later wet, loaded with sugar, and happy. No one as much as the birthday girl.

First Grade

Summer ended too quickly and first grade loomed. Her anxiety grew and grew, until finally when someone would ask her if she was excited about going in to the first grade she would simply run away from them. It came time for school clothes shopping, (she loves shopping!) and she wanted nothing to do with it. She was terrified. When it was a couple weeks away, she broke down, laid on the floor in tears, saying that she didn't want to go, she hates school, school is stupid... Then she'd beg me to home-school her, to which I answered, “No.”  I can hardly get her to pick up her dirty socks, let alone sit and focus on math for an hour. She'd break me in a week. Judge me as you will.

During her yearly checkup, I discussed her anxiety issues with her doctor as I believed that her school fear is a symptom of her natural tendency to be anxious. He suggested we try therapy for anxiety, with the hopes of giving her some tools for working through these situations that were so scary for her. The therapy was only so-so successful; it's difficult for a doctor to effectively know a person in forty-five minutes, once a week. The best advice, as usual, came from friends; I called the school and brought her in to meet her teacher. It was very informal, but after seeing the familiar hallways, her young, pretty teacher who was very nice to her, she visibly relaxed. I was also able to talk to her teacher briefly about Boots' anxiety and I think that helped prime her to be a little extra gentle with Boots. It was also nice for Boots to hear from Sydney Stevens, a former grammar school teacher herself, that teachers are also a little nervous on the first day. Happily, things have been OK for her this year. Although, she is already looking forward to summer.

Thanksgiving brought her cousins Amelia, Sam, Christian and Tiberius.  Boots and Amelia attached themselves at the hip and very little was seen or heard from them during the festivities.  Except after dinner, "Mama, can I have more of Oma's chocolate cream pie?!?"

And from Amelia, "Me too!"

And from me, "Yes, and I don't mind if I do too."

Christmas came and her excitement grew along with her Christmas list.  At the top of the list was a Baby Butterscotch Furr Real Pony.  She wrote her list to Santa, and wrote another one for Berzo, and we mailed them off.  To our surprise, Santa wrote back two lovely typewritten letters, signed by Santa along with a candy cane.  The thrill was palpable.  Christmas morning came and Boots went for the biggest package first, naturally, and grinned when her very own Baby Butterscotch was revealed.  They were inseparable for the rest of the day.

Over the last year, her passion for horses has grown, as evidenced by her growing collection of horse toys, horse clothes, the frequency of their appearance in her artwork, clay sculptures, and homemade books. She also loves playing board games like Horseopoloy, Horse Show, Herd your Horses, and Forbidden Island. She is very proud of her new reading skills and reads nearly everyday—usually about horses. She is currently working her way through an unabridged version of Black Beauty.  It is common for Berzo to bring her a book, “Will you read this book to me sis-ter?”

Usually, “Sure, come sit by me,” is the reply.

Music to my ears.


Boot's message to you: "I love horses. I can't wait to go to Oysterville," and "Hi!"

My Littler 'Berz is Sick

For the past two days, I’ve noticed a raspier note in Berzo’s ever present cough. When in public places I remind her to cough into her elbow, and she blurts, “I’m still sick.” We have spent much of the last few months sick and therefore have answered many inquiries about our health, so I thought this was one of those programmed responses. She didn’t feel warm, or have a runny nose...

Turns out she really was coming down with something. Two nights ago, she looked a little flimsy. Then after her bath she wilted. As soon as she was out of the hot water, goose bumps prickled her skin and she cried as I dried her with a towel that must have felt like sandpaper.

Uh-oh.

I got her in her jammies and took her temperature. She was just shy of 100 degrees. I got her bundled up on our futon and made her warm cocoa. I told Charley and Boots that Berzo was sick and they both sprung into action. Charley gave her a hug and Boots hopped up on the futon and gave her a hug too. Berzo and Boots are not always on the best of terms so Berzo tried to get rid of her. “Sister, I’m sick! Let me be.”

Boots said, “I know you’re sick. Would you like me to read you a book?” She picked up her new favorite, Ferdinand the Bull and started to read.

Berzo said, “No! I’m sick. Go away.”

Undeterred Boots started to read. She read the entire book, then picked up another, and another, and another. Eventually, it became time for Boots to get ready for bed, but she ignored my requests and read on. Berzo sat just quietly and listened. Boots offered her a choice of which book to read next and sometimes she’d respond, sometimes not, then Boots would choose for her. Berzo's eyes got heavy, and right at her 7pm bedtime she fell asleep.

I wish I could report that I was so tenderhearted. All I could think is of was this past September and November we spent confined to our house as the last fever worked its way through our family. And how skinny and pale Boots and Berzo became. And the swine flu that is ravaging our neighborhood and area—some of whom have been vaccinated. So many people we know have had it and it’s awful. At Charley’s work, several people have been hospitalized. A four-year-old child recently died.

We are all vaccinated. Charley and I in the early fall and the girls only this past Monday. I was blaming myself for waiting so long. I was blaming myself for all the public places we’ve visited, an indoor playground, the library, stores, parks, etc. I was blaming myself for not taking the threat more seriously.

I looked at Charley. He’s smiling, he’s relaxed. I wanted to kick him. He’s the worrier not me.

“She just has a fever. You don’t know it’s swine flu. There’s lots cold viruses that cause fevers too,” he said.  I still wanted to kick him a little.

I reminded myself that feeling guilty is counterproductive and useless. I reminded myself that I waited on their flu shots because they have to be healthy, and they’ve rarely been healthy at the same time since summer. Then when I called and made the appointment, during Christmas Break, we had to wait another week to get in. I reminded myself that when we visited public places, we sanitized before and after, and washed our hands frequently, and always before we ate. I reminded myself that we can’t live in germ free bubbles. Life is risk. Risk is OK. Risk can even be fun.

Still my mood persisted.

I was stuck in a it’s-just-not-fair and what-if-we-all-get-it pout. Also, I was disappointed because my 2014 All New Amy Plan was in the works.

I have long admonished myself for being a poor family manager and being somewhat disorganized about our daily life. I’m a free spirit, I like to blow where the wind takes us and see what the day holds. Other than meals and bedtimes, I’m not big on scheduling anything. So as a result, we tend to while away days that could be seized, Charley and I let home projects idle and stall out, we have very few social engagements, and take very little time for us, blah, blah, blah.

However, 2014 is a brand new year. And this year Amy is going to be organized! Social activities are on the books! Boots is signed up for swim lessons! (Something I’ve been meaning to do for months.) We have a plan for our kitchen remodel! Individual projects are scheduled. The new stuff is ordered, Charley and I are ready to begin on refurbishing our cabinets, the contractor is waiting in on the bench for materials to come in. We have hired babysitters to helps us out on weekends while we work, and eventually allow us some time out together. Everyone’s excited and charged up about the changes. Boots is counting the days until Saturday where she’ll have two teenagers to boss around and play with.

But Berzo has a fever. Suddenly all my plans are in suspension. I missed my Mom’s social group. I missed holding and ogling the newborn of one of my friends. I’ve cancelled the babysitter’s first visit. No cabinet refinishing will happen this weekend.

Feeling better the next morning, I accepted the fact that we’re not doing much, which is difficult for an outdoor girl such as myself. Much to my surprise it was an extremely pleasant day. We took the morning slow and watched home videos on our computer. We laughed at our goofiness and re-lived warmer, sunnier, healthier days. Berzo was particularly interested in seeing her birthday videos. Afterwards, she sat in her basket of stuffed animals and looked at books.

During our morning, I was able to fit in several loads of laundry, emptied the dishwasher and many other household chores, while taking fifteen minute breaks frequently to play with Berzo, read books with her, watch her dance a toddler ballet on my bed, get her water and cocoa, and coax her to into eating some breakfast.

Around 10am, I bundled her in blankets and set her in the stroller. I loaded her up with snacks and water and we headed out for a walk. I love getting out for some natural light, fresh air and all, but my grand plan was for the stroller to lull her into taking a nap, which she doesn’t normally do. We headed for the bank for our first stop and by the time we arrived she was yawning heavily. Afterwards we strolled the half-mile or so to the coffee shop for a treat, an Apple Juice Love-It! for her, and a decaf coffee for me. She guzzled her apple juice and asked for more snacks. She was still awake when we got home, but was very droopy. I checked her temperature and she was up a bit at 101 degrees so I gave her some medicine and bundled her up on the futon. Our cat, Rogue, curled up right next to her. I turned on Berzo's favorite movie, Brave, and started some chicken soup.

She didn’t want to eat but asked me to snuggle her. I thought about all the chores and such I could be doing. Then crawled in next to her. She snuggled right in, fitting her self to my the curve of my body, laying her head on my arm. It was wonderful. We stayed that way for quite some time, sharing warmth as I breathed in her sweet scent. I tried to remember what I was so upset about yesterday. I couldn't think of what it was—it simply didn’t matter anymore.

Sometimes, I need a reminder that my plans are just that, my plans. Sometimes, God, fate, nature, the great spirit, whatever you may call it, reminds me that his (or her) plans trump mine, and that I’m not here for the sole purpose of getting stuff done. I’m here to love, live, and complement the richness of this world and all our interconnected relationships. I am not alone, I’m a tiny cell in this vast being that is our planet, our galaxy, our universe, our supreme being, and I have a part to play that’s just as important as anybody else’s. And in this moment, snuggling my feverish child is about the most divine way I could spend my time.

Mama, will you snuggle me?

Parenting Book Review - Siblings Without Rivalry

Powell's Books · Barnes & Noble

Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish ©2012

The subtitle to this book reads: How to Help Your Children Live Together So You Can Live Too

Sound nice, doesn't it?

Currently in our home...

I finished this book over a month ago and have had the worst time writing this review. Although I've had some success, which has improved my relationship with the girls, Berzo (2) and Boots (6) fight constantly, usually ending in hurt feelings. Actually, as I type, their relationship is in the worst shape it's ever been. In the shadow of this continual conflict, it's been a struggle to write a deserving review.

Berzo's feelings are easily hurt, and Boots is easily excitable—about everything—so they clash—a lot. Boots recovers quickly, and wants to try again, whereas Berzo takes her hurts to heart, and wants nothing to do with Boots afterward, even if Boots extends a peace offering. I use everything I've learned about conflict resolution from this and other books I've read over the years to help them work through conflicts in a positive way, and sometimes it even works, but in total things only continue to get worse. However, I remind myself that, at six and two, they have a lot of maturing to do, and we have a lot of time to work on these problems.

Deep Sea Diving?

I've come to realize that parenting is a lot like deep sea diving. In the murky depths there are wonders to behold, also trenches, hot vents and beautiful little floating luminescent orbs that lead you into a mouthful of teeth. When one attempts deep sea diving, it is good to have training, good gear and knowledge of what lies below.

Previously in our home...

The book's introduction begins:

“I secretly believed that sibling rivalry was something that happened to other people's children.”

“Somewhere in my brain lay the smug thought that I could outsmart the green-eyed monster by never doing any of the obvious things that all the other parents did to make their kids jealous of each other. I'd never compare, never take sides, never play favorites… ...what would they have to fight about?”

“Whatever it was they found it.”

Did the authors pluck these thoughts from your head too?

Feeling confident my girls would be best friends through the power of my caring parenting style, my metaphorical toes were on the edge of the boat ready to dive into the Pacific Ocean—in my street clothes. I was wearing boots too—the heavy kind.

What? Why’s everybody looking at me?

Splash. Ooh, the water is chilly.

The friction between them started when Berzo became mobile and began invading Boot's space and toys. It was too much to handle for a kid that is exceptionally easy to frustrate. Then, because Boots was the one melting down, she was the one we'd talk to, making it seem to her that she was in trouble. When we were really addressing the kid that was having trouble. I'd try to teach her how to navigate the situation, but what she really wanted is to unleash all that frustration on Berzo.

Soon we're all frustrated, and Boots would start hurling questions at us like, “Who do you love more?” and make accusations like, “That's not fair!”, “You love Berzo more!” then finally, “I hate Berzo! I wish she would go away!”

I had no idea how to handle these ferocious emotions. I often reacted with anger, thinking: I have put so much of my life into this spoiled kid, that having those statements hurled at me was too much. I didn't recognize it for the plea that it was.

Glug, glug - It’s so cold—I’m too heavy—back to the boat!

Luckily there's lots of on-the-job training, I'm a strong swimmer, and there are books like this one out there to offer guidance.

Hey, these are cool...  What did you call them again?  Flippers? They'll work better than my wellies, you say?

It really is that obvious—afterwards. No one is born with the skills for deep sea diving, nor are we born with the skills for parenting our children. Skills are learned, just like eating with a spoon, programming in c#, and deep sea diving. Implementing these skills and convincing your kids to go along… that's a neat trick...


How This Book Works

Siblings Without Rivalry follows a set of parents in group sessions with the instructor/authors. At first, I thought it was a lazy way to write a book; after a short introduction, the narrative reads like a dictation of parenting group sessions. It's not, of course, it's a thoughtful distillation of their experiences teaching sibling relationship sessions to many groups of parents. As I read, I found the parents' stories and conversations moving. The parents asked nearly every question that popped into my head, which was accompanied by a satisfying response. It was also comforting to read accounts of other parents making the same mistakes I have, and being just as clueless as I am about what to do.

The following is the outline and an example of the type of advice in that chapter.

1. Brothers and Sisters Past and Present
1. This chapter asks parents to record sibling conflicts, and sets expectations for what you can achieve as a parent.
2. Example: In response to one woman's statement about wanting her kids to be friends, the author replies with her own story, “‘Instead of worrying about the boys becoming friends,’ I explained, ‘I began to think about how to equip them with the attitudes and skills they'd need for all their caring relationships.’” Brilliant. 
3. 
   
2. Not Till the Bad Feelings Come Out
1. Listening to your child complain about the troll that is their sibling, and acknowledging their feelings, is a very healing process.
2. “Insisting on good feelings between siblings led to bad feelings. Acknowledging bad feeling between siblings led to good feelings.”
3. Other emotional skills are important such as, naming feelings, and reflecting back to the child what they are feeling so they know you understand, for example, “You seem to be feeling angry that Berzo took your stick horse without asking.” 
4. 
   
3. Perils of Comparisons
1. Even if you don't actively compare your kids to one another, “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” The water is murky, for example praising one child within earshot of the other can feel like a put down to the other child.
2. Another insightful example: when a mother praised one of her child's improvement in math, the other gloated about her even better grade. The mother could have responded by saying, “There's no report card contest going on here… …I want to sit down with each of you individually to…” Then follow through giving each child your full attention and focusing your discuss on that child’s individual progress.
3. 
   
4. Equal is Less
1. Personally, I have railed against trying to be fair, and right from the start didn't tolerate, “She has more!” and “I want one too!!” However, just because I didn't tolerate it, didn't stop either child from feeling slighted if I didn't provide duplicates of everything. Now I have some new tools for working with this.  I have added, “Everybody gets what she needs. I'm not worried about what anybody else has, if you need more, you can have more,” to my parenting mantras. Or I might say, “Eat what you have first, then if you need more there is plenty here for whomever needs it.” I still don't count and measure, and the girls are more relaxed knowing their needs will be met.
2. This chapter was also important for answering the, “You love Berzo more!” accusation. Instead of angry rebuttals, I now reply by telling Boots all the things I love about her, and how much she means to me. I don't mention Berzo at all. She glows. She hasn't said that since I read this book.
3. 
   
5. Siblings in Roles
1. How often has, “This is Boots, my little artist, and this is my monkey climber girl, Berzo” rolled off my tongue? It's so easy to cast kids in roles. I always thought I was praising a strength, but in reality, I'm limiting my kids' potential. By labeling Boots “The Artist”, she thinks that art is the only thing she's good at and resists branching out. Also, it could also limit Berzo's interest in art. Or worse, what if by some freak of talent, Berzo becomes a better artist than Boots? Then Berzo will have taken Boots' identity as “The Artist”. I've re-trained myself to introduce them as my daughter, Boots, and my daughter, Berzo. That's it. They get to decide who, and what they are. I also have to guard against other people labeling them; I try to always say, “Yep, she likes to climb, but can do so many other amazing things too, like, color, make funny faces, tell a funny joke… She told me this one the other day… 
2. 
   
3. Out of their earshot, I love to compare and contrast my kids' abilities and personalities. It helps me get a handle on them as individuals.
4. 
   
6. When Kids Fight
1. The first piece of advice is to do nothing. Weird, but what a relief!  If it escalates, in my house it usually does, then the best thing to do is describe what you see without passing any kind of judgement. Kids are notoriously self centered, making it difficult to understand a sibling's intentions or point of view. Add to that the heat of conflict… Kaboom! 
2. A parent can come into a dispute, hear and reflect each side in a way that both kids can understand, and them let them work out a solution. 
3. Example:
4. Me: “Wow you guys sound upset.” 
5. Boots: “Berzo has my favorite necklace, and she's going to break it!”
6. Me: “You're worried that Berzo will break your necklace.  It is really pretty, Berzo must really like it.”
7. Boots: *calmer* “Yeah, but it's mine. And she's going to break it.”
8. Berzo: “No, it's actually MINE!” (It is not, of course, but Boots has programmed this one into her stock phrases cache.)
9. Me: “Berzo, that necklace belongs to Boots. She's worried that it might get broken.”
10. Berzo: “I want to wear it!” 
11. Me: “Boots, what can we do here?”
12. Boots: “That one is my favorite, but she can wear this other one.”
13. Berzo: “Thank you, sis-ter.” 
14. This actually happened. REALLY.
15. When I come in and describe what I see, show respect for Boots' property rights, she might unlock her position and shift into finding a solution that Berzo will be happy with too. Berzo is a bit little to understand the nuances of what went on, but I also try to coach her by giving her things to say and ways of asking that doesn't trigger Boots' volatile temperament. It is no small feat, and takes a lot of self-control on my part, because something is usually cooking on the stove, or the phone is ringing, but as I'm teaching them, I'm also learning how to focus and respectfully interact with them. 
16. 
    
7. Making Peace With the Past
1. One woman spoke of how she was continually compared to her sister in an unfavorable light, and how it still affected her to this day. Through these sessions, she began to realize that these comparisons probably caused some suffering for her sister too, and she decided to call her.
2. “Then she told me how sorry she was for the pain she must have caused me, and how much it meant to her that I had called, and that if I hadn't, we might have gone to our graves without ever knowing each other. Then I started to cry.”

I endeavor not only to avoid this sort of mistake in raising my girls, I also want them to know what potential they have in each other for a lifelong companion. No one will understand or know the essence of you like a sibling. No one else will witness the trials and triumphs of your formative years from a first hand perspective, one that can actually enhance your understanding of those times. Even your future spouse or children won't be able to know you in that level of unspoken understanding. It's why I psshaaw, whenever Charley tells me how lucky he got to have me… All the people I grew up with know that he is my good luck.

There's nothing I can do to make Berzo and Boots become friends, nor would I try, but I can avoid deepening the rift between them, and I can give them the building materials they need to bridge the gap between them when they are ready.

Although I fight with my wet suit to get it on, and get kinda weirded out breathing through hoses, I'm much better equipped than I was before reading this book and much more cognizant of the dangers.

Most importantly, I have hope.