Such a good little boy

Monkey's new song and some other simply adorable things he has done recently have made me realize how blessed I am to have such a good little boy. Last night, he did something I wish he'd do every night but I'll remember it always.

We did our normal little routine, dinner, bath, bottle, breast top-off and sitting on mommy and daddy's bed in our dimly lit bedroom. Usually I take him into his room when he shows more sleep signs and we read 2-4 books. Usually after those 2-3 books he'll protest a little as I say "Night Night" and "I love you" then leave the room. But tonight, as I walked him into his room, his head on my shoulder and I whispering into his ear, "Mommy loves you so much, my little babba," he simply pointed towards his crib and reached out for his little blue stuffed monkey (the replacement for his previous bed fellows). I couldn't believe my eyes as he simply curled up and went to sleep.

For some reason, this brought me to tears. I can't really pinpoint why but it did. Perhaps it's because I'm nearing "that time" but I just kept thinking to myself "what a good little boy I have" and how blessed I was to have him.

Recycling Bin: Glimpse into our lives

As DH and I were putting out our recycling last night, I realized that the contents of it has changed drastically over the years. When we first moved into our home, we were young and did a lot of entertaining. We'd have a couple or two over for dinner at least every other week, if not every week. We'd drink wine or beer, cook nice meals and more importantly, DH and I were avid Mountain Dew drinkers. Back then, we'd have plenty of time to sleep off any kind of hangover or sugar/caffeine rush incurred from the night before. Our bin then contained a number of beer bottles, a wine bottle or two, a couple of cans from vegetables or other food products and LOTS of soda cans.

About a year after moving into our home, I decided that I was giving up the MD and most caffeine products. And succeeded, that is until my first trimester. I know you're not supposed to drink a lot of caffeine while pregnant but I started back up with a soda a day just so I could make it through a work day. During my first trimester, a lot things changed. Many of our friends were either pregnant as well or had children of their own just prior, therefore, the entertaining stopped. Even if they weren't going through those life changes, we probably wouldn't have invited many people over because as any mother knows, that first trimester is very tiring. I was in bed by 9:00 p.m., sometimes, 8:00 p.m. and dinners consisted of take-out, order-in or our now favorite Fend for Yourself. Fend for Yourself usually meant PB&J or soup for me. Therefore, our bin was filled with soda cans once more and soup cans as well and of course, no beer or wine bottles.

Only recently have DH and I finally given up soda again ... well, he has. We no longer buy any for the house but I will still have one with fast food. We still don't entertain. I'm still too exhausted at the end of each day to think of fixing a creative meal and we still do a lot of take-out, order-in and Fend for Yourself. Occasionally, we'll indulge in some beer or I'll have a glass of wine. But since I'm breastfeeding and we both need our wits about us in case lil' Monkey awakes at night, we don't indulge too heavily.

This morning when the recycling truck came they found a bin consisting of a taco dinner box, cereal boxes, juice bottles (juice has replaced soda -- they aren't for the Monkey), Vitamin Water bottles, fruit cups and two beer bottles. I wonder if the men on the truck examine the contents of the boxes they empty and put together stories in their head of what's happening in the household it belongs to?

Today's theme song

"There's a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain"

Yes, indeed Sting, indeed.

BTW, this song came to mind after reading a couple of work emails.

Sad to see you go

If you've visited this blog, you've undoubtedly noticed the quote at the top of the page. George Carlin was truly a great comedian and commentator on life as we know it. So insightful. I remember studying his court case against the FCC in my Media Law class in college and really feeling a great amount of respect for him.

As a Journalism student (yes, you couldn't tell by these posts), we were taught to revere Tim Russert as well. He truly was one of the best in his field. I'm sad that in the past few years I've been sleeping in on Sunday mornings and not watching Meet the Press as much as I did in college. I'd probably be a little less politically handicapped for it.

These two deaths were shocking to me for some reason. I suppose it's just a realization that I'm getting old and those who I've grown up with and looked up to in some sense are leaving us. Scary really. Can't imagine all of the people I will be able to name when I reach 40, 50, and so on.

Anyway, sad to see both of you go.

Moving to Denmark

No. Not really.

However, I just watched a report on 60 minutes about how people in Denmark are the happiest people in the world and why. For one, the education of all citizens is paid for straight through university. Also, they have paid health care and subsidies for child and elder care. That could be a good portion of the happiness they experience.

Also, they have an average 37 hour work week, little unemployment or poverty and 6 weeks of vacation. That's right. SIX WEEKS. Does Rosetta Stone sell Danish?

The country also has a low crime rate -- stabbings are considered front page big headlines in major newspapers. They also haven't experienced war or any type of conflict in over half a century.

Apparently, another reason is because they do not have high expectations. The report speculated that our need to achieve the ever-changing "American Dream" and to "keep up with the Joneses" are what cause so much unhappiness in our country. One Dane they interviewed said his goal in life was to "have a lot of time to spend with my family" and another said her goal was "to have a job I enjoy doing".

The one thing that we as Americans would not like about living in Denmark though are the taxes. Something has got to pay for all of that free stuff, right? It seems they pay around 50% of their income toward taxes (or so said the 60 minutes report).

As the report ended, I thought about how I could incorporate at least the value of not-so-great expectations into my life since I really couldn't change any of the other things dictated by our government, our culture and our history. Maybe this would be a life changing thing.

Then I changed the channel to the Fine Living Network. Oops. Mistake. I immediately saw a renovated bathroom that, of course, I instantly wanted. This new mindset won't come so easily after all.

Soccer Mom -- Me?

So this morning, I went to the salon to get my hair dyed and cut. I decided to try out an Aveda salon about 20 minutes from our house. It had to be an Aveda salon because the last dye job I had was from an Aveda salon and it held nicely, didn't stink too much, and their products are fairly "green".

I met with the stylist. She was younger and had one of those really hip, edgy hair styles. Judging from the way she put her outfit together, she definitely wanted to stand out from a crowd. I can respect this. I used to do this when I was younger and I can admire this quality.

As we spoke about what my expectations were and I was describing what I wanted, "to have less layers and maybe take the length to about my chin", she said, "Oh yes, the bob is very D.C. soccer mom and very 'in' among them."

I paused. I think I even looked mortified and gulped.

Smile, La Folle. Smile and say something.

"Oh, well. Okay."

Not really the sentiment I was yearning to express.

I was thinking, "I'M NOT A SOCCER MOM!" I was thinking, "I WAS OUT CLUBBING AND GOING TO RAVES WHEN YOU WERE IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL!" I was thinking, "YOU PROBABLY HAVEN'T NOTICED THE HOLE IN MY BOTTOM LIP THAT HAS CLOSED UP OR THE HALF DOZEN EARRING HOLES!" I was thinking, "I'M COOOL."

Or am I? Does it even matter? Should I even be trying at this point?

I was seriously bothered by this. As I left, the words "D.C. soccer mom" kept running through my head. I opened the door of my "crossover" SUV, hopped inside and turned on the engine. Suddenly, my stereo blaring BT's Emotional Technology didn't seem so hip. Suddenly, I felt very OLD.

Maybe I should switch to Van Morrison. No, wait, screw that, Renegade Soundwave. HA!

I drove home with a very uneasy feeling and questions about my very identity. In college, I was an "out and about" type of girl. I wore baggy pants, cute little tight T-shirts that showed a little belly and used glitter on my face. Yes. Glitter.

The weekend started on Thursday, sometimes Wednesday and lasted until Monday morning. I can recall a conversation I had with the people I hung out with then (none of whom I know or would even know how to get a hold of now). The conversation was about how I wasn't going to drive a Volvo. I wasn't going to succumb to a job where I'd need to lose my identity (i.e. let the lip ring hole close up). I'D GET A JOB WHERE THAT WAS ACCEPTABLE.

Let's face it. There are few well-paying jobs out there where this is acceptable. Unless you're an extremely talented artist (visually or musically) or work for a very liberal company (which is practically impossible to find in this area), you have to conform. I worked for two different government consulting agencies since graduating from college, for pete's sake. They wouldn't have taken kindly to my lip ring. I remember struggling to let it go, too. One day I just resigned that part of my life was over and put the rings into a bag with other items we donated to Goodwill.

Did I choose money over my true self? Am I a "sell out"? Or have I just morphed into what I'm really meant to be?

Madonna is a mom. Madonna still dances. She's changed her image a million times. Yeah, maybe I'm morphing like Madonna has time and time again all of these years. Only I'm morphing into what my environment and my child requires. A socially aware mother providing a stable environment. Is that so wrong?

I think if there's one thing I've learned from pop culture and the generations before us who have shaped it, it's that the idea of "live free, die young" is no longer a real goal. Maybe the "leave a nice looking corpse" part still is with the botox and plastic surgery craze, but at least, it's acceptable to be older with children and still listen to new music, dance and do things that our parents wouldn't have considered doing.

In the end, I really like my new "soccer mom" longish bob. It will be easy to style and yes, I think it fits my identity. The one I own now, Mommy, Wife and HOPEFULLY, MILF. Hehe. :)

Movies and Television -- New Vantage Point

Updated below

In the past few weeks, I've noticed something about my attitude toward things I had watched PRIOR to lil' Monkey's birth and how it has changed. I'm not talking about cursing or nudity or the usual things adults change their minds about once becoming parents. I'm referring more to the feelings certain movies or television shows evoke while watching them.

I can recall two instances where my emotions regarding something I've watched made me realize I have a whole new vantage point on the world as we know it. I know there was a third but I can't think of it now.

1) Lord of the Rings, Two Towers -- I was watching this movie this past weekend (TNT was rerunning the trilogy). And you know that scene where all of the women are sent to the bowels of Helm's Deep for safety? Well, two scenes from that particular part of the movie brought me to tears unlike before.

The first being the scene where the men are ripping the young boys from the mothers' arms to go to battle. This really struck home for me. I wouldn't want Monkey at the front lines of Helm's Deep facing Sauron's army! (Yes, I realize this is all fiction -- or is it? If our country institutes the draft again ... let's just say I'm thinking of starting Monkey on French lessons.)

The second being the scene where the blond woman is holding her little blond haired toddler who is crying heavily as they hear Sauron's army approaching. That, too, made me a little upset.

2) DWTS, this week -- They had two kid couples on the results show this week. Both danced better than some of the stars! But only one couple would continue on to appear week after week. The judges did a nice job of complementing them both but in the end, they had to choose a couple.

Before Monkey's birth I thought the concept of a trophy for everyone, even the losing team, was completely bogus, setting these kids up for a life of failure because they'd expect the world to honor them even if they aren't the best or work as hard. This competition between the two kid couples last night made me rethink it just for a bit. But in the end, I still agree with my original sentiment. Take the losing team out to dinner and recognize them for their efforts, but no trophies.

Has anything you've watched since becoming a parent made you stop and think about your feelings or viewpoint whereas you either thought nothing of it or thought differently before?

UPDATE (4/10/2008)

I just read this post by Gray Matter, and felt horrified for my child. What kind of world are we living in anyway? What is wrong with the parents of these deranged children?

Letters to Monkey

Caramama routinely writes posts to her daughter and sometimes quips responses from her daughter. I read about something similar in one of Real Simple's special Family issues. They had a bunch of letters that parents had written to their children to be read at certain times of their life. I thought this was a great idea and had written my own when he was only 12 weeks old. Tonight, as I was going through the My Documents folder on my PC, I found it. Below is the letter I wrote, intending to give it to him in an envelope when he finally went off to college or decided to find a job in another state, or whatever it is that requires him to finally leave our nest.

I think I may continue to write these periodically when I think of advice or sentimental things I hope for him to understand at a certain phase or moment in his life. Depending on the level of personal expression, I may post them here occasionally.

To my dear little boy

Age 12 weeks
To be read when you are ready to leave the “nest”

I’ve just fed you and tucked you in for the night and for two nights in a row; you’ve gone to bed pretty peacefully. As you’ll probably know by now, your mother has a paranoid side to her (thanks to your maternal grandmother who is much more cautious than even I am). And right now, I’m wondering if you’re “going down” too peacefully and if I should be checking for signs of some illness.

Early tomorrow morning, hopefully around 4:00 a.m. (this means you’ve let me “sleep in”), you’ll wake up fussy or even crying – ready to eat again. I’ll feed you and gently place you back in your crib. Then I’ll go back to bed, exhausted, longing for that precious new-parent commodity, SLEEP. However, once I go to bed, I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll find myself listening intently to the monitor for any signs of distress. Unfortunately, you have Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease and this causes you great discomfort after feeding and occasionally, you’ll spit up or make choking noises. You’ll grunt and then there will be silence. I’ll start to fall asleep and you’ll grunt some more. Instantly, I’ll awaken. If the grunting turns into more throaty sounds, I’ll be quietly, but quickly walking down the hallway to check on you. I’ll creep up to your crib and look for your belly to rise and fall with each breath. Examine your face and sleeping posture. Then once satisfied that no action is needed (and the most that’s ever needed is a quick wipe with the burp cloth), I’ll saunter back down the hallway and once more climb into bed.

My point in telling you this is to let you know that as much as I want you to grow up to be a smart, funny, responsible young man, I’ll wish I could have a monitor while you’re away at college or whatever venture is next for you. I know that in order for you to become your own person, you’ll need to leave our nest. I know I’ll need to let you go. I’ll miss you and will always welcome my little bird back to the nest.

P.S. A call every once in a while wouldn’t hurt. :)

"You make it look so easy."

Okay, I lied. Apparently I DO have something to say. AND it's a LONG one.

Today I went into the office for an All-hands meeting. Afterwards, a co-worker of mine pulled me into her office while I was walking to another area of the building for another meeting. She just entered her third trimester and was asking me questions. I could tell she was really nervous about the whole thing because as she mentioned more than once, neither her nor her husband have family in the U.S. or many friends in this area. She was asking me about whom to approach in the office about maternity leave, the benefits our company provides, etc. I described the appropriate channels to go through and how the leave worked (or the best I could since my memory for things even 9 months ago is horrible).

She kept saying, "I'm so scared," and asked if it, it being Motherhood, was any easier now that lil' Monkey is almost a year old.

First, this was a wakeup call to me. I bitch, whine and moan about how horrible things are, how I can't catch up on ANYTHING and how I'm always yearning for just one more hour of sleep. However, in that moment, I flashed back to when Monkey was first born. Things were difficult. Much more difficult than they are now. At least now, I have some semblance of what to do and when to do those things. I may not be on the mark each time but I pretty much know now when his diaper is dirty, when he's hungry, how to feed him (although that is ever changing as we move into the land of solids) and when he's ready to sleep.

Second, I wasn't sure what to tell her. I didn't want to sugar coat it yet I didn't want to horrify her anymore than she already was. PLUS, there was a ticking clock in my head since my PM had just popped into her office with a head nod meaning, "I'm ready whenever you are."

I said, "The first three months are hard. I won't lie. But then things get better and around 3-4 months you can try getting the baby on a schedule and by 6 months, things are even better. Then they turn mobile and it's a whole new ballgame." Did I go to far with that last one? Oops ... okay backtrack ... "But you're learning each thing as you go not all at once as you are in the first three months." Damn, why'd you say that?!

Then, she said to me, "You make it look so easy."

I paused for more than a second thinking back on all of the times I've been to the office since Monkey's birth. Up until we got the sitter a month ago, I'd often have him with me for a brief meeting with my PM which meant usually having to pacify him, rock him or feed him in order to cause as little commotion as possible. I'd often wonder after leaving the office, "They must hate me and think I'm a mess."

Finally, I responded, "Oh, that's just a facade. Sometimes on the inside, I'm freaking out." More like, MOST of the time. I just hope I didn't send too much of a mixed message to her this afternoon.

I did divert the conversation quickly at the end to the new breast pump she had on the floor, still in the box. It's the same one I use. I said, "Oh that's a good pump. You'll like it." Then for some reason I felt obligated to say something about breastfeeding (I usually leave this sensitive topic alone but since I KNEW she was considering it by the evidence of the pump, I thought I'd broach it).

"Oh and don't be too hard on yourself about the breastfeeding. It takes time and it's not as easy as popping the kid on. So don't beat yourself up if you don't get it right away." Then I recounted one of my favorite passages from a mothering book I have, "It's like dancing with a new partner. You're both learning the dance. You have to learn and he has to learn, so it takes a while to get it right." I'm positive those are not the EXACT words from the book but the sentiment is the same.

After my meetings, I finally left work and after picking Monkey up from the sitter's, I was marveling at how "put together" our sitter seems. I mean the woman was washing WINDOWS at 8 o'clock this morning when I dropped him off!! AND she had obviously organized her entire garage sometime between Wednesday when I picked Monkey up and this morning! And she has 3 boys of her own, who BTW, are all off from school this week! I'm constantly telling DH about how she just HANDLES it, whatever IT may be. I say how much I wish I could be like that because whatever IT is, she's calm and collected or firm when needed. Not flustered or distressed like I am when Monkey won't cooperate (especially when he won't let me finish putting his diaper on -- boy does that get me worked up). I mean, I've YELLED once before and felt miserable afterwards for having done it. This isn't a regular occurrence by any means but the fact that I couldn't just HANDLE it in a suitable fashion just distressed me more.

"You make it look so easy."

I haven't uttered these words to my sitter but I've certainly thought it. I wonder if she ever feels like I feel. Or has ever lost her cool. Do we all lose our facade when others aren't around? Is there a way for me to somehow incorporate this facade into my repertoire of parenting skills and use it even when no one is around? And if so, is that unhealthy?

Please don't grow up

I went to lunch with a friend today and it was good to get out of the house to converse with her. Both being mothers, the majority of our conversation was about our children and parenthood. We touched on the subject of what age we like or think we will like the most during our children's lives.

I can't say I know exactly what age I will treasure most or feel is the best age group, but I can say that the first 2-3 months were torture for me after lil' Monkey was born. The adjustment to our lifestyle changing, not knowing what I was doing as a mother, learning how to breastfeed, getting him on a schedule, etc. were just trying on DH and I. Plus, I think all of the struggle didn't seem *gasp* worth it since he wasn't really doing anything at that point.

When started showing us his first social smile and recognizing us, my attitude and outlook on life with child changed a little. Each day became a quest to make him smile. Then when he started giggling, the quest changed to find stuff to make him laugh (which BTW, his father is so much better at than I am and I'm SO jealous).

With each new milestone now comes new challenges in babyproofing and lil' Monkey is just growing so quickly that you can now see the little boy about to emerge and less of the baby. As I checked in on him tonight, shortly after he went to sleep, he was lying there in his crib with one of his favorite bedfellows, the hammer. He was sleeping on his side with his arms stretched out in front of him, grasping it with both hands. He's so cute in that position; one we've seen a lot lately. I wish I could somehow put a silencer on our camera and take that shot without waking him.

It's at these moments I wish I could freeze time just for a bit and enjoy this tiny baby boy for a little while longer. I love you lil' Monkey and no matter how big you get, you'll still be my lil' Monkey. (But I promise I'll stop calling you that by high school ... maybe.)

Incendiary Viral Crap

I have a BIG pet peeve that someone in my family has been irritating even more recently. This pet peeve involves these incendiary, viral emails. You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones meant to piss you off so much about some hot button political or religious issue that you just HAVE to send it to everyone you know. From here on out, I'm calling them IVCs -- short for INCENDIARY VIRAL CRAP.

This relative has sent me a few of these in the past few weeks. The latest caused me to write this post.

The IVC in question has a subject of "The New Dollar -- Don't Accept These". I knew just looking at the subject I WAS going to be pissed but not because of the warning or advice inside the IVC. I opened it and yes, it made FALSE claims about how the new U.S. dollar coin does NOT feature "In God We Trust".

Now, as I usually do with IVCs, I headed straight to SNOPES.COM (which I've advised this person to do on NUMEROUS occasions) to find out the truth. AND AS USUAL, the email was complete BS. "In God We Trust" IS STILL FEATURED on the coin. It's just on the side of the coin now so it's not as predominant.

You know, the Internet can help us enlighten ourselves and be this great expanse of knowledge for our benefit. OR it can be a vehicle for hatemongering, ill-informed word vomit that drags us into the pit of idiocracy.

I mean really people, don't we have much more to worry about than what is printed on our money? And I know the arguments, "This country was founded on God.", "Our forefathers meant for it to be that way", "The majority of our country is Christian, so shouldn't it represent the majority because majority rules?" HOW ABOUT THIS? I think our money should say, "Cash rules everything around me" because it's appropriate for every American, including myself. We can't live without it, we can't survive without it. Don't even try to fool yourself for one moment by thinking otherwise. Even if you live simply, there's always someone to pay for the shelter you reside in, the clothes on your back or even the materials used to make them or the car you drive to work, etc.

So if you're looking for truth, how about telling it like it is? Say it with me, CASH RULES EVERYTHING AROUND ME. I guess it's just easier for people to just forward the email instead of questioning its ligitimacy and finding the truth.

Whew. Did I just contribute to the flame? Probably and for that I apologize.

NOTE: Isn't lovely that Ann Coulter comes up as a link in the Free Dictionary's definition page of hatemonger?

ANOTHER NOTE: The argument about "our forefathers wanted it that way" is incorrect. In 1956, Congress changed the motto to "In God We Trust". The original motto, "E Pluribus Unum" is Latin for "Out of many, one".

Feelin' Un-Mommy like

When I came home today, I was SO happy to see lil' Monkey. Even though I was only gone for two and half days, I really missed him. However, while I was away, I partied like a non-Mommy (the wedding was open bar so you do the math). It was fun to dance and whoop it up with my cousins because let's face it, that's probably the closest I'll come to my clubbing days ever again. Of course, I was the only one partying that needed to stop periodically to pump and dump (special thanks to the wedding planner who let me use the office at the reception hall). So when we arrived home and it was my time to take over the baby responsibilites, I felt very out of place at first. Could I remember how to DO THIS? Did Monkey still love his mama? He was definitely a little apprehensive at first, perhaps because I was too. We'd smile at each other but something was definitely OFF. It took a little while I think for both of us to get back into our groove.

Still there were days even before I left this past weekend that I just didn't feel like a mommy. Almost as if I were pretending. I felt this way at my first "dress up" job as well -- as though I were wearing my mother's suit and heels and playing office. Somedays I either couldn't believe the amount of responsibility or begrudingly accept whatever I had to do. I didn't want to pump before going to bed, I'd think, "I WANT TO SURF FOR SHOES!" I didn't want to get up at 6 am when Monkey got up (of course, I did). I'd feel like the world was going to end or social services would come because I forgot his gloves and a good mommy, one that wasn't pretending to be a mommy, wouldn't have forgotten!

But as it turns out, I'm not the only one. Thank God.

Gray Matter Matters has an excellent post on her site about how sometimes she feels like a "Poodle in a tutu". This was her analogy to how she doesn't always FEEL like a mommy.

I'm so glad I'm not the only one and that post came just at the right time.

SIDENOTE: Seems like I always get an appropriate song in my head after posts like this ...

And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!

Blogs as Journals and Litmus Tests

I used to think blogging was for megalomaniacs who think the world is interested in what they have to say (please, read the rest and save the hate mail), but now I realize that it's a journal for most people and way of creating a community of people with common interests. It can also be a cathartic means of dealing with today's rat race and bouncing your thoughts around as a litmus test for sanity. Or at least it will be for me.

According to Merriam-Webster, journal is defined as:

Main Entry: jour·nal Pronunciation: 'j&r-n&l
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, service book containing the day hours, from Anglo-French jurnal,jurnal, adjective, daily, from Latin diurnalis, from diurnus of the day, from dies day -- more at DEITY
1 a : a record of current transactions; especially : a book of original entry in double-entry bookkeeping b : an account of day-to-day events c : a record of experiences, ideas, or reflections kept regularly for private use d : a record of transactions kept by a deliberative or legislative body e : LOG 3 f : LOG 4
2 a : a daily newspaper b : a periodical dealing especially with matters of current interest
3 : the part of a rotating shaft, axle, roll, or spindle that turns in a bearing

So although a personal journal is private (see dictionary entry "1c" above), written on paper, perhaps in a book-like format, a blog is none of these. And since this blog will be primarily used to keep family and friends updated on our lil' monkey and mommy's sanity pH levels, we'll say this blog fits definition 2b ("of current interest" to myself and perhaps those wanting to know those little baby details). I hate actually writing with pen and paper now (my handwriting has deteriorated since college into scrawl) and I can attach pictures to this thing to illustrate points (something I can't say I'd do in a written journal). So why keep a traditional journal? This will hopefully be much more fun.

Okay enough self-reflection for the day. Take care everyone.