We don't live in Missouri

I know I have been such a slacker with this blog lately. In my defense, we were sick for most of this past month and, prior to that, I was working my ass off in photography gigs and Avon. Something had to give. It was either the blog or feeding the kids.


CPS kind of scares me, with my history as a social worker and all, so the blog lost. Sorry folks, some things have to be done.


But, I HAVE to update it tonight. Because, if I don't, I will kick myself fifteen years from now when I am trying to remember the following conversation and won't be able to recall it correctly. And, honestly, this is something for the books.


I had a photo shoot scheduled this afternoon. It was a quickly thrown together one, since mom called me on Saturday, gushing that she HAD to get her son's senior pictures taken ASAP or he wouldn't be in the year book. Of course, he could only do it right after school this afternoon only. I explained I would have my boys with me and, as long as she didn't mind that, I could do it. She happily agreed and the appointment was set. Keeping my kids and the shoot in mind, I chose two parks to shoot in. Both have playgrounds nearby that the boys could play at while I was shooting the big kid. I waited until this afternoon to tell the boys they would, for the first time ever, get to come on a shoot with me (they always want to go with me, but never want to sit for me themselves. Typical.) and that it was going to be at a park. They were ecstatic, of course and couldn't wait to get ready to go. I bundled them up carefully because it is damn cold outside and, as you all know, the wind never freaking stops blowing in South Dakota. It's nice in the summer, but in the winter, the wind is bitter and biting. I hate it. But, you have read my rants about that, so I won't go there now. All you need to know is that my kids were bundled up big time to keep them warm and cozy while they played and mommy worked.


Once I got them into the truck and buckled into their seats, Bryce began questioning where we were going. I didn't want to confuse him too much, as we had never been to one of the parks we were headed to, so I kept it simple.


"We're actually going to two places. First, we are going to McHardy, and then a new park."


Bryce: "A new park? Where is the new park?"


Me: "I'll show you when we get there. It's pretty cool."


Bryce: "What's it called?"


I sighed, knowing he was going to get confused and prepared to answer the same question over and over again. It's how his mind works, how he figures things out. He asks the same question, with slight variations, repeatedly until something in his brain clicks and he gets it.


"It's called the Big Sioux park."


"Zoo? We are going to the zoo? Hey, Bubba, hear that? Mommy's doing her photo shoot at the zoo!" Brady starts to excitedly chatter about the zoo and going to see the bears first.


Me: "No. No, not the zoo. the Big Ssssssioux. It's right here in Brandon. We aren't going into Sioux Falls today."


Bryce: "Well, where is it? How come we never been there?"


Me: "Because I didn't realize they had a play park there until this weekend. But, they do, so we are going there, too. But first, we are going to the other park."


Bryce: "But, where is the new park? I never seed it before. How do you know where it is? DO they have monkeys there?"


Me: "It's by Ben's school. It's ok, I know where it is. I went there this weekend to check it out with another family for their photo shoot. It's a cool place, you'll like it. But, they don't have monkeys. It isn't a zoo, it's the Big Sioux. No animals ,except maybe a Sandy (squirrels. My kids call all squirrels Sandy thanks to the Spongebob cartoon) or two. That's as exotic as it gets today, honey. But, they do have a big play park you can play on while mommy takes pictures. I want you to play on the play park at both parks while I take pictures, ok? No fighting with Brady, either. Just play nice and we will be done quick." I was already getting tired of his questions and predicted them to never end since he was now hung up on the Big Sioux being a zoo. I knew he would, the words are too similar for his brain to grasp a slight variation in how they sound. It was going to take him seeing the Big Sioux to get it. Until then, I knew the questions would never stop pelting me as his little brain tried to grasp why the zoo and Sioux were not one and the same. He completely surprised me by going on a tangent. This is another cute characteristic of my Love Bugs. He is easily distracted and always has been.


Bryce: "What's the other park we are going to? The one with the bridge?"


Me: "McHardy Park. But, you can't go across the bridge today. I want you to stay on the same side of the river as I am, ok? So, when we get there, don't ask about crossing the bridge. Just stay by the sandbox and swings and play with Bubba, please."


Bryce: "Carney Park?" The image of poorly dressed men and toothless, busty women in rags wandering through McHardy Park and calling it home had me grinning. The city of Brandon would never allow such a thing, which made it all the more funnier.


Me: "Yes, McHardy Park. We are going there first."


Bryce: "Ok. I know where that is. Just follow my erections and I can tell you how to get there."


I lost it then. I couldn't help it. The giggle just erupted from my lips before I could stop it.


Bryce: "No, I really, really know how to get there. I will give you erections and you can drive, ok?"


Full out laughter now. I had to brake in the driveway to control myself before I could even think of driving further. Bryce had no clue what he had said to tickle my funny bone and I wasn't about to clue him in. Once my giggles settled to only occurring once every few minutes, I explained that he could give me d-d-d-die-rections and that would be great. He got it right then, but I giggled the whole rest of the way over to the park. When I got there, of course, I had to call his father.


"Oh, hey babe, just wanted to let you know your son gave me erections to McHardy Park just now."


"Oh, Jesus. Did you tell him we don't live in Missouri and that's more than illegal in all fifty states, but most especially South Dakota?" The giggles started all over again.


Because, even on my craziest days, my guys know how to make me laugh. And I love them even more for that.

School Frustrations

Maybe I should just home school both of them?


I am not sure if it is just that, generally, people are idiots and, in my professional experience, teachers more so? Maybe all those years as a social worker and the many interactions I had with teachers has jaded me.


Here's what's up:


When I went to go school supply shopping a few weeks ago, the store had run out of supply lists for Brandon Elementary. No biggie. I whipped out my new fancy phone and googled "School Supply list for Brandon Valley Elementary in Brandon, SD" and was amazed that the school's site actually had a link to click on for school supply lists. I was more than tickled. Not only did I get to use my phone for actual research that was needed, but I was helping to save a tree or two by not using a paper list. The hippie in me was over joyed. I clicked on the link and then clicked on the word "Kindergarten" and was directed to a list I believed was for supplies required for students in kindergarten at Brandon Valley Elementary in Brandon, SD.


Wrong.


On the first day of school, I quickly discovered that the list I had gone buy to purchase the school supplies belonged to the first grade. Half of the items I had purchased weren't needed and he was in need of additional items, as well.


Ok, mistakes happen. But, I am certainly glad I am not one of those parents who rely on every single dollar from a paycheck to make ends meet. The additional money I had to spend, and the money I wasted on unneeded supplies would have been more than frustrating. Perhaps their IT guy should review his site further before making such changes applicable and public. Just sayin'.


As it is, my biggest irritation was the time and gas I wasted and would have to use more of to get more supplies. But, whatever, I went into town this weekend and got what he needed.


And then, this note was sent home today.


Please send a PLASTIC folder with pockets inside and PRONGS. We have found the paper folders do not fit into their mailbox and they end up ripping because of it. We would like to have prongs so we can add a zippered pocket inside for money to be sent in.


Really? REALLY? Are they kidding me? Yet another supply I wasted money on and have to get different because they don't fit in the mailboxes? How about coming up with a different solution? Like, oh, maybe using their lockers as mailboxes? Or setting the folders on a shelf somewhere, since they are primarily used for notes home and money exchanges. Honestly, sending a classroom of students' parents out to buy one folder that is plastic because the ones we were asked to buy don't work for you is ridiculous. Find a way to make what you have work for you instead of wasting valuable resources (on so many levels) getting something different.


I would like to send this reply back to the teacher, but I won't. Because, hard to believe, I do have a shred of class.


Dear Mrs. Idiot,


Rather than rushing out, wasting gas, money, and time, in getting a new folder, I have trimmed up the folder I originally provided. You are more than welcome to use it. Also, that stack of envelopes in the pocket of the folder with my son's name, your name, his grade and time he attends school? Those are for the money exchanges. You know, like the original way you requested money be exchanged? Now, quit wasting the earth's resources with your petty requests and get down to business and teach my child The Gettysburg Address, or whatever it is kindergartners are learning these days.


Thanks for your appreciation in understanding the other side of sanity,
Mrs. Not wasting precious fossil fuel to run out on your retarded errand.


*sigh* Now I have to go get a frigging plastic folder. Perhaps homeschooling WOULD be cheaper.

Another first day

Today was Bubba's first day of his second year of preschool. As most of you know, he attends the Early Childhood Program through the school district. Most of you also know that I am NOT pleased with this program and, in general, despise any and all associated with it. However, God forbid anyone come back on me to try and say I did not try to give my baby the best start in his education possible, so, I grit my teeth and grin through the idiocrity (yeah, it's a word in the Kama dictionary) and take him. It all started with a request for him to get help with his speech, considering he was two and had yet to speak more than mama and dada as words. He was approved for speech therapy in the home and did amazing. Then, he turned three and had to be retested. Somewhere along the way in that testing, it showed he was so far behind in his educational goals (apparently three year olds need to read, write, multiply, and recite Dickinson prose. Ok, maybe not that much, but there were "concerns". *eye roll*). As a mother, my first meeting with the school to go over the test results was truly a horrible one and has left a lasting impression. To be told by someone who has never met your baby that he "needs a lot of work" and will "probably always need special education", you tend to feel a bit bitter towards the program and its *cough, cough* director. But, I gritted my teeth and grinned through it, though I really wanted to claw the bitch's eyes out for even thinking my baby's name. And, I signed him up.

And, I gotta say, his speech improved drastically, though I credit his awesome speech therapist for that work. The rest? His colors and his shapes and his numbers? I am not sure how much I can credit the school. These are things I worked with him on religiously. The school always seemed surprised at out meetings at how well and how fast he was learning his letters and numbers. They were shocked that, before the shape routine was introduced, he already knew seven of them. This is when I realized they weren't really doing much for him. But, he seemed to enjoy the social interaction with his friends at school, so I kept him there. It wouldn't hurt for him to be with others, after all, and if he happened to learn a new color or how to write his name (haha), all the better. He went all summer and has had the last month off. He has had the same teacher all year.


Until now.

Let me explain a little something about my Bubba. He doesn't like change.

At.

All.

This characteristic of his can be challenging, but is manageable. I introduce things slowly. Show it to him, and then deal with the "I hate that, I don't want to do that, I am not doing that" statements made in between growls. Pull the change back for a while and then introduce it again. It takes several attempts at me introducing change and pulling back again before it's accepted without an explosion of emotions that are difficult for me to overlook and exhausting for Bubba to go through. I don't like to set him up for failure, so we use this technique anytime a change will happen in his life and it works for us.

And then . . . then, I got a letter in the mail from the Early Childhood program. "Brady has a new teacher this year!" it read. I groaned inwardly. This was going to be difficult. Brady loved Miss Julie, his teacher from last year and this summer. LOVED her. In fact, whenever I mentioned school starting up for him soon, he would smile widely and ask "Miss Juwie? Me wuf Miss Juwie!" And now, the school went and changed things up on me.

I began by casually mentioning he was going to have a new teacher this year, like big brother, Bryce.

"No. Me hate new teeshure. Me wuf Juwie." *sigh* I waited a few days before mentioning it again.

"Oh, Bubba, you get to go to big boy school again and you get to have a new teacher this year, just like Brycie! Her name will be Miss Sellars!"

"No. Me hate Miss Sewars. Me hate new teeshure. Me want Miss Juwie." *sigh* And so it went, every couple of days, me mentioning his new teacher, him telling me he hated her. Last week, I asked him not to use the word hate.

"It's a pretty strong word, Bubbs. And I don't think you really hate her. She might cry if you say that." This got him thinking. He paused, put his finger on his chin as he so often does when he pretends to be deep in thought and replied, "Me hate dat teetshure. Me want Miss Juwie." Argh.

This morning was met with much trepidation. I was worried about how he would react. Would there be hitting and kicking or just spitting today? I was dreading leaving him. Bubba has this cry that . . . absolutely breaks my heart. It shatters me when I hear it and I can only do what I can as fast as I can to make his world a better place. His big green eyes well with huge tears that drop slowly down his face and his soulful moaning completely tears at my soul.

Yeah, he has me wrapped around his little finger and he knows it. And I know it. But that cry . . . I can't resist that cry. It's against every fiber of the mother code in me.

And I was waiting for that cry this morning. Prepared to rescue him, yell at the school that it was all their fault my baby was mourning Miss Julie, who was right next door, and whisk him dramatically out of the room.

We all know I *can* be dramatic.

But, Bubba surprised the heck out of me this morning. When we entered the classroom, there was only one other student in there with her mama. I snapped a few pictures of the Bubbs playing and then waited with him for his teacher, who was waiting for the school bussed kids outside, to come into the room. I didn't say one word about having a new teacher. We played with a shape puzzle and I reviewed his numbers to ten with him on the hopscotch drawing on the floor. Finally, his teacher came in, hurriedly introducing herself and the other students, who all knew each other from last year and the summer, and got everyone situated with an activity. Bubba eyed her up and down briefly, before returning to his puzzle, feeling safe as long as I sat near him.

And then, Miss Gayle came in.

Miss Gayle is the playground monitor and bus helper. She is loud and boisterous and energetic and happy. She burst into the room and swept Bubba up into a big hug.

"Brady! I didn't get to see you all summer! I missed you!" Bubba squeezed Miss Gayle back energetically.

"Miss Gawell! Miss Gawell! Me miss you!" Miss Gayle set him down and let him return to his puzzle, but she stayed to say hello to a few of the other students. I took a chance and held my breath briefly before standing up.

"Ok, Bubba, mama has to go. That's your new teacher, Miss Sellars." I pointed to his teacher. "If you need anything, you ask her or Miss Gayle, ok?" Bubba looked up at me with his big green eyes. He looked at me carefully, as if he were considering what to do. And then, he puckered his lips for a kiss and raised his arms for a hug. I breathed a sigh of relief. This meant no tantrum. He was willing to say goodbye without tears. Maybe my baby was growing up after all. I hugged and kissed him goodbye and left the building, my throat feeling tight on the walk home. Two babies in school.

Where has the time gone?

He's gone . . .

I have been dreading this day for a very, very long time.

I realized it was getting closer in May when I attended his preschool graduation.

And now, the day is here.

My baby, my sweet and innocent, beautiful baby is officially a kindergartener. And I hate it.

I keep thinking back to the very first day he was home with me. I was sitting in my recliner, gazing down at this magnificent creature in awe. I had made him. All by myself (well, with a minor assistance from his father. But seriously, the microscopic assistance Travis offered is nothing compared to the work I did.). And I did a fabulous job, if I do say so myself. He was perfect and beautiful in each and every way I had ever imagined one of my babies would be. I dreamed of his life as I sat there gazing at his sweet puckered mouth, his insanely long lashes resting on his cheek in sleep, and sighed. School seemed like such a long way away. I had five years, after all, and that is a long time!

His first night home. So tiny. So innocent. So . . . yellow. (jaundice)

Two months old. This has always been a favorite picture of mine.

He was a smiley, happy baby. Always giggling. I still love his giggle.

My lil chunky monkey learning to crawl.

No.

Five years is not a long time.

It goes by in the blink of an eye.

Bryce has been eager for this day all summer. He woke up early and dressed himself in a mismatched outfit. He sat at the patio doors while I struggled to wake up with the world's strongest cup of coffee. I wasn't as eager as he to start this day. He began to dance around and complain loudly when the school buses began to arrive at eight o'clock. I gently reminded him that his day didn't start until 12:10 (thank God!) And so, he sat.

And waited.

Impatiently asking me what time it was every few minutes.

At eleven, I fed him lunch.

At eleven thirty, I got him dressed.

At eleven forty-five, I carefully washed his face, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair just right.

At eleven fifty., I took him outside and had him pose for some pictures. He complained a bit, so excited to walk across the parking lot to his new school, his new teacher, his new friends, his new life.

See? Not happy with having to pose. It's tough being a photographer's kid.

At noon, we walked across the parking lot. More pictures. More posing. More complaints. We walked into the school at five after Noon. He posed with his teacher, with his locker, and next to his table. I put his things away for him. My lips quivered as they smiled. My throat felt tight and my head was starting to pound. Bryce stood up on his tip toes to kiss me goodbye, his strong boy arms grasping my neck in a tight hug.


I hate this fake smile of his. I have seen it a lot lately.



"Love you, Mama. To the moon and back," he whispered into my hair. I gulped back the sob and squeezed him close, inhaling his little boy scent that only belongs to him.

"I love you too, Buggie." I choked and stood up as he turned away from me. He high fived his dad before leaning up for the kiss. He even hugged his brother good bye. And then . . . he walked away.

I can't handle this part.

I turned from the classroom blindly, unable to hold it together anymore and not wanting to embarrass myself in front of the class, the school, the parents and teachers, everyone. But, mostly, I didn't want Bryce to see me upset. He was so excited. He was so happy. I didn't want to ruin his moment. But, I had to stop. Someone else had beat me to the tears and sobbing.

Bubba.

He didn't want to leave his brother. "Come home wis me, come pway wis me," he wailed. I scooped him up in my arms and rested my cheek next to his and rushed out of the school, the tears freely flowing, my confused husband following in my wake. I didn't make it into the house. I gave Bubba to Travis and pushed them inside and collapsed into the chair in my garage and attempted to get control of myself.

It took a while. Images of the beautiful newborn, a chubby toddler, toothless grins, and high pitched giggles kept assaulting me. It was a good ten minutes before I calmed down enough to present myself in front of others. Trav just watched me sympathetically as I walked into the house. I poured myself a soda and sat on the couch. He knew better than to ask me if I felt better. He knew better than to ask what was wrong. He just held me and stroked my back and kissed my hair. And that's what I needed.

Because then . . . then, I felt stupid. I felt dumb falling apart like that. After all, it's just kindergarten, right? It's not like he is never coming home.

It just means he is growing up. I wasn't ready for it. But, now that I have dipped my toes in the water, I am starting to warm up. It will be fine, I know it.

Don't talk to me in two years, though. When it's Bubba's turn, it's gonna take me much, much longer to recover.

Mrs. Huska, Bryce's teacher.

What goes up . . .

Having just come in from the swimming pool in the backyard, Bryce got naked (surprise, I know), grabbed his blankie, and came to sit next to me in my chair. He kept fidgeting around and I asked him what was wrong.




Bryce: My peepee is huge and I can't make it go down.


Me: Ummmmm . . . Trav? This one's all you, babe.


Trav: What's wrong, buddy?


Bryce: *takes off blanket to show us and sighs dramatically* SEE?? It's just full of pee.


Trav: Well, go potty. That's your pee indicator. When the tank is full, the needle goes straight up.


Bryce: Oh, ok. *hops down to head to the potty*




Seriously, I do not get this Y chromosome.

It's heavy, but I still want to share

I have been reading this book called The Secret for quite some time now. (It's really a quick read, but I like to ponder and meditate on several of the issues brought up in the book.) I have also watched the movie and LOVE it! Basically, it is an awesome positive thinking book that helps me understand how things work and fills in a lot of gaps I have in the whole huge realm of religion. It teaches that thinking positive, being grateful and appreciative for what you have and who you are RIGHT NOW will open more doors of good things for you in your future. This is an awesome concept for me and, it has been working. I feel better about myself and good things DO happen to me. Everyday. Bad things happen too, but, well, read the book and you'll understand.




Now, I am not saying this is the end all be all for you religious zealots out there. What I AM saying is that I have questions. Lots and lots of questions. I am a firm believer in evolution. The scientist in me just can not deny that things have changed and evolved over the centuries and eons of time. I am also a firm believer in the Big Bang Theory. However, I also believe in God, Buddha, Jesus Christ, and Mother Nature. And now, The Universe. How much they all have to do with everything is where my questions come into play. Do they work together? Is there one big boss and the others are just the worker bees?




Now, if you are gung ho in your beliefs, more power to you. However, I will ask you this . . . how can you be sure YOU are right? What makes YOU more right over anyone else? There are hundreds of THOUSANDS of religions in existence (more, if you take into account the Native American religions). How are you SO sure that YOU are right and they aren't? And, what if you are wrong? Then what? These are just a few of the many, many questions I have. Now, if you have answered these questions for yourself and are happy where you are in your journey, more power to you. I, however, am not satisfied with the answers I have seen and heard out there. And so, I research. It's one of the things in this world I am awesome at.




This book, The Secret, has explained much to me. It has also pushed me into further research and helped me to develop my own beliefs and religion of sorts I like to call is Kama-ism. It is my own unique religion. Many people have a difficult time with the fact that I am not showing up bright and early on a Sunday morning in a building where one person tells me all about what he or she believes and demeans me into thinking if I don't believe the same, I am somewhat less of a person. If I do go, they are ok with that. No matter which one I choose, as long as I go. It's like a brainwashing sort of mentality that is all the more accepted because SO MANY of you believe the same thing. But, if I don't go, I am damned to hell. For you Christians out there, how is this ok with you? The Bible teaches that God is a gracious and forgiving God. After all, he sacrificed his SON for the sins of the world, so that they may all be forgiven. And yet, if I don't show up at 8 AM every week, I am going to hell? Thinking such as this is what initially made my brain start working.




And please, please don't comment on how much better your religion yours is than others or try to convert me. I am happy (truly, I am!) that you are content with where you are. I, however, am still on my own journey. Leave me alone and let me travel. Better people have tried to sway me. And yet, the unanswered questions are still there, so it doesn't work for me.




So, now that you know a bit of my background when it comes to the whole religion thing, back to The Secret. It is an awesome book. The movie is even better. I love the sense of peace it brings me, the hope that resides in my heart when I finish a chapter. And, I wanted to share a small piece of the hope and peace I feel.




Here's a dose of daily inspiration:

Whatever you choose for You is right! You cannot get it wrong. If You have chosen something for You, it is right! It is impossible for you to fail, because how can you fail at being You? You are the perfection of You because nobody else can be You! You have got You down pat! Do you appreciate that you are an outstanding and total success at being You, right where you are now?

Now, go forth and be happy with who you are and where you are right now. Because it could be worse. Much, much worse.

Kicking ass and taking names

So, I haven't slept, really, in about four months. All I do all night, every night, is sit in my garage with my laptop, trying to be quiet so everyone else can sleep. I start out in bed and then, after a few hours of restlessly staring at my ceiling, I give up and come out to the garage. Only to spend the next day exhausted and lacking motivation. Occasionally, I sleep a few hours at a time, giving me enough energy to get through the day and get things done. But, I haven't been my typical OCD self in the clean household department and it has been making me a wee bit (ok, a lot) crazy.


Until last night.


Until today.




Yesterday, I was exhausted We are talking, head in quick sand all day kind of feeling. And, I had a migraine. I also had a photo shoot in the billion percent humidity right next to a lake. It was pretty and the shoot went well, but my head pounded through the whole thing. By the time I got home, I was completely useless. I could barely move from the couch and felt like throwing up. It sucked. So, I laid my head down on the cool microfiber of the sofa and . . . FELL ASLEEP! I fell asleep at nine o'clock at night. This has not happened in, well, four months. Not only did I fall asleep, but, I slept through Trav bathing and getting the boys ready for bed. I slept through him leaving to go to work (they are having a virus outbreak and he has been gone most of the weekend) and I awoke at midnight only to go potty and move to my bed. I didn't become conscious again until ten o'clock this morning.


If you did the math right, that's thirteen hours. THIRTEEN HOURS!!!! I haven't slept that much since before I became a mother.


And, it felt fabulous.


It felt divine.


I felt like a whole new person.


Almost like my old self again.


So, I attacked my house. With a vengeance. And finally, FINALLY, I have law and order in my household once again. And it feels peaceful and blissful and all sorts of full words that are good. And, I swear, I SWEAR, if I don't sleep again tonight, I may very well cry.

AC update

Yeah, I need a new one. The something or other blew up, I have burnt wires, and the compressor is toast. Thankfully, my hero was able to put a thing a majiggee on it to force it to work temporarily until my new one is installed on Tuesday.


Thank God for savings accounts.

I LOVE SUMMER!

But, I hate the heat.


Not really the heat so much as the humidity. And, generally, it is quite tolerable. I enjoy hanging at the pool, sitting under the sprinkler, whatever summertime activities I do to keep cool, I love them.


Why?


Because, no matter how hot I get outside, I can go INSIDE to get cool.


Except for today.


It has been humid all day, so humid that a mist formed across the fields around my house at dusk. So humid I feel like I am drinking my air. Which would be fine, on any given day.



Except for today.


And, it was eighty degrees today. Eighty is a good number. A nice, round number. A perfect summer day number.


But, not today.


Why, you may ask, is today so different than any other day?


Because, my AC went out. And the repairman can't get here until the morning. Sure, he would have been happy to come out tonight, had I been willing to shell out $250 for him just to come look at the damn thing. So, yeah, I am waiting until the morning. Because I am cheap like that. In the meantime, I feel like I am living in hell on earth, but wetter.


And, it sucks. But not as bad as it would if there were a blizzard raging outside. Because, you all know, I hate the cold far more than I hate the heat. So, I am suffering in silence. (Well, you all get to hear about it, but you really aren't listening to the whining going on in my head right now, be grateful. Be very grateful. I whine A LOT when I am overheated. And it's a bitchy whine. Not fun.)