My thoughts were so irrational. I was happy that my Prozac cocktail kicked in to shut me the hell up.

(Let me prelude this story by saying that everyone is fine--physically.  Of course there is a mother in Newton with frazzled nerves that can only be soothed with vodka.)

Rachel climbed up the stairs again right after she got dressed this morning.  I am not sure if she wanted to come upstairs to coax Laurel out of bed or just felt the need to climb...again.  She has no fear while climbing and jumping off of everything.  This lack of fear eats at my stomach lining everyday.  But this same lack of fear gives her a sense of pride that lights up her face.  (Really, Rachel does smile.)

As she was at the top step, she was holding this little basket full of kid treasures which I would deem as crap--random broken crayons, a mini book, and some sort of toy called a Zooble.  I was two steps behind Rachel as she lost her balance.  There are thirteen hardwood stairs that descend from our second floor to the dining room.  Laurel and I watched her tumble down all thirteen.   As she went head over foot and a sideways skid, her basket of crap went flying too.  I couldn't get to her.  I remained two steps behind, making odd guttural noises as she fell.  This was the longest couple of seconds and I was hoping all her delicious padding would break the fall.

When she reached the bottom, she screamed.  I knew her scream wasn't out of pain but more of a "what the hell was that?"  Ching picked her up.  As I got to her, I can't even put my feeling into a word.  I just felt shitty..and I was shaking.  There you go..shitty and shaking.   Immediately I wanted to go to my safe spot.  I wanted to place blame on Ching.  This was totally unreasonable on my part.  He was in the other room and I was with Rachel--this was not good.  But then my mind went to why he wasn't at the bottom of the stairs fast enough while she fell?  My thoughts were so irrational.  I was happy that my Prozac cocktail kicked in to shut me the hell up.

I immediately took her from Ching and needed to hold her.  I silently apologized to her and she seemed to sense something.  She stopped crying after 20 seconds but then started to milk this one.  With a whine and a pointy finger she demanded sugary dry cereal with a milk cup.  She wanted to be wrapped in her blankie and watching t.v.  As she looked at me, I felt the need to write her a check for $500 but then realized I was imagining things.

I felt terrible all morning.  I could see her tumble replay in mind.  But then I told myself that she was fine and to realize how lucky I was.  I was not lucky because of the isolated incident turning out okay.  I was lucky because I very rarely face incidents like this when I want to trade places with my children.  They are healthy and don't have to struggle.  I need to toughen the freak up.

After work I wanted to take a Goddamn ax to those stairs.  Rachel wanted to climb them.

Sometimes I say no and mean it.

I did not want to go home tonight.  Every now and then when I stay late at work, someone will ask, "What are you doing here?  Don't you want to go home to your family?"  Sometimes I say no and mean it.  If someone had asked me this question tonight, I would have answered in the bad mom way.  But I couldn't stay late.  I had to skulk out at 5:00 on the dot to do a pick up of both Laurel and Rachel.

Tonight Ching had a work happy hour event and right after he was going to tennis.  (I don't know if I told you but Ching plays tennis on Thursday nights)  So it is going to be the girls and me for pick up, dinner, shower/bath and bed.  2 vs. 1.  There is a sliver of me that is literally quaking (and thirsty for Absolut Citron, neat).

If this morning was a snapshot of what tonight may be like, I am seriously screwed.  While Laurel loves camp, this first week has kicked her in the butt.  She is exhausted.  Every other word that she used this morning had a whine to it and a random pout.  And Rachel can always smell my fear. Sometimes I swear that I will turn the corner and find her rubbing her hands together like a bandit of the Old West.  She is gearing up for the terrible two stage like she is going to win an award for the best example.

Both eat very little at dinner.  Probably because they vacuumed down snacks as soon as we walked through the door.  Honestly I don't care.  I have to get to bathing them.

Rachel likes to watch Laurel take a shower and is so mystified that she is a little freaked out.  As a toddler, all she can see is naked Laurel in a rainy box.  She starts to cry while Laurel is yelling "Is all the shampoo out?" while her hair is still full of suds.  ("Laurel you must get under the water to rinse.  No, stand up straight.  You just have your butt in the water stream. Yes, I will get a wash cloth for your eyes")  With no Ching,  Rachel isn't distracted...but we get through.  Time for Rachel's bath while Laurel watches t.v. (oh..thank the Lord for t.v.)  Rachel gets in the bathtub and I pray that she has pooped today.  But for good measure, this is a quick bath..but not quick enough for her to take three sips of bath water and eat soap.

As they go to bed...I want to go to bed too and I will leave my night at that.

As a post script, I truly believe I am going crazy but in a good, creative way.  (It's not like I am going to cut my ear off.)  As I was making the girls dinner, I came up with a limerick--yeah, I know. 

In Newton, there is a motherly chick,

Who threw herself into snarky schtick.

Always tired

But always inspired

For writing, rolling her eyes and saying, Ridic!

But Laurel was a champ, not even flinching at the word poop.

I can't go tomorrow.  I just don't have it in me.  And it's another time of the month--work.  I have a ton of month end crap at work to complete.

I didn't even give them 24 hours notice.  I know that is bad, but, freak it, I need to do it.  I am postponing my pap smear.  I KNOW (Mom)!  I should go but I just don't want to have my va-jay, up in the air, al fresco and making pleasant small talk.  I got married to avoid this shit.

• I don't want to answer the question of wine consumption.  I will lie and say 1-2 glasses a week, when we all know that it is almost daily.  
• I exercise but still have a love for mayo and bacon (of as I say, meat candy and dipping sauce).  
• I don't want to groom or worry about feeling fresh.  (That was the awesome part about giving birth.  At 40 weeks, you so got a pass on that one.)

My last visit to my doctor was my six week check up after Rachel was born.  Laurel wasn't in pre-school due to a break and it was too hot to play outside.  While my appointment seemed like an odd outing, I took her with me (while Aunt Angela and Uncle Ming-Luh stayed with Rachel.)  I wasn't sure how this visit was going to go but I explained why Mommy was going to the doctor's---I had a boo boo on my va-jay jay. It was totally normal for all mommies to have this after bringing a little brother or sister into the world.  I told her that I needed to answer questions and speak to the doctor to feel better.  And to be extra careful, I bribed her with a donut.  Laurel was so amazing during this visit, practicing writing letters in her little Blue's Clues pad.  My doctor was a little freaked (unspoken) that Laurel was there.  But Laurel was a champ, not even flinching at the word poop.

Selfishly, I want to run at lunch. (During the past few days, I have felt a little fat.) I don't want to feel like I am getting a tune-up.

Consider this a belated birthday gift to myself.  But my gift to my family will be another appointment very soon. Really...I am not joking...

Do you want some of my Poise Pads? (Yeah, I God damn went there...)

Good Lord..what a long day.

Let me tell you about my husband's love of paper towels.  I know, it does sound ridiculous but I swear, if he had an affair, it would be with Rosie, the Quicker Picker Upper Lady.  (For you young kids---In the late 70's, early '80's, the older woman that represented Bounty...was the Quicker Picker Upper, a dowdy woman that could wipe up anything with a Bounty Paper Towel.  As a child, this sounded benign.  As an adult...not so much.)

I have this image of Ching, in a Chinese speaking household in Minnesota, watching daytime TV.  (Think of the late mouth kisser Richard Dawson or uber tan Bob Barker--was this his family's version of the American population?)  Ching, so impressionalbe, saw Rosie on a commercial, wiping up any greasy diner mess.  This really made an impression...)

When our water heater broke and started leaking in 2005, he thought that nine pack of Bounty would save the day.  It didn't...The Wangs now own a Wet-Vac.

If Ching wants to blow his nose with a paper towel, he won't use the whole sheet.  He will rip it, in half and use, only one half.  The other half remains crumpled on the counter.  (What the freakin' hell am I suppose to do with this?)

On Sunday (my birthday, people!), there was something funky with the air handeler in the attic.  It was leaking, in such a minor way.  Ching went up to check, accidently kicked a pipe..but then came back downstairs.  The leaking was then worse than my heaviest of days.  On Sunday morning, Ching went back up into the attic to check.
"Jude---I need all the paper towels that we have!"
"(Oh Ridic!)  Ching, we have 1 roll."
"Are you freakin' kidding me?  You just went grocery shopping and we only have one roll?"
"Look...(it was my 40th b-day and I wasn't going to take any shit)...I go shopping every God damn week..for about 50 weeks in a row, 1 role was just fine.  Do you want some of my Poise Pads?  (Yeah, I God damn went there..,)
"Would you take the girls to get more paper towels?"
"I will.."  (as I rustle up the girls..)
In the attic, Ching used my original role and maybe another half.  I now have five rolls jammed in my pantry.  (Ching realized that paper towels were not the trick to the job.)

Is it bad to have the idea to go to Taiwan and sell paper towels as the next best thing?  I am sure they are past paper towels and, like me, and just like Lysol Wipes.

If I ever meet this girl, I might have to punch her in the neck.

Laurel was singing that song.  Every summer there is one that sticks and will not escape.  Last year it was that Katy Perry's Last Friday Night. The year before another Katy Perry: California Girls (and Russell Brand went where?)  This year, it's that Carly Rae Jepson song. I swear to God, if I ever meet this girl, I might have to punch her in the neck.

It's not about the sheer insipidness of the song or the fact that she sounds like a chipmunk.  I don't like the message that it is sending to Laurel.  Granted, my tirade is also after an incident that happened yesterday.  Laurel and I went to her summer camp open house.  It was chance for her to see the place prior to the first day, meet councilors and other kids.  All of a sudden, Laurel's breath sucked in and she squeals. (I kind of thought she got stung by a bee.)  From a distance, Laurel sees Paul.  Of all the overpriced summer camps in the area, this kid is at the same one as Laurel.  (Poor kid..him, not her.)  I look at her, and at first, I think she is going to pee her pants.  I tell her to go so say hi, be friendly (but I then I secretly say "and don't act like a stalker..")  She tells me that she can't..she absolutely couldn't do anything like that.

Oh my God..then I hear those freakin' lyrics.."Here's my number..call me, maybe."  Maybe?  You give a guy your number and then you shoot yourself down?  Do you giggle with your hand in front of your mouth so he can't see your teeth, too?  Ridic!!

"Beg, borrow and steal because at first sight, it's real"  I believe in attraction..but have some pride, sister.

"Hard to look right at you baby."  Sounds like self esteem issues to me...whatever, but he is so going to take advantage of that.

Laurel did not go over and say hello and I didn't push.  I instantly want to make her know but this realization may take years.  Laurel does not understand, at six, that it is okay to own it--to believe in yourself and just say hi.  And (in many, many years) ask a guy out maybe for coffee, dinner, drinks, whatever.  I hope that I can teach her that taking command of a social situation is okay.  If she follows my footsteps, she might not  go out much if she doesn't.

I feel good and young...regardless if my boobs and bellybutton look crappy and old.

I woke up at 4:32 this morning and immediately realized that I was now 40.  I was okay with this and I rolled  over and went back to sleep.

I don't have anything profound to say.  I do have to admit that saying "I am 40" out loud sounds very, very strange.  Kind of like when I became engaged and had to introduce Ching as my fiance or, hell, just saying his name.  But I got used to it.  I feel good and young...regardless if my boobs and bellybutton look crappy and old.  (I might address that lift and tuck at 45.)

I do have some goals that I would like to complete in my 40's:

My blog--I need it to go big time.  I really enjoy writing it and I want to share it with the world.  If Bethenny Frankel can become famous from crappy "lite liquor" in a bottle and get her own talk show, why can I not do the same?  Granted, I can't do reality tv.  The combination of my love of drink and a touch of cray-cray would not be good.  Good television for the masses but I don't think I could show my face at any family functions.

Trendsetter?  I started to use the word "ridic" and I think it could be "the" word to use.  It is short for ridiculous but it's more fun to say--simply pronounced "RIDIK", the with the second syllable stressed.  It was between that and "Holy Christ on Crutches".  I don't want Laurel to say HCoC yet so therefore, I went with my second choice.  I truly think I could make this happen.

I need to focus on my friends because they truly make me feel good about myself so by extension, I guess, I am taking better care of myself.  I have friend in Connecticut (with a pool) that I haven't seen in six years!  And live less than 2 hours away. Absolutely ridic!  (See how easy that was?)  I become so focused in my routine and fearful of not getting things done that when I hear from friends, I am truly happy.  Yeah, more of that..less crapola weekend tasks on the list.

This decade, for me, is going to be so important in regards to my girls, my jewels.  They are at that age when I can share a lot and they will listen (most of the time) and enjoy my company.  When I turn 50, one will be 16 and the other, 12...I believe I should live it up now.

I would like to get back into cooking.  There have been too many dinners when I make a side that was previously in a canister or frozen.  And Rachel actually likes all sorts of different foods...Laurel, still, not so much.

That's it for now..small steps.

(I have been asked what Ching ended giving me on my birthday.  True to form, it was a piece of David Yurman jewelry--Laurel picked it out.  It is a necklace with a pave diamond pattern.  I felt closer to her when she gave it to me.  Between the two items that Ching had her choose from, she chose the piece that was more sparkly!  But I do have to admit, my favorite gift was from my sister Jess (and her family--but she did all the work)  She took 43 of my blog entries, organized it by chapters and had it bound in hard cover!  That's right JCW---hardcover!)

I am starting to wonder if I actually peaked at 9

When I turned 10, I thought it was cool just to be a double digit age.  When I turned 20, I didn't even notice.  Because I wasn't 21, my 20th came and went without any hoopla.  When I turned 30, I was in a combination whirlwind of scary and exciting.  Ching and I had just gotten engaged, he graduated and was finally moving back to Boston.   I was packing up my stuff, giving up my single girl apartment to move in with my man CCW.  So my 30th birthday garnered little to no attention.

Over the past few weeks leading up to turning 40, I can't help but take an inventory of the past three decades.  I am starting to wonder if I actually peaked at 9 because during my childhood, I accomplished a boat load--learned how to walk, talk, read, write, poo on the potty, etc.  That is pretty serious stuff.  Other than my Sally Jessy Raphael days that made me feel great, the majority of my teen years were full of angst, moodiness and leaky tampon accidents.  My twenties had too many ups and downs to count and of course coupled with that inner voice that just kept saying, "Land a man before your ovaries dry up".  (Thankfully Ching came by just in time and he couldn't sense my desperation.)  And in my 30's...I did land that man and gave exquisite uterus, not once but twice.

But this one, turning 40--I don't know how I feel.  I keep telling myself not to be disappointed.   I am not going to wake up wiser or more attractive.  But I do try to relish that fact that I kind of feel at peace.  This is the first major birthday when there isn't something that I am trying to chase.  And I am hoping to be okay with that...

During the weekend, I would rather not blow..anything.

Are you doing anything fun this weekend?  When I am asked this question, my first thought is:  "Well, this depends what you think is fun...."  Every Friday, this is a nice question to be asked but depending on who is asking, my expectations are not that high.  I wish I could say that I am jetting off to Vegas, wearing some awesome fake lashes and dancing at the Marquee.  But I don't..because by Friday afternoon, I usually have a list.  I have things to do people!

My weekends are more like playing catch up from the previous week and preparing for the next rather than blowing off steam.  During the weekend, I would rather not blow..anything.  Last weekend, the Wangs went to Maine for an overnight.  My mom prepared a glorious party for a my family but just the overnight threw me off for the next five days.  Regardless of the trip, I will start by packing the girls' stuff and my own.  Ching will put some of his stuff together but I will always double check.  (I did get a early b-day gift from the sarcasm fairy.  While getting some clothes together, Ching complained that he needed new golf shirts.  None of his old ones fit..because "he has become burley."  "Was that girly, Ching?"  Too easy...)  Where ever we are, Rachel doesn't sleep well so the night isn't great.  Then on Sunday, even at 8:00 in the morning, I am itching to leave because what I have to do when I get back home.  The basic tasks are just a few loads of laundry and grocery shopping.  While getting home at 3:00 in the afternoon, the shopping was complete.  The laundry was technically done, folded but not put away.  So all week, I was digging through these three baskets.  (Don't freakin' ask why it couldn't be put away during the week.)  My JCW mojo was so off..I was limping to the end of the week.

What makes a good weekend has nothing to do with "young person ruckus".  I just want the basic tasks done off my list.  I would like to spend time with my girls so I don't just feel like the Wang family maid.  I like to write too..just to get a jump on the blog for the next week.  Perhaps get some rest...and some chardonnay that is painfully cold.

But Holy Christ on Crutches, you would think a tragedy was happening.

Last time I checked, there were no locusts ravaging the North East.    But Holy Christ on Crutches, you would think a tragedy was happening... because of the heat.  Really?  During every winter, there are complaints about the wind chill, cold and snow?  The same plan vacations to Mexico and the Carribean.  I have been there...this heat feels the same as it does today.  Granted it sucks because rather ordering rum/tequila drinks, there is a manuevering on the Mass Pike while going to work. Mother Nature cannot win (but she is more than welcome to come over to the Wangs for a drink.)

The heat has spiked in my neck of the woods.  Not a big deal for those who knew it was coming.  Apparently there were several who didn't know that summer followed spring.  People who are now whining that their air conditioning didn't work-home and car.  My favorite are those jack asses that claim that they never need air conditioning but just a fan.  Regardless, the same didn't look that rested this morning (while sleeping with the fan).

Personally I like the heat (over the cold).  I don't have to shovel the heat.  When it is hot, I don't worry that  I am going to slip on the pavement.  It is easier to dress my girls lightly and slather sunblock than bundle them up.

It's the weather, people..it happens. If you can't take the heat, then don't, freakin', sit next to me.   I don't want to see a section of the Wall Street Journal dedicated to dressing in layers.  I know it is going to be blistering hot outside while the air conditioning pumps inside.  I know how to dress appropriately.  Dedicating a section to a major newspaper just cow tows to those who whine about something so simple as the weather?  Apparently air conditioning air is new, compared to very warm air.

I feel insulted if the weather is initiated as part of the conversation.  Really...I am a smart woman.  Ask me about something just as benign but respectable like sports or economy.  If you ask me if "it's hot enough for me?"  Ab-so-freakin'-not. First of all,  I assume that I will be gracing hell so this heat is not a big deal.  BUT..my appetizer to hell?  That would be menopause.  This weather is just a hot flash to the weak.

Oh Jesus...there is nothing like a newborn baby that makes you appreciate how grown up your children are.

On Sunday, my sister Jess and I took our "humps" (I am using your word, Tacoma Sue) out to lunch for Father's Day.  While Jon and Ching, enjoy fried things and "lobstery" things, we had a really nice lunch in the sunshine.  The kids ran without abandon (Thank you Gritty's for having a yard and play area for kids);  Jess told me how great and fit she felt and as I swore that I was 3 pounds heavier, while I also pledging that wouldn't drink again.  (There was a party at my mom's the previous day.)

As I bellied up to something greasy, there was a newborn also on the restaurant deck that would occasionally let out a cry.  Oh Jesus...there is nothing like a newborn baby that makes you appreciate how grown up your children are.  This cry sent my body into terrible spasms.  First, my stomach would tense up and my stature would go into a concave silhouette.  This "stature" may not make sense to those who have never had a 3 day old chomp down on your nipple like a fat man eating a steak, but whatever.  I, then, feared the nighttime.  When both Laurel and Rachel were newborns, the night was the worse.  I couldn't reason with them.  I didn't know why they wouldn't sleep and I felt so alone during the night.  And I swear to God..there was a freakin' peeper in my windows.  

I made a joke to Ching about how that cry just made me want another.  (No..Nope..absolutely not...) Of course he glowed but my legs clenched shut while making a note to call my prescription into CVS.

When Rachel looks at me with her mangled words and pout, I do truly appreciate that I can (kind of ) reason with her.  When she was 4 weeks old, I couldn't (while she had that pout back then.)  Ching will not admit this, but he isn't good with newborns either.  I truly believe "the newborn non-reasoning" is the reason why I will not have more children with Ching. (This is assuming that the money suck is not the issue.)  Ching and I are very good with our girls...after the age of 18 months.  After 18 months, Ching and I can figure out what our child(ren) need.  Prior to this stage, the Wangs, with the spreadsheet hanging out, very, very vulnerable.

Again, let me stress to any family members that there are no more Wangs.  My legs are clenched with a vice while that newborn cry replays in my mind.

Apparently I am a champ when it comes to working the remote and On Demand.

Happy Father's Day-- one day late.  I certainly see the importance of the day but this weekend, the Wangs were away. Last night I spent my time playing catch up--doing my duty of laundry, groceries and dinner.  Usually Ching would help me,  but you know...it was Father's Day.  I let him camp out with some sort of dessert, the Ipad and ESPN.

I know I am a snarky woman (the best kind) with regards to Ching and how we both parent our girls.  But the truth is, if he didn't do such a good job, I wouldn't be snarky.  I would be pissy and unhappy..and not at all funny.   I understand how much Ching and I truly co-parent. (Most days) my life is full.  There are so many instances of  a good laugh or just moments when I draw my breath in and appreciate my family.

When Ching was told he was going to be a dad, he bought every book about becoming the expectant father.  He would voraciously read...and every now and then, his learning would be too blatant.  There was one instance when he came out with the book in front of him while telling me that I was attractive.  While I thanked him (cautiously), I would later look up the chapter that he was reading.  It was about understanding and telling the expectant mom how beautiful she was (because she may not feel...Christ...you know).  He was truly trying in the best way that he knew how.  I can't imagine if his reference books had what he likes best...maps.  I don't want to think about that.

I want to focus on what Ching does so well...and how JCW kind of lacks (now and then).

Ching is the swaddling champ.  He could wrap both girls in amazing speed like he had been a delivery nurse for 20 nurse.  I was always afraid and was too timid.  His ability was so good that I felt like I should buy him those comfy nurse shoes.

Ching will get the girls away from the t.v.  When the weather is below zero, he will get them to an indoor playground...good weather, an outdoor (one).  Library. lessons, play dates...Ching Wang is a champ.  Apparently I am a champ when it comes to working the remote and On Demand.

Ching will work and complete any homework with focus.  The Wang family focus is all Wang...unfortunately there is no Carlson-Wang with the focus.  Good Lord, as soon as Laurel completes question 2 of 5, I give her some sort of Nutter Butter covered in chocolate.

Ching doesn't read my blog... my appreciation was willed on to him (no, not with that)  but with some sort of bacon covered ground beef goodness.

My girls have such a good dad...really...there is no eye roll from JCW.

Do you think the classroom moms are mad at me? You know, maybe they read the blog?

Do you think the classroom moms are mad at me? You know, maybe they read the blog?  The irony of what happened to day, being the last day of school, bit me hard in the ass.

Today was Laurel's last day of school.  I can't tell you how excited and proud I was that she accomplished so much in 180 days.  (I was also astounded how fast the first year flew.  I went home and immediately checked her 529 balance.)  On this last day of school, all of her classmates wore their classroom shirt.  This was a shirt that she got was during the class picnic.  On the front was an iron-on picture of what looked like a calendar.  But rather than numbers in each box, there was a self portrait of each child with their name.  During the picnic all the kids autographed each shirt.  It was a very nice gesture but when I saw the shirt, I noticed the iron-on picture.  A hot dryer would rip that apart so I (smartly) kept the shirt out of the dryer when I washed it and had it ready for Laurel.

But this morning when I took the shirt off the drying rack, the iron-on was curled around the edges.  Laurel questioned the way it looked but I assured her that all her friends' shirts would look like this.  But the other shirts didn't look like this.  I saw the e-mail that said "wear the shirt on Friday" but I didn't read it carefully enough that explained that the shirt needed to be hand washed.  LAUREL WAS GIVEN A T-SHIRT THAT NEEDED TO BE HAND WASHED!

Is this a freakin' joke?  I don't hand wash. My bras are mangled; my undies are cotton and bought three in a pack, and if a see a blouse that needs to be hand washed, I don't buy it.

This just felt like the cherry that topped the year.  The school year that somewhat kicked me in the ass because I had no clue what I needed to keep track of on a regular basis.  I will have my act together more next year.

As I am picking up Laurel, I check other kids to see if any others are wearing a mangled t-shirt.  There are a few...their moms are my new besties.  I may even send them a bottle of wine.

I look at this situation like crab rangoon.

Nine years ago today, Ching and I got married.  This isn't the anniversary of our wedding day (that stick up my ass day is a later entry ), but a day when we kept it very simple.

While we were planning our wedding, Ching had, what I would describe, a cartoon bad weather cloud over his head.  He couldn't shake it.  He knew that his grandmother couldn't attend the wedding that we were planning in Maine.  A family member would visit her everyday in her nursing home..Ching felt that with the wedding, he would be taking away all her visitors.  She wouldn't experience the wedding.   Not a problem, I thought..let's get married in Minnesota with your grandmother and the wedding could happen in Maine?  While it was such a simple suggestion to me, it took about 40 pounds off of Ching's shoulders.  So that is what we did.

On June 14, 2003..there were so many degrees of awesome.  Some obvious and some, an unexpected delicious treat that made others squirm.

Let's start with my mom.  Initially, the idea of the Minnesota wedding was to have the most intimate wedding.  I didn't want my mom there thinking it was more of a Wang family get together.  BUT then I saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding..two cultures melding.  I look at this situation like crab rangoon.  Who thought the awesomeness of cream cheese and fried wanton could mesh?  It did..just like my mom and Ching's family.  They were an amazing combination..(and the crab stick that makes the rangoon..think of it like Ching and me.  Holy Christ, this is weird but whatever..)

Secondly, my mom and I were in Minnesota!  My sister's boyfriend's family lived in Minnesota and just 20 minutes away from Ching's family.  (Yeah, I know that is weird and coincidental..we have never been able to explain that..)  Since we were out there, Jon's parents (Dick and Rita) wanted to meet us and we JUMPED at the opportunity.  My mom wanted to meet the parents of the man that my sister waxed poetic.  I just wanted to meet them because my little sister wasn't there to police us...this was freakin' gold.  The havoc that we could initiate..my God..but we were tame.  What I didn't plan, that morning, was a delicious spread that Rita gave us as her guests.  Have you ever had egg bake?  Incredible..I had two pieces and I would have had a third but I think my mom would have stabbed my hand with her fork.  (Jude, do you want them to think that you don't eat..what the hell?) The significance of me eating so much was the setting.  I just met them.  Usually in a new situation, I can't eat around people.  But Jon, my (now) brother-in-law's family made me feel so at ease and gave me such importance on the low key but important day.  I felt at home.

Then Mom and I went back to the hotel and had an amazing Cosmo...we only had one each...really.

Our ceremony, on a beautiful day,  was in the backyard of his Aunt Paulina and Uncle Paul's home  (no, I am not going to explain that name combo--that is what they, as a couple,  chose when they came to the US of A.)  Ching's aunt loves to garden and Ching's uncle is a doctor in horticulture so the gardens were incredible while on a lake.  There were no scheduled florists..but someone did buy me bouquet and Ching, a boutonniere.  There was no paid photographer..but assume the pictures were covered by Ching's family.  There was no huge dress..I bought a blue summer dress at Lord and Taylor and Ching wore his best suit.  There was no pomp or circumstance..we were casual in the surroundings but knew we were embarking on something important.  I walked up the Ching without music and laughed during our vows..this was my man...because he laughed back.

When you see the pictures, Ching's grandmother is in her wheelchair surrounded by her children (Ching's aunts and uncles) all which raised him.

We had a very simple dinner, not reception..eating a Chinese dinner and cutting a small grocery store cake.

I had my man on one side of me and then my mom on the other.  I got my moo-shi duck and Ching gave his grandmother the opportunity of seeing him get married.. At the time, I didn't know what the nine years would deliver..but I could take several more..

Well, pass the freakin' peanut butter because we are about to make one hell of a fluffernutter.

Tonight I was thinking about writing more of a fluff piece because tomorrow's (entry) will be a tad longer since it is a special day in the Wang household.  But I did have to chuckle since some (readers) may consider all my writing, fluff.  Well pass the freakin' peanut butter because we are about to make one hell of a fluffernutter.

Sometimes I make pretend I am a guest on a talk show (--there I said it).  I think about all sorts of questions that could be asked and if I am not careful, you might even see my lips slightly moving as the answers go through my head.  One such show, isn't exactly an afternoon show but it does pose a series of the same questions that I thought I would answer.  Tonight I am James Lipton's guest.  In case you don't know who James is (Mom), he has a show on Bravo called "Inside the Actor's Studio."  Actors come on and talk about the timeline of their career.  Prior to the question and answer period, he will ask the same 10 questions.  This show used to be good until this orange hued host (yeah, his make up is that bad) started having hacks on..like Jennifer Lopez.

And James starts question #1:

What is your favorite word?
Joy.  It is simple and makes you smile when you say it.  Joy is a word that means hope, bliss and a full heart.  I would like to punch the guy in the neck who tried to ruin the word by adding it to a candy bar name just because "sometimes he felt like a nut."

What is your least favorite word?
No.  Also simple but it seems to cause discontent and disappointment.  Some people say it because they are too lazy to think of something else or they are a 23 month old named Rachel.

What turns you on?
Diamonds and square footage (JCW--you can't say that!)  A very dry, quick sense of humor--one that doesn't need the acronym of LOL or LMFAO after a written joke.  This humor doesn't need to be protected by someone saying "just kidding" because their humor may not have been understood.

What turns you off?
Arrogance--there is nothing worse than a douche bag. 

What is your favorite curse word?
I don't say that word on my blog.  My mom told me that if I have to use it to make my thought funnier, perhaps I should work on the thought.  But it's a good word to say..it rhymes with truck and can be used as a verb, noun, adjective and adverb.  

What sound do you love?
I love hearing Laurel and Rachel laugh.  Their laughter is very distinct--Laurel has a careful, toss your head back loud giggle while Rachel has a belly laugh that is shaking a bowl full of jelly.

What sound do you hate?
Fingernails down a chalkboard..I can't write more than that without cringing.

What profession would you like to try?
I would love to be part of a writing team of a very smart television show--my ab muscles would be ripped from laughing so much.  And I bet the craft service table is pretty good.

What profession would you not like to try?
Proctologist--it is hard enough dealing with figurative assholes..I can't imagine dealing with the literal ones.

What do you want to hear God say when you reach the pearly gates?
Well, this is a stretch..

And with that, we will turn it over to the students for questions...

Toot your own horn JCW..beep, beep..okay to do.

So when a bill comes to the Wangs, I toss (the bill) on the kitchen island..and then put it in a tiny bill of "things to be paid."  Ching will take care of this.   This doesn't mean (in his manly Flintstone voice) "let me make the money and I will take care of you, baby".  This means.."I know we contribute to a joint checking account, but let me go back to my accounting roots..."  Some bills are sent manually (with an actual check) but my man Ching Wang dominates Bill Pay.  And I have acknowledged this and (occasionally) thanked him.  No Wang Family Fairy comes out of no where to do this..

But let me remininsce about a morning this past weekend.  I go down to the basement, while Ching is there, perplexed with the de-humidifier.  He is emptying it, mid cycle, machine beeping...still looking weird.
JCW:  Why are you doing that?
CCW:  I thought the basement was damp..But I never empty this water bin.
JCW:  Are you saying over the past few (humid) months, that you have never thought the water bin (of the dehumidifier) needed to be emptied?
CCW:  Well, I did..but the red light is never on..can you believe it?
JCW:  (Are you freakin' kidding me?)  Ching, I empty the water bin every morning when I make the girls lunch and when I do the laundry on the weekends.  Everyday..yeah..that's me..
CCW:  Oh..

Did he think there was a God damn fairy on payroll at the Wangs?  The monthly cleaner, the grass cutter..and secret freakin' fairy?  What, the freak else, seems a mystery to him?  The clean clothes that are constantly in his dresser?  Ching Wang..that's me..food in the pantry, fridge and on his plate at night..all me.  And the toilet paper that magically appears on the holder, clean sheets, coordinated pick up and drop off, b-day gifts for that weekend party..me too.

Honestly..just breathe, this is not a big deal. Thank him for his contributions and mention mine too.  (Toot your own horn JCW..beep, beep..okay to do.)

There is no need to do rock/paper/scissors. This one is mine.

The jury is still out on today. Laurel's class had a school picnic from 11:30 to 12:30 and parents were invited.  (God damn, these year end activities are killing me.) I am curious if the classroom moms that organized this event understand the pressure that Jude and Ching Wang felt when getting this invitation?  I would also like to know if other parents felt the same pressure?  

As I look at the Evite and see the multiple positive RSVP's, I buckle to peer pressure and RSVP, yes.  Since Ching has an activity planned for the girls during the day on Thursday, there is no need to do rock/paper/scissors. This one is mine.  But my response comes with limits.  I can only stay for 25 minutes--the remaining 35 minutes would go to commuting time to and from the picnic.  And I won't eat anything or participate in any sort of activities.  I am wearing my best suit and a lot of the activities involve some sort of object flying in the air.  I avoid activities like this.

I arrive at the event, honestly, with a freakin' chip on my shoulder.  Call me selfish but usually my lunch hour is mine.  I like to run on Mondays.  Monday is the day I work pretty hard, trying to cleanse my bod with a sweat, getting rid of all the crap I ate during the weekend.

I make sure Laurel sees that I am there.  She gives me a quick hug but then runs off to play with her friends.  She likes to run and socialize with several different kids.  (As I watch her, I will her to stay away from the one girl that I cannot stand.  You know the one..the one that told Laurel that she met Katy Perry.)  I chuckle to myself because as one of the moms takes her picture with a few other kids, she towers over all of them.  I sit on a bench (again, nice suit..no grass for me)..and stay for 25 minutes.  I didn't want to talk to any parents (that's a freakin' surprise) because I just want to watch my girl.  It's not until later that I notice how many parents weren't there...but by now it's not important.

When I leave, I tell her and she says that she understands. Laurel understands that I have go to work like she has to go to school.  She is too young to understand the responsibility that I feel.  But when I see her later, she tells me that she wasn't as peppy after I left.  (Jesus Christ..manipulate much?)  Should I have not gone at all?  Would that have been easier on her?  Lord knows it would have been easier on me.

My mother told me that it was a woman's curse

My mother told me that it was a woman's curse..and she wasn't freakin' talking about my period.  Her explanation of the curse was this:  No matter where I am, as a mother or wife, and regardless of what I am doing, I will be involved, even if I don't have a scrid of control.  (You know that crap marketing team for Hallmark?  I believe they came up about this phrase:  Behind any successful man or child there is some sort of tired woman/mother. The person that glorified this?  I want to punch them in the freakin' throat. )  A couple of examples of how I am always involved even though, I don't want to be:

The new Wang family stove (for which in 3 days I have cooked nuggets, Pepperidge Farm Garlic Bread and shrinky dinks):  On Thursday, the stove was supposed to be delivered during a window of 7:30 to 9:30.  I coordinated the plumber to be there no later than 7:45 to unhook the gas and to re-hook (or whatever that is called.)  I was told that we were second on the list for the delivery.  Ching was "working from home" and I told him that I didn't think the delivery would be later than 8:00.  At 8:45, at work, I get a call from Ching that the delivery hasn't  happened yet.  What, in God's name, am I supposed to do?  I am at work and Ching.."working from home?"  Freakin' deal with it..

On a separate occasion, I like the text that says that there are not diapers or wipes in the diaper bag.  Sucks for you Ching Wang.  I would checked prior to your outing.  While you may think it involves me..it doesn't..

And dinner..I make it every night for the girls.  Have you ever noticed what I put on those cheap plastic plates?  Maybe not, because while I am away at dinner..the text of what should I do for dinner?  Really?

For the love of God..I don't think I could run away even if I tried..

"Oh Christ, this is nice, but you don't want a hug, do you?"

I am not good with gifts.  For some reason, I don't think you're surprised.   I am very good at giving gifts because I really do put thought and effort into each one. (Unless you are a new married couple.  This sounds like a cop-out but nothing says happy marriage like cash.  Not a lot of thought but I believe most appreciated.)

When I give a gift, I will tell the receiver that they can open it at any time..I assume they are like me.  Most people are not--they rip the wrapping off without abandon and have the most spectacular reaction.  I can't do this..I like gifts but only if I can either open alone or know what the gift is prior to opening the package.   I have this quirky fear.  When I open the gift, I don't feel like my reaction will satisfy the gift giver.  I know this sounds really weird.  Let me back up, when I open the gift, sometimes I am just processing what I just opened. (Call it what you will..I am slow to comprehend..whatever..) Sometimes during this process I am either saying to myself "What the hell is this?" or "Oh Christ, this is nice, but you don't want a hug, do you?"

This giftophobia all started during my high school graduation party. (Time Machine Bitches--June of 1990) Both sets of grandparents gave me cash. I opened their gifts to me one after the other.  My maternal Nana and Grampy gave me $200.  When I opened it, I yelled, "TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!?" (I know, classy..) My paternal Nana and Grampy gave me $25.  While I thoroughly appreciated the gift..I felt terrible.  I made it very clear that one gift was significantly larger than another.  I felt like such a turd...so to this day, I don't like opening gifts in front of people.

Several years go by, coasting, not opening gifts in front of peeps..and then my bridal shower.  Oh crap..so I do what any sane person does in this situation--I snoop.  Up to my party, I check my registry and see who bought what and therefore I am prepared prior to unwrapping .  (Right now, my mom and her friends are shaking their heads and perhaps cursing..)  If I couldn't tell what the gift was..I just drank to get through the gift opening.  The drink (and the extra swipe of deodorant under each pit) helped immensely.

During my baby shower, I couldn't depend on the drink BUT I was prepared to go into fake tears if I felt awkward.  Thankfully it never got to that point..

While I don't think Ching does this intentionally, he leaves receipts and business cards all over the place.  Prior to any holiday or birthday, I usually know what I am getting.  Recently I found a David Yurman business card from Bonnie.  (In case you are not familiar with Bonnie at the David Yurman in the Copley Mall-Back Bay--Ching loves her.  I didn't realize why until I went in to browse.  Bonnie has huge boobs and of course flaunts them like no tomorrow.  THEN, she offers to try on the necklaces, etc. that are being considered..Ching loves this and because I am really secure, I couldn't give a rip.)  There were two pieces listed for my 40th so I know..and I can prepare prior to my birthday.

I need to prepare..because more often than not, I will probably love the gift.  But then, oh Christ, there will probably be a hug expected.

Silly girl didn't even ask for a Suzy-Q.

I learned so much while Laurel was in kindergarten.  On her first day of school, I hoped that, previous to this day, I had given everything to prepare her. But I also sent her with the standard L.L. Bean (pink) backpack so she could be just like the other kids.  And for good measure, I made a safety kit for her and put it in the front pack.  This kit was stuffed with Phineas and Ferb band-aids, Aquaphor (her hands get very dry), sunblock, fruit snacks (to cheer up her), my work number and cell number on a post-it and 10 bucks...for emergencies.  (Later, according to Laurel, the after school fundraiser craft table was that emergency.)  I told her that it was okay to get her clothes dirty--that is why detergent is made.  She wanted to wear jeans..and not a dress.  I just wanted her to feel her best. I also offered her anything under the sun in her lunchbox. She kept her requests pretty standard.  (Silly girl didn't even ask for a Suzy-Q.)

Laurel was fine..but I was too. I realized, over the year, kindergarten was just as eye opening for me as it was to her.  This is what I learned:

I can worry all day about the pick up and drop off schedule.  I found that worrying was a waste of time..learn to worry when it actually happens...or with shitty traffic, when the routine is not happening.

The only thing that can get a child to realize that they can't wait until the last minute (to go to the bathroom) is to actually wet their pants.  Thankfully, when Laurel did this, she was with Lindsey as opposed to an elder Wang who aren't as sympathetic as Lindsey.  (That may sound bad..but Lindsey can play with the girls and go home to..lovely, blissful silence.)

You are never ahead of the curve..If you think you are, it is temporary or perhaps during a week when there are fewer scheduling e-mails or tasks.

Be aware that some brat will undermine your parental prowess.  When this child's parent calls for a playdate..you are never home.

There is going to be a random style that will come out of left field for your kid.  Thankfully, no brand names..yet.  Just the urge to grow her bangs out and occasionally brush her hair.  Small steps with that hair..

During the first parent teacher conference(s), you will not hear that your child is Princeton bound.  But hearing that Laurel is smart, focused (all Wang, all the time), a leader, a friend and very polite..this felt like Princeton bound to me.

I had the opportunity to ask for Laurel's first grade teacher.  I passed..I think or I hope, regardless, she will be just fine.  If she isn't..I certainly will not worry about it during the summer.

Monday night was an episode of pissy jealousy.

On Monday, when Laurel read her short story to the other parents, there was also some other writing samples with drawings.  (You remember that night, right?  The one where I judged and then, coincidentally couldn't work my own camera?  That night..) Laurel had one example where she had to list three differences and three similarities between her and a parent.  She chose Ching..of course she did.  Can I ever get a mom and me drawing..small story, anything?

The girls adore Ching and I love him for it.  He is very involved with activities, school (he volunteered for the Cabot Fair; I volunteered to stay home and do laundry) and the bedtime routine.  He has gotten the unspoken label as the fun parent.  But when the girls are hungry or need clean undies, they come to me.  While I accept this, every now and then, I have a tinge of pissy jealousy.

Monday night was an episode of pissy jealousy.  How come Laurel didn't choose me?  All her other friends chose their moms.  So I start looking at the three similarities and differences between her and Ching.  They are similar because of their brown hair, their brown eyes and they are both Asian.  (Laurel--How come you didn't list your similar aversion to bugs?  You know where you and dad scream like girls when you see one?  You both prefer breakfast foods more than dinner foods and if you both could get whipped cream on your pancakes, you would.  You both innocently leave the toilet paper roll empty and neither of you sweat out a word problem when it comes to math.)

Your differences--Daddy wears glasses and was born in China.  (I can't remember the third difference.)  Something to think about Laurel--Daddy will at least eat his vegetables and try new foods.  When you both eat apple pie, you like the apple filling while Daddy prefers the crust.  I have to pull him on to the dance floor and you will dance at any opportunity.  

C'mon JCW!  Put away the pissy jealousy--the girls have a great dad.  You will have your time..probably when they are asking for $180 jeans.

It's not like she was in the corner with 50 Shades of Grey, charging her friends a buck to read the dirty parts.

I am dreading tomorrow night.  I tell myself not to worry until the exact moment that I need to but the resentment all ready there.  Rachel (that's right Rachel) has her parent teacher conference on Wednesday night at 6:20.  (Usually my Wednesdays are dedicated as "Lindsey Wednesdays" when (Lindsey) picks up the girls and I can stay a little later at work.) Not only can I not putz through out my day, knowing that I can stay later, but what the hell can they tell me about my child who is under the age of 2?

Granted this dread is precipitated on the fact that I was approached by one of her teachers last night during pick-up.  (Oh Christ, did she bite someone?  Sit on someone and grab their hair with all her might?  It really hurts, I have been there.)  Oh, no..apparently Rachel had a small car in her hand while she was being changed.  She then preceded to drive the car over her nether regions.  Okay..that's it?  I look at this teacher like the most odoriferous silent but deadly just crept up?  Really?  Every time a boy tugs his junk, do you tell the parent (of the boy) that this is an incident?  It's not like she was in the corner with 50 Shades of Grey, charging her friends a buck to read the dirty parts.  I really didn't know what to say..should I offer to take the car home and clean it?  Should I..freak that, it's ridiculous.  I give Rachel a hug and we get the hell out of there.

Rachel is the girl that made my heart grow bigger than I thought possible.  She also:

• Is very dramatic. If she doesn't get her way, she can drop to the floor and turn on the waterworks like a pro.
• She will eat what she sees..even if the food isn't hers.  I like to call this survival of the fittest.
• Rachel will tend to lead the class into chaos.  I like, to assume for her, chaos is fun.
• She is becoming more verbal but of course so many words sound like the f-bomb or shit.
• And now, according to her teacher, she is masturbating with a matchbox car...please.  

Rachel is a girl that is on track..verbally, mentally and socially-they don't have to tell me this given.  And she is also healthy..I think that health is a gift that is overlooked too many times.  I will go into a conference session on guard because I don't want them to tell me otherwise.  (Really? Not a big deal..It's not like she was jamming little cars down her Huggies-size 5) My girl is perfect and she is a toddler.  And I also want her to just be a little girl.  No need for a measuring stick (as I push Ching, face down, with his spreadsheet)..she is my precious girl..my Rachel Jessica.

I still had one of those moments when I (figuratively) got too big for my non-mom jeans.

Instead of writing my blog last night, I ate a chocolate chip ice cream cone..in bed..while watching something on the Ipad. While I didn't feel guilty this morning, I did have a bit of a sugar haze headache (and avoided the scale).  My headache pounded a little harder when I saw an e-mail that was sent to me over the weekend.  It was a message from an acquaintance (by association) updating me on her two kids.  Initially, it may not sound that bad..but this was a form e-mail where I was blind carbon copied.  This wasn't any brief.."hey how are you..hope your girls are well".  The message cut to the chase with a detailed account of trips, cultural outings to museums and gourmet restaurant visits.  I was so taken aback with the tone that I panicked and thought that I was getting one of those holiday greeting letters.  (Holy Shit, is it all ready December?)

If this was a feel good letter of early summer, it failed.  This letter didn't make me feel good--my stomach was a knot of annoyance. Where are the mentions of hustling in the morning, crappy kid food that is slathered with ketchup and sass?   I was then renewed about my goal to spread Attijude.  I just want my tribulations to give you a good laugh or a "holy crap, thank God I know someone else who felt that way too".  Recently a mom named Denise told me that she thought of me now when she found her kids' worn underwear in her dining room.  I was strangely flattered...rather than sigh to herself, I am hoping that she just chuckled and knew there was a mom out there that also picks up worn undies in every room but the room with a hamper.  And she isn't afraid to admit it.

I understand maternal pride but it is also very easy to become blinded by the big accomplishments and think that you are ahead of the game or secretly bask in another mother's shortcoming.  But what comes around, goes around.  Tonight, regardless of how that letter made me feel, I still had one of those moments when I (figuratively) got too big for my non-mom jeans.  Laurel had her author's night tonight and I specifically had Rachel stay home with Ching.  I didn't want (Rachel) to disrupt the class.  But there were other mothers that brought younger siblings that did chatter and disrupt a bit.  I was tsking in the back of my mind and my jaw was tightened.  These moms also recorded or took pictures of their child reading their stories.  I thought I did too but I didn't hit record on my phone.  Well, well, well..Every time I judge and thank God that it's not me..I do know it is a matter of time.  Apparently this lesson hasn't quite sunk in yet.

I had enough tonight. I picked a fight with Laurel..

I had enough tonight.  I picked a fight with Laurel and I will admit to it.  Her constant contradictions were more than I could stand so I pointed one out to her.  (And with total disregard of what could happen.)

For dinner, we ordered Bertucci's for pick up.  I got an artsy-fartsy pizza, Ching got pasta and for the girls, we got a cheese pizza and rolls.  We made a special request (for Laurel) that the pizza needed to be light on the sauce.  (For anyone looking for a child's lunch idea.  I cut leftover pizza into squares and Rachel loves it.  So with two slices in the 'fridge and some applesauce and fresh fruit..Monday and Tuesday lunches for Rachel are set.)

While Rachel is licking the butter off her roll, Laurel only eats 2/3 of her piece of pizza.  She claims that she can't eat the crust.  She then asks for a roll--a Bertucci's crusty roll.

Me:  Laurel?  Do you like that roll?  The whole roll?
LW: Yes!  I love these rolls.
Me:  Are you going to eat the rest of your pizza?
LW:  I can't eat the crust..it is too hard.
(And then I pounce.  Because, perhaps, I am channeling a horrible, horrible person.)
Me:  Laurel, you know how you love that whole roll with the crusty outside?  That pizza crust is that crusty outside..JUST LIKE THE ROLL!!

She looks at me..trying to make an excuse.  She stammers and looks at Ching and he gives nothing.  If this was on a spreadsheet, he would have a snappy comeback..this..zilch.  She doesn't know what to say.  (It wasn't that bad..she didn't cry..)

I let it lie..knowing that I have won..and that I will burn.  (But I know a couple of other moms like this too.  We have a table reserved in the back with drink service.)

Apparently over the last week, the Wangs lived like a rock band staying in a hotel on the Sunset Strip.

If I convince myself long enough, anything becomes the truth.

Yesterday morning I got an e-mail from Ching with a simple statement.  "You locked Aurea out."

First of all, Aurea is a woman who owns a cleaning service.  Technically, she was never locked out.  I don't think she has even seen our house.  Her team supposedly was locked out.

I didn't lock her out and I was adamant as I furiously wrote back to Ching.  When Ching and Laurel left, I was putting Rachel in the car.  But I had to go back into the house.  (I failed to mention that I went back inside so I could get a packet of Lorna Doones for Rachel.  I had absolutely no will to negotiate and those cookies have less sugar than Honey Nut Cheerios so what the hell?)  As I was walked out, I am sure that my right hand turned the knob and could feel that it was unlocked.  Yes, we, leave the door unlocked for a cleaning team.  Judge if you want.

This is my theory..the door was unlocked and Aurea was double booked.  She came by and locked the door (and re-scheduled.)  OR her team saw the mess that the Wangs made and said absolutely not. (Apparently over the last week, the Wangs lived like a rock band staying in a hotel on the Sunset Strip.) Then locked the door and told Aurea it was locked which of course led to a re-schedule for next Tuesday.

God damn it!  I could not have messed this up!  Is it possible that while my right hand checked the knob, my left hand, locked the other side out of habit?  I don't think so..but just to feel guilt free, I did call Aurea to apologize.

But I swear that door was unlocked...