The Not so Long Goodbye

Recently, my daughter and first-born child turned three. 

With this latest birthday came a common three-year-old rite of passage: preschool.

I'd thought often about what her first day of preschool would be like.  I envisioned a teary child, reluctant to let go of mommy and an even more distraught mommy who might have to be pried out of the room by teachers.

I had spent the weeks leading up to this preparing her for the "big day."  She received her own Dora the Explorer backpack and Sesame Street lunch box which she excitedly packed with fake food from her play kitchen to practice taking her lunch. 

The week before, I took her to get a new haircut, new shoes and new play clothes for school (even though anything new would likely be stained with mud, paint or who knows what else before the end of the first day).

By the time the morning of the first day arrived, she was ready to go.  She jumped out of bed early and willingly ate her breakfast (much earlier than normal) before reluctantly agreeing to change out of her pajamas so we could get out the door in time. 

I was ready with camera in hand to capture this momentous occasion.  But like a movie-star being stalked by the paparazzi she declared "no pictures mommy, I dont want anyone to see."  I quickly snapped a few but they were not the posed smiling images I had hoped for.

The drive to school was a short one down just one main street through two traffic lights and one school zone.  My daughter took in the passing traffic, and noticed the school buses (which prompted her to ask why she didn't get to ride the bus to school).

As I nervously pulled into the parking lot, the realization set in that in a short time I would be leaving my sweet, precious baby with complete strangers for the first time ever.

My little girl excitedly climbed out of the car, and crossed the parking lot pulling her Dora bag proudly behind her.  We soon signed in and the school's director led us upstairs to her preschool classroom.

A welcome sign greeted my daughter on the door and she bounded inside to join the other kids.  Ready to start her day, she passed up snack time and ran to explore her new surroundings.  Her teacher suggested we show her around the room, so I helped her put lunchbox and backpack in her new cubby while she staked out what to play with first.  No sooner had I placed her pink windbreaker on the hook than I heard my daughter say, "Mommy, just go now."

My heart sank down to my toes.  Embarrassed, I glanced at her teacher, gave my daughter a quick hug and kiss and said my goodbyes.  This was not how I had expected this to go at all.

By the time I reached the door to the classroom, my daughter was already playing with gusto.  As I walked the steps back down to the front entrance, I realized I was no longer needed. Well, not in the same way my baby girl had once needed me.  We had spent so much time together and she had often fussed when I left the room, or went out to run a quick errand while leaving her with a friend.  But now, she was ready and I wasn't sure where that left me.

On my way out, I filled out some unfinished paperwork and was in and out in record time - less than 15 minutes.

Luckily, I had planned ahead to keep myself busy for the next four hours until it was time to pick her up.  I leisurely ate a bagel and coffee at the local cafe (the first uninterrupted breakfast I'd had in three years), called two girlfriends, went to the bank, did some shopping and even got the car washed.  I soon realized how much more productive running errands could be without a three-year-old in tow.

I returned to the school almost 20 minutes early, in case she was missing me too much, but as I got out of the car, I was more nervous than ever.  Earlier, I'd been afraid to leave for fear that it would break both of our hearts.  Now, I was worried about my own heartbreak, afraid that she would not want to come home with me.

Thankfully, my fears were quickly assuaged.  As I walked into the room, my daughter sat contentedly playing with a puzzle, and a huge smile crept over her face when she saw me.  The teacher confirmed that she'd had a good first day - and wasnt sad at all.  I was happy she was adjusting so quickly.  But I've never been so glad to hear her say "mommy, mommy" in my life.

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Not Quite Ready for Fall

Autumn is just around the corner.  Soon summers green will give way to changing leaves and crisp, cool air.  I love this time of year and what it brings with it:  football, apple picking, taking trips to the pumpkin patch, mums in my flower boxes, pumpkin spice candles, light sweaters, and dusting off the crock pot for some hearty fall comfort food.

I have always loved fall.  Growing up in Florida, I began dreaming of fall on the first unbearably hot early summer day.  Since moving north, fall has become even more enjoyable with beautiful autumnal leaves and a more marked change in the air (and a chance to wear all those sweaters that collected dust when I lived down south).

I got married in the fall.  Our wedding pictures were taken outside with rust-colored leaves sprinkled across the grass, and beautiful lavender mums in the background.  Flowers in hues of dark purple and burgundy dotted the aisle, and even adorned our wedding cake.  While my Floridian relatives shivered in the 60 degree weather, and the ceremony moved inside because the harp couldnt tune correctly with a chill in the air, I welcomed the cooler temperatures that kept me from getting too warm under many layers of tulle.

Yes, fall has always been my favorite season.  But this year, I welcome my old friend with some reluctance, and even a bit of sadness to see summer end.

This summer marked the first summer that my 2-year-old daughter was mobile.  She began walking last fall, just in time for the colder weather to force us indoors for many months.

So when spring arrived, we had a serious case of cabin fever, and were anxious to set up the outdoor toys and let our little girl loose on the grass.  By the time summer arrived, we had logged many hours on the deck, and had broken in the new sand and water table my in-laws got my daughter for her birthday.  We had been anxious to open the water table when it first arrived in early March, but we stashed it in the garage to avoid temptation, and a frozen toddler.

We even bought a swing set for the backyard which my husband spent two long and arduous days assembling complete with baby swing and big girl swing, sandbox, climbing rope, teeter totter, slide and even a fort.  When my daughter got up from her nap one afternoon that weekend and saw the glorious structure through the window, she thought she had woken up at the park!

She quickly developed a love for (ok, an obsession with) her swing, and demanded to be pushed "faster, faster" from the moment we strapped her in.  I must admit, it certainly has been more convenient to take a few steps outside when the urge to swing strikes her, rather than packing us into the car for the 2-mile drive to the park.

In addition to swinging, this summer she could chase the dog across the lawn, run through the sprinkler, and play hide-and-seek (she loves counting to 10 well, sometimes only to 8, so she can hurry to find mommy and daddy peeking out from behind a tree or the swing set).

This summer, she could climb down the steps of the deck to water the flowers with her small, plastic, pale green watering can, and take a bowl of water to the dog in the yard.

She could step into her blue, plastic kiddy pool by herself, and walk across the stepping stones around her very own lilac tree planted just outside the kitchen window.  She could walk up to the flower pinwheels and watch them turn in the breeze.

For the past several months, our backyard has been an extended playroom for our daughter.  Shes spent hours running up and down the "mountains" (actually small areas of raised turf) behind our house, kicking her Dora the Explorer soccer ball back and forth to daddy, and "driving" her red Cozy Coupe across the deck.

With Labor Day now just a memory, I can sense the impending cold weather and the end of our backyard playtime for a while.  This past weekend, despite my daughters nasty end of summer cold, we spent some late afternoon/early evening time in our backyard playground.  We filled up the water table so she could play with her boats and water toys for what could have been the last time this season, depending on the weather.  We watered flowers and played a quick game of hide and seek.  For dinner that night, we let her eat at her picnic table, knowing that our days of outdoor dining are numbered.

Soon it will be time to put the kiddy pool, the water table and her little red car into storage for the winter.  Well have to pack away the picnic table, the watering can and sand toys until the spring.  Honestly, Ill be a little sad to see them go.

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Summer Vacation:  Toddler Style

For months, we had been looking forward to our first official "family vacation" just me, my husband, and our 2-year-old daughter.  Wed had a few day trips and long weekends away, but this would be the first of many McCarty family summer vacations.

We soon found out that planning a vacation with a toddler is a bit more complicated than scheduling the romantic couples-only excursions of our past.  In choosing a destination for our pre-baby getaways we always looked for places offering great food, shopping, and things to do and see and of course, plenty of opportunity for relaxation. 

This time around, we realized wed have to look for restaurants offering hot dogs and mac and cheese versus fine cuisine, and family-friendly accommodations (a.k.a. a hotel that doesnt mind ear-piercing toddler tantrums, especially when they occur at 3:00 a.m.)

We managed to book an oceanfront room at a kid-friendly beach destination entirely with free hotel points bonus! This would free up some money for the many tanks of fuel wed be putting in our gas-guzzling SUV to make the 11-hour trip.

Then it was on to the preparations.  Traveling with a toddler requires a lot more effort and pre-planning than throwing a few days clothes in a duffel bag and heading out.  For this journey, we'd need much more than clothing and personal items.  For our week-long trip wed need to pack: car-seat friendly toys; toys for the hotel room; pool toys; beach toys; special food and snacks for our sometimes picky little eater; a cooler filled with plenty of milk (our daughter is somewhat of a milk-a-holic); jumbo-size packages of diapers and wipes, a portable DVD player and dozens of DVDVs (as my daughter calls them); several special dollies, and many extra binkies (a.k.a. pacifiers).  Once the car was loaded on departure day, it looked as if we were going away for at least a month.

Our drive out was relatively uneventful thanks to many hours of my daughters favorite DVDs, and several repeats of her favorite toddler tunes on CD (who doesnt get tired of listening to "Wheels on the Bus" time after time?

We'd planned the vacation with a stay at my in-laws on either end of the beach trip which would give us some reprieve from the road and help us avoid having a stir-crazy toddler anxious to break free from the car seat.

After two days with my husband's family we were rested and ready to get on with our adventure.  We had so much we wanted to do and see including time at the beach, the pool, the local aquarium, bike rides, putt-putt golf and many wonderful seafood restaurants we were anxious to try.

Once at the hotel, we were ready to see it all.  Our daughter had other ideas.  She wanted to see the elevator and not much else (gee, we could have done that in Ohio so whyd we drive all the way to the ocean?) 

When we finally convinced her that there was more to see here than our hotel room, the hallway, and the elevator, we went downstairs to let her have her first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean.  We watched her eyes grow wide with delight when she saw the waves crashing in to the seashore, and immediately decided she wanted to "swim in the blue sea."  We took her shoes off and watched her tiny toes move through the sand and closer to the waters edge. 

My husband and I looked at each other and smiled.  In this moment, I realized how much we had in store for the week watching our child experience these wonders of nature that we often take for granted for the first time.  I decided that the key to a fun family vacation would be to go with the flow.

As the week unfolded, we did some things we may not have done if our daughter had not been with us.  We spent an entire day at the aquarium, watching our smiling toddler touch horseshoe crabs, rays and sea stars, including half an hour spent watching large sea turtles swim up to the glass to greet her. 

We took a family surrey ride along the boardwalk and reveled in her laughter as the breeze ran through her hair. 

We spent time at the pool enjoying mocktails with our daughter ok, so I had two Melango Coladas -- but I definitely would have racked up a higher pool bar tab in my pre-mommy days. 

We managed to have one or two nice meals out, but our best meals were enjoyed eating pizza in our room and watching Curious George on pay-per-view until way past our daughter's bedtime.

Sure, we dragged armloads of beach toys, umbrellas, chairs and other sun gear out to the sand for what we hoped would be hours of sunbathing and water play, only to have our daughter insist on swimming in the pool after less than an hour at the ocean.  But if we had followed our own plan, we may have missed seeing our daughter get her pants wet up to the knees playing in the surf, catching a glimpse of a dolphin fin peeking out from behind the waves, and watching our little girls face scrunch up in wonder and amazement when she felt the horseshoe crabs legs move beneath her fingers.  Nope, I wouldnt change a thing about our vacation not even for a deep, dark tropical tan.

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Swing is in the air

Many of us have little rituals to welcome the new seasons as they arrive.  Now that spring is in the air, in my family we look forward to the milder weather and sunshine and the return of the swing.

My 2-year-old daughter and I commemorated the first real day of spring-time weather a few weeks ago with an unexpected stop at the park.  After a busy morning of errands we had planned to head straight home after lunch.  To my surprise, my daughter was relatively well-behaved through the cadre of stops wed had to make, including a rather lengthy wait for an appointment, with only one Dora the Explorer book to keep her occupied.  Our impromptu lunch with daddy was capped off with a vanilla/chocolate swirl milkshake, so her sugar high would last for at least another half an hour or so meaning T minus 30 minutes and counting for toddler meltdown. 

On the drive home, the first beautiful (and semi-warm) day in months urged me to veer off our path for some much-needed time outdoors.  So, despite the imminence of afternoon nap time, and the risk of having an overtired, cranky toddler on my hands, I took a risk and steered the car toward our neighborhood park.  I soon realized that my idea was not unique, as I looked down the hill and saw the park teeming with windbreaker-adorned kids anxious to escape their confinement indoors.

I set my daughter free from her car seat and as soon as her feet hit the pavement, her blue eyes opened wide with excitement.  It did not take long for my daughter to spot an open swing, and she raced toward the swing set screaming "swingin mommy, swingin."  The swings are her favorite part of the playground, and shed be content to stay here all day.  Even though I knew my arm would ache after hundreds of pushes, today I shared her enthusiasm as I soaked up the wonderful breeze and fresh air.

She giggled with delight as she swung back and forth in the breeze, her big blue eyes peeking out from behind the yellowy green butterfly sunglasses covering much of her face.  I could push her all day just to hear the sound of her little girl laughter.  After dozens of pushes, she began to chant, "momma swing too," and I tried to explain that momma was much too big to fit in the baby swing. 

I remembered her as a newborn when we first introduced her to the swing which has been a favorite since the early days of her young life.  When she was just weeks old, she would sit in her baby swing contently staring at the mobile above, watching the colorful fish swim back and forth across their musical aquarium, keeping time with the movement of the swing.  Many times this was the only way to get our newborn baby to sleep and allow my husband and me to eat dinner with both hands.  Sometimes shed sleep nestled in her soft baby blanket for hours, rocking back and forth to an array of childhood lullabies.  Thankfully that swing was motorized, and the music played for nearly an hour before we had to start it again. 

Then I had an idea.  I scooped her up and headed for the "big kid" swings.  I nestled into the seat and placed my daughter on my lap; one arm around her waist, and the other holding the chain.  I told her to hold on as I walked my feet back and pushed off and then, we began to swing.  I took in the sweet smell of baby shampoo as the breeze blew through my little girls hair.  We both began to laugh and I relished this rare moment of pure joy.   

I had to admit the swing did have quite a calming effect.  As we moved back and forth, the worries of the day seemed to drift away.  I guess the swing has always had a way of soothing us both. 

All too often, I'm in such a hurry to get work done; finish the laundry or get dinner started that I miss these wonderful experiences with my child.  As I listen to the rhythm of the creaky swing, I'm grateful to the park for beckoning us here today.  I vow to appreciate the little moments like these that I'm blessed to have with her.  So the next time I feel overwhelmed by work and household chores, or toddler tantrums are ready to send me over the edge I'm heading to the park to just swing.  Maybe I'll see you there.

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Caution: Toddler Crossing

I'd heard a lot about the "Terrible Twos" but until recently had not experienced them firsthand.  My dear daughter, now a happy and curious 2-year-old, had always been fairly even-tempered and well-behaved, with minimal tantrums and few toddler meltdowns.

We had breezed past her 2^nd birthday; a little smugly in fact, that we seemed to be missing the terrible twos.  Our daughter was continually praised for her good behavior and I thought we must be immune to this toddler tradition wow, lucky us!  That's not to say she was always an angel, or didnt often get on our nerves, but it had always been manageableuntil one fateful winter day.

She woke up fussy one Sunday morning and refused to do anything she normally enjoyed.  She wouldnt eat breakfast, drink her milk, or watch her favorite cartoons.  Instead, she insisted on sitting in one corner of the kitchen screaming "mommy, mommy, mommy" until I'd come pick her up.  I tried reaching into my mommy bag of tricks -- reading stories, pushing her in her favorite car, putting in her favorite videos, and even bribing her with her favorite toddler treats.  Nothing was working.  Today was particularly tough since daddy was in the middle of a home improvement project and I was alone with our fussy toddler.  I'll admit to hiding upstairs for a while in hopes of drowning out her persistent "mommy mommy" cries.  She was actually starting to frighten me!

I think the terrible twos should come with a warning label - Caution: Rough Road Ahead: Toddler Crossing! or at least a flashing light on the top of toddlers heads so a mommy can be prepared for what's in store. 

After a two-hour nap, she picked up right where she had left off and I wasn't sure we'd make it through the rest of the day.  I resorted to a peace offering of raisins and milk so I could attempt to make dinner in peace.  When that didn't work, I called in reinforcements and daddy took a break from his project to try his hand at taming the toddler beast.

When dinner was ready, we sat around the table for a rarely made home-cooked meal it was only mac-n-cheese with hot dogs but I'm not much of a cook so this was somewhat of a special occasion.  Unfortunately, my daughter was not interested in this mom-made cuisine and rejected the meal by throwing her food and wielding her fork as a weapon.  So much for a nice family dinner.

I was at the end of my rope as she peeled her diaper off and began running around the house.  This would be a good time for a bath I thought playing in the bubbles is always a highlight of the day so I lured her upstairs and into the tub.

During her bath, she returned to the normally happy toddler I knew and loved.  Trying to bathe her as she squealed with delight, I was halfway in the tub myself up to my elbows in bubbles and I sighed in frustration as I was anxious to get on with the evening.  My aggravation seemed to amuse her and she said, "mommy funny."  Yeah, real funny but I couldn't help myself I had to grin.

She must have sensed that I was at the breaking point and she tried to be helpful.  For the first time ever, she picked up the washcloth and began cleaning her body parts, as well as some of mine.  Kids seem to have an uncanny way of knowing just when you cant take any more.  It must be something they learn on the playground:  how to redeem yourself when your parents are ready to snap.

As I scooped her out of the bath and into a hooded towel, she said, "Bath fun, I love you momma."  Now how could I stay angry at such a sweet little princess?

Unfortunately, her good mood lasted about as long as the bubbles, and as soon as we were back downstairs she returned to toddler tyrant mode.  I dealt with my own anger and frustration by eating an entire sleeve of Thin Mints (minus the 3 I gave my daughter to keep her quiet for 5 minutes).  Only a few minutes until bedtime so I hoped the chocolate would give me the strength to press on.

As I expected, bedtime was not without drama.  She talked in her crib for 30 minutes before throwing a huge tantrum (I entered the room to find that I had left the light on and the shadows were scaring her).  I spent several minutes rocking her to sleep before slinking out of the room on my hands and knees.  What a way to end the day but at least my sweet girl and I had made peace for now.  Tomorrow would be another unpredictable day.  I could only hope that smoother roads lie ahead.

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Learning to Walk

Considering that most kids start walking around the time of their first birthday (isnt that what the milestone charts tell us?), I started to become concerned when my daughter (and first and only child) was 15 months old and not yet taking her first steps. 

Shouldnt she be skipping on the playground, climbing the stairs and romping through the yard?

Even though I know youre not supposed to it was hard not to compare her to other kids especially since there is such pride in boasting that your own child has mastered something BEFORE all of the other children.  It seemed like all the other 1-year-olds we knew were walking some had even begun as early as 9 months.  I shared my frustrations with my girlfriends who all cautioned me not to be in such a hurry because once she started walking, my life would never be the same.  If only I had taken their advice.

Early on, my dear daughter had her own unique way of getting around.  By 9 months, she was boot-scooting across the floor on her bottom to reach her desired destination.

A week after her first birthday, the boot scoot was replaced with crawling, that soon developed into "knee walking."  This new mode of transport which consisted of my daughter shuffling along on her knees from Point A to Point B, prompted stares of amazement from other moms at Gymboree and indoor playgrounds all over town.  My insecurity reared its ugly head, and I wondered why she wasnt walking like the other kids.  Was it my fault?

Knee walking not only took its toll on my psyche, but on my baby's knees, which were lathered up with lotion daily to soften the calluses.  Obviously playing outdoors was a challenge as knee walking was not the most practical way to get around on concrete or in the dirt.

When she still was not walking on her feet at 16 months, the pediatrician suggested a physical therapy evaluation which did little to calm my nerves.

During the weeks leading up to the appointment, I convinced myself that there must be something physically wrong with my little girl, and she would never walk.  (My husband thought I had gone off the deep end, and urged me to relax, but patience has never been my strong suit).

All the while, my little knee walker went about her business happily getting where she needed go to and very quickly I might add. 

By the time the appointment arrived, she had begun pulling herself to a standing position, but would quickly return to her knees, which had proven to be a very reliable way for her to get around.

The physical therapist watched closely as she asked our little girl to retrieve items across the play mat and up on shelves.  Our daughter responded very carefully, grasping items in a very calculating fashion, but ultimately chose to deliver the toys to us on her knees.

We worked with her for several weeks before returning for a follow-up appointment.  Our sweet 18-month-old was moving in the right direction, more consistently pulling up on her feet, and expressing more interest in standing fully upright, so the therapist determined there was nothing physically wrong with her.  Diagnosis:  she was a very cautious child and would not attempt new things (i.e. walking on her own) until she was sure she could master them.

Simultaneously, I felt a sense of relief and a surge of impatience.  When would she be ready to do this on her own?  Would I have the only 2-year-old in town running around Chuck E Cheese on her knees?

The baby books all talked about the "normal" time frame for kids to reach certain milestones they said nothing about personalities factoring into the equation.  Maybe they should give Myers-Briggs testing to babies and toddlers so parents can be prepared to deviate from the norm.

A few weeks later, my husband and I took our daughter to a football game-watching party at a local tavern.  By this time, she would walk as long as one of us was holding her hand.  She spent much of the game parading us both around the restaurant prompting smiles from the other patrons.  At one point, we had taken a break from our expeditions to watch a good play in the game.  When we looked up, our tentative little walker was halfway across the restaurant! She had walked on her own!  My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief.  After weeks and months of coaching, she had chosen this time to set off on her own (and she wouldnt stop she walked around and around the restaurant for about an hour, until she wore herself out).  Not privy to all the baby books and milestone charts Id been agonizing over she had chosen to take this big step in her own time and on her own schedule.

I spent months wishing she would walk, instead of just enjoying her time as a baby, and ignoring warnings that my life would never be the same once she was mobile.  At the time, all I could think about was how her new-found mobility would free up my arms for other things and save my back from all the heavy lifting.  How quickly things change.

Gone are the days of taking a quick shower while my daughter sits entertained in front of a Baby Einstein video.  Now my showers are spent half under water, half chasing my daughter down the hallway to wrestle eyeliner and lipstick out of her hands. 

A recent afternoon of shopping turned into a game of hide-and-seek under clothing racks, as I sprinted through the store trying to corral a squirmy toddler who was squealing with laughter at the sight of her out-of-breath mommy. 

As I chased my daughter around the store, I realized three things:  1) Its a good idea to wear running shoes when shopping with a toddler; 2) you should pay attention to your girlfriends' advice, and 3) my little baby had officially become a little girl.

At that time, part of me ached for the days of crawling and knee-walking, and wished I had cherished that stage instead of being so anxious for her to reach the next milestone.  Now I wish she would slow down because my baby is growing up way too fast.

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Taking the Time

Before my young daughter was born, I imagined all the time we would have together taking leisurely walks, attending story time at the library, weekly playgroups and daily mommy-baby bonding time. 

Much of my third trimester was spent fantasizing about the fun my little girl and I would have once she arrived.  I carried this dream with me through the first week home with my new baby (I think the epidural made me delirious).  In that first week I was determined to be superwoman with a super clean house and a super clean and blissful baby. 

Sure, I'd heard that you should "nap when the baby naps," but there would be time for that later.  For now, I had to make sure that I was the perfect picture of Holly Homemaker.  Then reality set in during week two.  We were fortunate to have a baby who was a good sleeper but mommy was not taking advantage of this.  I was exhausted, sick and wondering whether I could even handle being a mother.

I thought if I could just get everything done then I would have some time.  I began marking days off the calendar and things off the To-do list to "get everything done" so I would have time to spend with my daughter.

Somehow days turned into weeks turned into months and my infant daughter has become a toddler. 

During a recent bout with a sinus infection contracted at a once-in-a-blue-moon playgroup no doubt I was sitting in the doctor's office and had an epiphany.  Really I was so bored staring at the floor while waiting for the doctor to see me, that I read the poster on the wall.  It was one of those inspirational posters you know the kind with a nature scene and an "ideal" that we all should aspire to.  This one titled, "Vision," read, "The future comes one day at a time, let each day be your masterpiece."

It was at that moment that it hit me.  In my haste to get everything done ASAP, I was missing the little moments that make life so special. 

I went home that night and hugged my daughter tight.  As usual, she was busy exploring --  the dog, her blocks the same things she sees every day, but somehow they are just as interesting and special to her as they were the day before.

Maybe I could learn a thing or two from her. 

She crawled over to me and handed me the same story that she always does that shell want me to read to her ten times in a row.  Normally I'm exasperated by the third reading.  This time I vow to appreciate her curiosity in all the details of each page -- the way shell point to every apple on the tree before letting me turn the page, and the way her face lights up each time we lift the flap and find the doggie.  I realize now that I should relish the moments we have together, her cuddled up on my lap reading stories, because soon enough she wont want to do this with me anymore.  I have come to appreciate that these are the things that matter in life.  The dishes and the vacuuming can wait.

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