Just Perfect

There are days, where upon waking up, you wish you could head back to bed.

For example, the morning, where at 6:25 a.m. the voice of your two year old echoes through the quiet house. "Mommy! Mommy! Get me Mommy! I awake!".

In those mornings, where dream time is cut short, and in its place cuddles are exchanged, life is good. Earlier than usual, but still good.

Bickering later on, with bagel breakfast missed, and the discovery that the old(er) car will require repairs more expensive than expected, would fail to give a preview.

Because in only a few hours time, the money, the missed breakfast, and the fight would be a thing of the past. In it's place, the glorious sunshine, the warm faces of a community together, and the giggles, oh the giggles make it all worth it.

Memorial day weekend gives us that first taste of summertime. The girls enjoyed all the street fair had to offer: horse rides, moon bounce, train rides, and the Whip It. Devouring ice cream cones, Mo declared, "This was a fantastic day!"

I couldn't agree more.

Mo does it by herself this year!

Daddy & Maeve on her first horse ride. 

Sweaty hugs are the best

Fun

So fun they had to ride it again!

Daddy Does It

Monday, Funday! Listicle time over at the Good Life, and who am I to skip a party?

This week the Dame de Listicles Stasha gave the pleasure of topic choosing to her better half, AKA Mr. Stasha errr...Mr. Good Life, or perhaps, the North West Daddy would be a good pseudonym. Anyway, it was he who suggested this week's topic:

10 Things Husbands Should Do

This list could not come at a better time over here in the Land of  'Zilla. Bry has been having some daddy issues. Not issues regarding his own father, but rather his worries as a parent. For some ungodly reason he has been having some doubts. I'd love to say it's because I am the rock star of all parents and that's what's given him a complex, but alas, that would be a lie. I do believe it has more to do with the time constraints his job places on his ability to hang out with our cherubs during waking hours. He wants to be with them more, and hates that he can't. Even though work keeps him from the girls, there is an absolute: 

He is a great father, PERIOD. 

And so, I'm changing it up a bit, my list is dedicated to: 

10 Things Bry Does That Make Him an Awesome Husband

1. He Tells me I'm Beautiful. 

It's the end of the day. The girls are in bed, I'm washing the last of the dishes in the sink, in an old t-shirt and pair of mesh shorts, when he'll come close, wrap his arms around me, and tell me how beautiful am I.

2. He Loves to Cook

I'm not talking burgers and hot dogs on the grill, or toast in the toaster. 

The man can cook. 

Steak with homemade Diane sauce and vegetable succotash was dinner Saturday evening. I swear if you give him a few cans, salt & pepper, and freezer stash, he'd pull a McGuyver, and have a three course meal in a little over an hour. 

3. He Chooses Us. 

He has opportunities to dine out, get drinks, and attend various functions that typical adults enjoy attending. He's had invites to sporting events and concerts, but at the end of the day, he passes. On most occasions, given the choice between a Jack & Coke or the three of us waiting at home, he'll chose us. 

4. He Works so I Don't Have To.

Yes, I stay at home with the girls, and to some this can be described as a job. But at the end of the day, regardless of the crap that ensues in the confines of these walls, I don't get a paycheck. Without him working his tail feather off, day in and out, I wouldn't have the luxury of play dough at two in the afternoon, or Wednesday morning trips to the Philadelphia Zoo. 

5. He's Not Scared of Vomit

I am. I gag. I can't deal. 

He has no problem with that. 

6. He Goes Out of His Way to Get me Things He Knows I Like

So maybe most of these are food, i.e. Ben & Jerry's ice cream, Peanut Butter Kandy Kakes, or chocolate chip cookies, but he really knows what I like. He'll be out picking up a few things and just because, I'll find a new type of tea, or bouquet of flowers on the counter. 

7. He Likes the Same Things As Me

The beach, our house, dining out, reading, Phillies & Union games, our girls,

these all are favorites of both of us. 

Now, if I can just get him to exercise.

8. He Knows His Boundaries

He is smart.

Smart enough to know that even though he is intelligent, reading the manual alone does not make him a competent electrician or plumber. He finds no guilt in contracting out tasks which he has no experience, and back to the manual. Before he puts things together, he reads it cover to cover. 

9. He Plays. 

I have seen a lot of parents consumed with technology or conversations with other parents when out with their children. 

Bryan never does this.
His full attention is focused on Mo & Maeve. Be it swimming in the ocean, playing tee-ball in the backyard, or a visit to the zoo, he is fully present in the moment. His phone is safely stashed in his pocket, and his attention is where it should be, with them. 

10. He Has Real Expectations

He has told me on numerous occasions that he could never do what I do. While stay at home fatherhood is a task he jokes he would love to have, he has confessed it's much too hard for him. After a few hours alone with the girls, he is done. Upon my return, often he gives me permission to return to work. Asking how I do it day in and out, because frankly, he doesn't know how I deal.

This enlightenment has given him real expectations as to what may and may not occur day to day at home. Rarely will he expect dinner on the table, a clean house, made beds, and laundry folded while children quietly play at my feet. In the instance they do occur, he is quick to throw me some accolades. That makes a good daddy & hubby. 

Does your husband do something that makes him awesome? 

Feel free to brag. 

Featured Poster!

I'm sharing it all today as a guest poster at Shell's Things I Can't Say! 
Swing over and read about a defining moment in the way I define myself.

Mommy Fail

It's the afternoon of Mother's Day.

While Maeve quietly naps in her crib, Bry has taken Mo up to the third floor playroom giving me the chance to curl up in my bed and nap.

Ah, sweet sleep.

It's only been about forty minutes when I hear the footsteps descending the stairs. Into our room they walk. Bry  first, nodding his head, while Mo follows behind. Her own blue eyes failing to make eye contact, as she enters our room.

Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I lean against the pillow. Without words, we share a glance. That parental look where without words, the shared experience that something big has gone down.

I gulp as he begins, "Tell your mommy what just happened."

She fails to lift her head, as she whispers, "I don't wanna. You tell daddy."

"We were having a great time upstairs, right Mo?"

"Yeah, daddy", she mutters, still head downturn.

"We played with some toys, and then Mo asked if we could play a game. She chose Zinga. What a great game, right Mo?"

Her eyes lift for a second here, and meet mine, "Yeah daddy."

Her focus returns back to the floor.

"Well, we played a few games. Do you know that Mo is really good at Zinga? She beat me three times in a row! We started another game and she got a little messed up. She picked up a piece she wasn't suppose to and then she said something naughty. What did you say, Mo?" he has taken a seat next to me on the bed, as she has moved behind his body, trying to hide her eyes from my own.

"I don't know" she mutters.

"Yes you do" he says forcefully. "Tell mommy what you said."

"Shit" she says.

Biting the inside of my mouth I try unsuccessfully to keep the laughter from escaping. "Why would you say that?" I ask. "That's not really nice."

Bry cuts me off, "You didn't say 'shit'. Tell mommy what you really said."

"What did you say Mo? I promise I won't be mad, if you tell me the truth." I plead.

Bry continues, "It's alright right now to say that word. You won't ever get in trouble for telling the truth. Mommy needs to hear what word you said."

The tears fill her eyes as her glance meets mine. "I don't want to" she cries.

"You need to tell mommy what you said." he goes on. "I know it's not nice, but tell her anyway."

Shaking her head, she looks up again, "No. I'm scared".

Brushing her bangs from her hair, he pulls her into his arms. "It's important you tell her."

"Okay daddy." she says. Turning her face to me, "I said fuck."

Fuck me.

There's only one person who made the mistake of saying this word a few times in front of Mo and Maeve.

It's me.

This is all my fault.

"Well Mo, that is really not a nice word. It's wrong when Mommy says it, and it's really hurtful. I'm sorry I said it, and I really hope you don't say it anymore. It hurts peoples' feelings and is not nice." I stammer.

Bry chimes in, "It really is the meanest word you can say, Mo. We don't want to hurt people, right? So let's not say this again, okay?"

"Okay daddy. I'm sorry" she concedes.

"Okay babe. I need you to go play in your room for a few minutes while I talk to mommy, okay?" he asks.

"Of course daddy. I'm so sorry." she adds, skipping out of the room.

I'm at a loss here.

I know this is entirely my fault. The girls are with me all the time. I know my loose lips are too blame. All too often I have let these things escape, falling on their ears.

He doesn't have to say word.

I'm wrong.
I'm to blame.
I messed up.

"I feel like crap. I really messed this one up." I say. "Happy Mother's Day to me!"

"Well," he starts, "You do have something to be proud of. She knows how to use it in context."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"She had messed up the little plastic piece, and looking up, with an exasperated sigh, she said, 'ah, Fuck!'. It was in a totally appropriate context, I mean, if you're looking to use fuck in context, this was the place. That's one of the reasons I figured we should talk it out. It wasn't like she just randomly threw it in conversation. She used it appropriately. Our kid already knows how to curse the right way." he finished, nodding his head the same way he did when he came into the room a few minutes before.

"Well, I guess I should be proud, right? She's pretty damn smart then, right?" I sighed.

"Ah, we all mess up, and I'll be honest. It's kind of nice seeing that this is pretty much all your fault. You're not a perfect parent after all." he says.

I'm nodding now as I say, "hardly the case of perfect parenting here. Sucky mom, that's what I am!"

He leans over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "Not a sucky mom" he says, "just one with a potty mouth".

Linking up with Erica M, and the best little blogger challenge:  Yeah Write.

Mother Knows Best

This week Stasha over at her Monday Listicles  gave us the choice to use the topic, 10 things we wish we could delete. She later confessed it was prevent us, her loyal listicle followers from thinking her cheesy. She did however stray from topic and wrote about Motherhood.

I too am following lead and will dedicate my list to Motherhood as well, and for that I present:

Ten Things I learned about Motherhood from my own Mom

1. It's never too early to plan. Thus it's perfectly acceptable to start Halloween costumes in July, buy Christmas gifts throughout the year, or initiate birthday party theme talk 10 months from the actual day. 

2. Find the right balance between serious and seriously funny. 

3. Consistency is paramount. Give children clear rules and expectations, implement punishments when necessary and reward when appropriate. 

4. Life goes by too fast to worry about the little things. Often they will fall into place and things will work out. 

5. Relax and trust your own intuition. 

6. Money isn't everything. 

7. When all else fails, order pizza. 

8. Laughter is the best medicine. 

9. One can never give enough hugs, and kisses. 

10. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what type of car is in the driveway or the places one's been, it's the relationships that matter. 

Bonus: the best piece of advice from my mother in law:

When you have a baby, she won't know if you're doing it right or wrong, so don't over think it. 

Just do it. 

What pieces of advice were helpful? Who shared them? Any other words of wisdom to share? 

Mother's Day Snap Shot

"What do you want to tell me today on Mother's Day", I ask as she's playing with her toys.

"Because you're the best." Mo says, looking up with a string of gold pearls around her neck.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're nice."

"What do you mean I'm nice?

"Because I love you."

"Is there anything else you want people to know about mommy?"

"I like to play about you."

"What does that mean?"

"Because I love everybody. I play with you."

"huh? Well what do you want to tell everyone."

"Happy Mother's Day to you, and all you computer people!"

She's four, immersed in her imaginative play. Of course, she can't be bothered by her mom.

Turning to Maeve, she's sitting on the arm of the chair. Lounging, finishing the rest of her cereal bar.

"Is there anything you want to say to mommy today?" I ask.

She looks up, away from the Wiggles and says, "Yup. Happy Birthday Mommy."

Looks like a perfect Mother's day to me! 

Tiger Mom in Training

Once upon a time I spent every day in a bathing suit.

From the age of fourteen through twenty, I spent six days a week in or around a swimming pool. Besides competitive swimming practice, my days were spent either as a lifeguard or teaching swim lessons. In that six year time period, I taught hundreds of people how to swim. Private lessons, group lessons, adult lessons, child lessons, I had done it all.

I knew it all.

Okay so maybe not it "all" but all one needed to be a really good swim teacher.

And then I had my own kids.

And I sucked.

I missed the window, so to be speak. That window of opportunity where my kid was filled with confidence and enthusiasm about the swimming pool.

Instead, I've got a hot mess!

Before Maeve's birth, I had enrolled Mo in parent child lessons. At under two years old, she loved swimming. Eagerly she would jump into my waiting arms, laughing and kicking, enjoying each moment.

Then it got to be too much. Having a newborn and a two year old, we put off swim lessons..

"We'll sign her up soon" we both promise.

One year passes and then another.

In the bath, just after the new year, she plays with her sister as usual, and I sit on the floor beside the tub.

"Put your face in a bit!" I instruct.

"No mommy. I no like it!" she barks. "I no like swimming!"

"Of course you do" I say, "Don't you want to go swimming in a pool?"

"No. I NO LIKE SWIMMING." her voice echoes through the bathroom this time.

"Hey Bry," I call, "Come in here for a sec. Mo has something to tell you."

Tears stream down her face as he enters the bathroom. Her breathing labors as she cries, "I no want to go swimming. I no like swim lessons. I not going to go!"

Way to go Jackie! Parent of the year over here!

Without delay, that night we join the Y, and enroll Mo in beginner swim lessons, which start the very next Monday.

As the weeks pass, her confidence builds as she becomes relaxed in the water, even finding confidence to jump in during the last class. Her well seasoned teacher is a Godsend, and Mo loves Miss T.

In the next session we find Mo's teacher to be a high school aged guy (Mr.B), who, Miss T confesses is only teaching his second session independently.

Wonderful!, I think, Let's hope he doesn't lose all the great stuff Mo got from Miss T.

Surprise, he is wonderful! Mo likes him, and he gives her just the right amount of support and instruction. I'll eat crow on that one.

As the session is coming close to an end, B gives recommendations to parents for the upcoming class sign ups. Glancing quickly, I notice Pike 1 is scrawled in pen.

No big deal.  It's only been two sessions, and my money's on the 2020 Olympics anyway.

I'm about to leave, ushering the toweled wrapped girls off the pool deck when B. makes his mistake.

Instead of leaving well enough alone, he catches my attention, stuttering a bit says, "Well I have Mo down for Pike 1. She's pretty close to being ready for Pike 2. We'll just see how she does these next two weeks, and then we can decide for next semester. She's pretty close you know."

Huh?

I have little time to digest this information before Mo begins squealing into my ear, "Panera! Panera! Panera! Panera please?" as Maeve tugs my leg, reaching her arms up for me hold her.

We have a problem here.

Apparently B. isn't familiar to the logistics of swim lesson sign ups.

Remember those concerts that sell out within minutes, leaving would be buyers thinking what just happened?

Sign up for swim lessons is exactly like that.

First come, first serve baby. I can't be waiting two weeks for my kid's instructor to decide whether she's in Pike 1 or Pike 2.

The early bird gets the worm, or in our case the most ideal class time, so Mama's got to make some big decision here.

As it is Sunday night, sign up's begin on Monday, which gives us one night to decide where to put Mo.

That night, after the girls are sleeping, I broach the subject with Bry. Filling him in with the brief conversation with B, the paper, and my own professional opinion of the situation.

"Well, sounds like we should sign her up for Pike 1 again." he starts. "I mean, this way she'll be comfortable and everything."

"Really?" I say.  "I definitely was thinking Pike 2."

"But B said, she's close, not there all the way yet. I wouldn't want her to hate it, you know? It's only been two sessions." he continues.

"Ah, she'll do fine!' I say confidently.

"Jac, she's only four. It's no big deal". he finishes. "We'll sign up later tonight".

"I guess you're right." I concede. "Pike 1 it is then."

And then like good parents everywhere, later that night,

we forget.

Two days later, I wake in a panic. My heart is beating fast, and a cold sweat has broken out over my brow.

I shove Bry awake. "We forgot to sign up the girls for swimming. We're going to get stuck with some crappy time!"

Getting downstairs a few minutes later he pulls the website on the computer.

"Saturday at nine, right?  for both girls, right?  This way it'll be easy for all of us." he asks.

"Sounds like a plan" I say.

"Um," he coughs, "We got a problem. Pike 1 is full."

"Is Pike 2 open?" I ask, making sure my eyes meet his.

"Well, yeah. But I thought.." he starts.

"Don't think. Sign her up for Pike 2." I assert. "She'll be fine."

"I'm holding you personally responsible if the shit hits the fan on this one" he says, securing Mo a space in the Pike 2 class.

"She'll be awesome." I say, "I just know it:"

Saturday morning comes and she is awesome.

For the record, it was me who never had any doubts that it would be any other way.


Time to get your read & vote on! Yeah Write #56 is in effect!

Morning Wake-Up

Rolling over I fluff my pillow under my head, stretch my self-diagnosed arthritic fingers, and squint my right eye open. The cable box flashes, "6:45" and I realize I have ten minutes, fifteen if I'm lucky.

Closing my eye, I fade away. I'm walking at Whole Foods, finding the clear plastic case. I press my face against the window and gaze longingly at the display of gelati. Chocolate, vanilla, pistachio, and cookie crumb taunt me, as I attempt to wave down the lady behind the counter.

"Mom"  I hear.

I point to the chocolate.

"Mommy" I hear again. "Mommy"

She has started scooping and my mouth is watering.

"Mommy, I awake! Hold you!"

I turn, open an eye and spy the cable box again.

6:55 a.m.

He rolls over, his snores fills the confines of the room, as I push the covers from my legs.

"Coming baby!" I reassure her, suppressing the yawn, and wiping the drool from the corner of my face.

6:56 a.m.

"Hi Shiny! Good morning Love!" I say.

Her baby fine hair sticks up in every direction as she reaches her arms from the crib, her words muddled from behind her paci, "Hi Ma. Mo s'eepin'?"

"Yeah babes. Mo still sleeping. Let's cuddle in my bed." I say, lifting her up. She nuzzles her head into my shoulder as I breathe her in, puppy in her grasp.

6:58 a.m.

Climbing back into the bed, she lies on top, her head still nuzzled against mine. I hear the familiar cadence of the sucking pacifier and feel her reaching for my hair.

"Close your eyes for a bit" I instruct, as she cuddles in.

I follow suit. Closing my eyes and letting my mind wander.

Before my eyes have a chance to open, the sound of her feet on the hardwoods echo into our room. As the doorknob twists, I slowly open my eyes, looking to the clock again, I see

7:09 a.m.

"Hi mommy. Where's Shine?" she says, standing in the doorway.

"Right here, babe" I say, as she tiptoes in.

Approaching the bed, she spies her little sister who has now taken residence between Bry and I.

"Hi Mo Mo." Maeve says.

Climbing over me like an obstacle at the playground, she smashes into her sister's face, attempting to fit between Maeve and Bry.

"Hurt me!" Maeve cries. "Mo hurt me!" she continues.

Bry stirs.

"Come closer Mo. Share the pillow with me." he says.

The clock reads 7:11 a.m. as I announce, "I gotta pee" as I head to the bathroom, for the rare pee in peace moment of the day.

Returning to the room it's now, 7:15 a.m.

"Let's go downstairs ladies" I begin, "Time to head on down."

"I'm going to stay with daddy and cuddle" Mo coos, Bry pulls her tight.

" 'kay Mom. I coming!" Maeve says.

We head into the kitchen. Grabbing the milk cups from the fridge, I hand Maeve hers.

"I help Mom. I pick bars" she asserts, as I allow her to chose the cereal bars.

She takes her food and drink into the family room, as I put the pot onto the stove top.

7:30 a.m.

The girls sit mesmerized by the dancing and singing on the television. In between sips of milk and bites of cereal bar they sing along to Fresh Beat Band. Walking in, balancing the cup of tea in one hand and the laptop in the other, I sit comfortably in my favorite chair, and put up my feet.

I glance up sometime later as the chorus echoes "We want Bubble Guppies!". The clock reads 7:45 a.m. as I grab the remote.

What happens in one hour of your day? 

This week Stasha , our Listicle Maven teamed up with Stacey, mama extrodinare of Stacey's Mothering Moments answer that. Feel free to link up!

Perspective

At ten months old, with a stolen sip of milk,  the hives take over her face.

In a frantic call to the pediatrician,  "bring her right over" I'm told.

Panic overtakes my belly, as Maeve giggles in the car seat.

"Most likely, we're looking at a milk allergy" the doctor responds after a five minute examination. "I recommend you make an appointment with a pediatric allergist as soon as possible."

Only a month later, I hold Maeve  in my arms as we are ushered to the exam room.

Sitting in my lap, blissfully unaware of what is to occur, she leans her head back onto my chest. Reaching her hand up, she finds my hair, and starts playing.

I take a deep breath as the nurse enters.

"We're going to do a scratch test. We'll test her for the most common allergies: milk, egg, peanuts, tree nuts, and wheat. You'll have to be here for a while, as we wait to see if she has a reaction."

Those big blue eyes meet my own as the tears stream down. She tries to scratch, as I bat her hand away.

"You'll be okay" I whisper into her ear, reassuring both of us in that moment.

I see the small bumps have formed in seven of the eight areas, allergic reactions to everything. Only the control group has failed to yield a hive.

The diagnosis hits like a weighted brick square in the chest:

milk,
egg,
peanut,
tree nut allergies,
and for good measure
a sensitivity to wheat.

What am I going to feed this kid?

No ice cream?
No grilled cheese?
No french toast?
No peanut butter and jelly?

Life goes on.

Over time, avoidance and substitution become the norm. Easily soy milk finds its place instead of cow's, jelly sandwiches minus peanut butter, Italian ice in place of ice cream. Benedryl and an epi pen always close by, just in case.

It surprises me, nearly a year later, that a blood test reveals the milk allergy may have dissipated. We are given a date to meet at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia to partake in a milk challenge.

Two weeks prior, a nurse from the allergist calls to further explain the process. Over the course of a morning she will consume milk in various quantities, while we wait in between, hoping for no reaction. We will be in the safety of the hospital, in the event an adverse reaction occurs. She is not to have any food or non clear liquid after midnight, and the process should take six to eight hours from start to finish.

"Do you think she'll pass?" Bry asks.

"I hope so" I respond. "It will be so much easier for her not to have this milk allergy".

On Wednesday, I wake at 5:15, and spend the next forty minutes feigning sleep, the anticipation of the day keeps me from rest.

At 6:55, we're heading to the hospital,  a cooler packed with cow's milk, soy milk, juice, soy yogurt, apple sauce and other foods, my laptop, assorted toys, and the diaper bag fill the car.

At 7:28 we find the waiting room and register

By 7:50, we're taken up to the floor.

We are showed our space. Formerly patient rooms, they have been modified to meet the needs of the four children who will challenge their food allergies on this day.

Maeve is weighed, her height is recorded and an overall exam is performed.

Not quite 8:15, they mix the powdered milk substance into the soy yogurt.

"Are you hungry?" the nurse asks.

"Yup!" Maeve responds, and eagerly accepts spoonfuls of the yogurt.

A timer is set for twenty minutes.

Finding the doll stroller in my bag, Maeve eagerly reaches for it. Adjusting her small baby doll inside, she pushes it out the room, down the hall. Stopping at the nurses station, a few feet again, we turn and walk back. We continue the pace for twenty minutes until the timer beeps.

With a quick assessment more yogurt is consumed. She finishes and grabs her stroller and off we go.

Repeat.
Repeat.

Braver with boundaries, our path gets longer with each walk. Pushing the plastic stroller she makes her way to the end of the hallway.

I hear the beeping through the open door and sneak a peek inside.

The room is open, filled with the bright overhead light, and five beds sit along the perimeter. Kids sit in each bed, tweens and teens, if I had to guess, each with an IV running to their arms. One works on a laptop, while another, a girl, sleeps, a protective mask over her face.

"C'mon mommy" Maeve pleads, bringing me back to reality. With a deep breath, I walk on.

I notice a bulletin board filled with information regarding sickle cell anemia and blood transfusions. In that moment, I discover the food challenge shares the floor with blood transfusions.

I spy Maeve ahead, walking gingerly, pushing her beloved stroller.

Our visit is just for the day.

Our tenure at this hospital will be over before it really begins. Our life will go on once with leave, with this day, this food challenge, just one more moment in our life.

The kids in the other room aren't so lucky.

This is their life, frequent visits to the hospital, lost hours spent hooked to machines. They are familiar with these halls, with these rooms, with this staff.

Their reality so different from ours.

I can't help but think how very lucky I am.

After no reaction from the powdered milk, Maeve is coerced into drinking four ounces of cow's milk through the addition of strawberry syrup and a straw.

We wait for another two hours, to ensure no latent reactions and when nothing occurs, are discharged with the loss of one milk allergy.

Walking out, our spirits filled, we stand outside the oncology department as we wait for the elevator to the parking deck.

Again, taking a deep breath, I take a minute to be thankful.

The following day, we celebrate with strawberry ice cream as the milk allergy is officially gone. 

Linking up with Erica M's newest venture, the Hangout Grid on Yeah Write

Also linking up with Shell, as I pour it all out.