Six Strong Hands on the Steering Wheel

Sometimes, when I look at my little monkeys, I'll think "Doesn't EVERYONE want three girls?" I'll listen to the Dixie Chicks and imagine the "girl power" that will emanate from my daughters (note to self: teach one of them how to play the fiddle). Or I'll get excited to pull out some of C and D's old clothes for Lila (one of the most surprising things I truly do enjoy. Once I got over not buying blue I have been thrilled to reuse so many cute things that I got as gifts or bought for C/D).

The problem is that people suck. They just can't help but say things that make me question my own happiness. For example, I go to the doctor yesterday for Lila's 2 month check up. The ped, who is not my regular doctor, says "Oh this baby is being raised by a village. She was born into a village." So first I have to think about what she was saying. I realize that she's referring to the size of my family (I'm not exactly octomom but whatever). So I smiled and said "Yeah, a village with a lot of estrogen." She says "Your poor husband." (Seriously, you're a pediatrician and you are saying this to me?) Or people fill me in on their own terrible experiences being the third sister with twin sisters (yes, I'm very concerned about our current family dynamic and it just thrills me to have someone reinforce that fear).

I realize that people just like to judge and comment, and if it weren't one thing it would be another. If it isn't the gender of your children it is the number you have....sometimes when people look shocked/disgusted when I say I might like a fourth I want to gently remind them that I actually come from a family of four kids--and my parents did it on purpose. And if it isn't the number of kids you have, it is probably the way they dress, the size of their feet, the sports they play, the school they attend, etc.

So clearly I just need to stop listening. But I have to admit, it bums me out when people rain on my happiness parade.

The Money Pit

C--wearing her tool belt--trying to help me build a cubby (while L is in the sling).


I realize that I am dating myself by referencing a movie with Shelley Long movie, but sometimes I think we might be living in the modern day equivalent. OK, we don't own the place, so we don't pay for most of these problems, but that doesn't make them much less of a daily pain in the ass. Examples: you blow a fuse if you run more than one appliance in the kitchen (ie. you can't run the toaster and the dishwasher--the inspection date on the fuse box is 1929); doorknobs occasionally come off in your hand; hot is cold and cold is hot in our shower; the water pressure is non-existent in the shower; and you can hear the heaters hiss from the steam. But if it were all niced up it would probably be out of our price range.

Which brings me to another point: I miss our old apartment. I mean I like our new one--it is very pretty even with its 'oldness' and I like the added space, but I miss our old home. It felt like it was really my first home. I mean I brought three kids home to it. And mostly, I miss our old neighborhood. We now live close enough to walk to school, which is great, and we live very close to a street of basic shops, but it is nothing like where we used to live. We used to have a great park a block from our house. We could walk to the Palace of Fine Arts to feed the ducks. We could walk to the beach--even better, I could run to the beach! There were tons of places to eat with our without kids and there were two movie theaters. In short, I could live 95% of my life without ever getting in the car. I miss it. A lot. And I almost feel like I've taken one step into suburbia somehow (without the yard).

So while I'm glad we moved, and I really like our new apartment and the extra space, I am very wistful of what has now become "that time when"--when we had two little monkeys and could walk just about everywhere.

LBD: 2 Months Old

At one month
At two months

Yesterday Lila B was two months old, and it is official: we've got ourselves a fat baby. Lila weighed in at 11lb, 9oz yesterday--75th percentile! She is 22.5 inches long-- 50th percentile, and her head is also 50th percentile. (At one month D was 20.5 inches long (35-50th percentile) and 8lb, 10oz (25th percentile)).

Other than really pissing me off with her comments (more on that later), the pediatrician we saw (I don't like my peds office but I'm just too busy right now to deal with changing) told me that D's physical behavior is ahead of her age (whatever that means). She already anticipates being picked up by stiffening her neck, and she can lift her head and neck up for a bit using her arms (cat pose in yoga?)

At home Lila is determined to make her presence known. She sleeps a lot during the day but REALLY likes it best when held. She isn't much into smiling yet, much to my chagrin. I get a smile now and then but I think it is as much gas as anything else. She's also not that much ino sleeping for long stretches at a time. Part of the problem is that I don't want to wake C and D up so I think I pick her up the minute she makes any noises. And maybe the biggest problem for this blog, she's still fussy in the evenings so I spend most of the evening after C/D go down holding her.

Tummy time--not just for babies anymore.

Her eyes are definitely not going to be blue (boo hoo) but they may be a green-brown. They look like they might be lighter than C and Ds. We'll see. Her pouty little lips are still pretty awesome. And she loves getting bathed and smells very sweet afterwards.

To Lila B, the story of your birth

Stocking Stuffer. And so much more.

You were an incredibly easy pregnancy. You gave me terrible insomnia, but other than that I can't complain much. You were due on January 6th and scheduled to arrive December 30th.

On December 22 I went in for a check up and my doctor said "This is a big baby." She also said I was 2-3 centimeters dilated. Yikes.

Christmas Eve I felt pretty bad, and C/D seemed a little under the weather. So, in very bad Catholic fashion, we opted out of going to mass because I didn't think standing that long would be good for me and I didn't want C/D to get worse. I can't actually remember much other than it was a VERY uneventful Christmas Eve (I think we may even have ordered pizza), which bummed me out because I love Christmas Eve. We did put the cookies, milk and carrots out--right outside the door of course.

Luckily I had gotten everything ready just in case I'd gone into labor (the idea that Santa is a man is a joke...who 'makes Christmas happen' in your family? Yeah, I thought so). so all I had to do was bring up the stockings and gifts from the office. And I have to admit, I was REALLY proud of the girls' stockings this year. I had started buying little things for them in September, and they were filled (all wrapped too!) with the things they love but that were also somewhat useful-bandaids, stickers, socks, a bath whistle, bath soap, some candy, etc. I was so excited for them to open them. The only person I didn't fill up was Andrew because I thought I'd wait until the am so he wouldn't see the stuff (not that there was a lot poor guy).

At about 4:40 on Christmas morning I woke up to contractions. Nothing new really, by that time I was waking all the time either to go to the bathroom or deal with contractions. I go to the bathroom and lay back down. The contractions don't stop, and I wonder if they seem to be getting stronger and closer together. Having never been in labor I have no clue....but I have a bad hunch. About 4:55 my rustling around wakes Andrew up and I tell him I think I might be going into labor. According to him, the actual quote was "Mother f*cker I think I'm going into labor." At 5am I stand up again thinking I might just be able to pee it out, and shoosh!! my water breaks. Now the thing that cracks me up is that when I finally got to the hospital they kept asking me "are you sure your water broke?" And if you have ever had your water broken you know what I'm talking about. "UH YEAH. I don't usually pee all over myself, and my pee doesn't usually come out like a geyser. I'm sure."

In the movies the water breaking is always an exciting but stressful thing. I promptly burst into tears. I didn't want to leave my girls on Christmas. I didn't want to have a random doctor. And I didn't want to have a baby on Christmas. After the last pregnancy I thought I deserved the kind of delivery everyone else had...normal. Ugh.

So I called my mom, crying. She said she and Chris were on their way. I love you more than anything Mom, but I wasn't sure what that meant, and my doctor had said I could go quickly given my dilation, so I drove myself to the hospital while Andrew waited for them. Yep. And I circled the block so I wouldn't have to pay to park in the parking lot (one benefit of having a kid christmas morning--no traffic). So I walk in to the OB emergency entrance and with a very sad face tell the nurse "I'm in labor." And she looks like she really feels sorry for me.

So we go through the admitting process and I am contracting, and I have a question: HOW DOES ANYONE DO NATURAL CHILDBIRTH???? Those contractions freaking HURT. I am in awe of anyone who does. I kept asking when the spinal came into play...apparently not until I got into the operating room. Andrew shows up. Then we just have to wait for Lofquist, the doctor on call, to get done with another delivery. We look at your monitor and I realize that all that heart rate/gender prediction stuff is bs, because you are riding at about 120 the entire time, except when I contract, when you go up to 160. They tell us they are ready at about 6:40. We take one last belly pic and Andrew takes a mask pic for C and D and we walk up.

In the operating room I'm contracting and know the doctor thinks I am a total wimp because I'm having trouble sitting still for him while he inserts the spinal (did I mention those contractions hurt?) I am feeling dizzy, my blood pressure is low, I can't remember how they fix it, but they do. The OB on call is very capable but a little dry. It is the last delivery for these people on the night shift before they head home to their families for Christmas. Needless to say they are anxious to get out of there. I miss my OB. I ask this one about the steroids to help with the scar. She says they might not have them in the hospital in which case I'm SOL. They do which is nice. I ask about 'taking some of the fat out' which my doctor said she would do for me (another reason to go for #4!) and she looks at me like I'm on crack.

Andrew comes in and they get the show rolling. I swear I may have had a little too much meds because because I am actually having trouble staying awake. This time around I know what to expect so the pulling doesn't bother me. They don't let andrew look because he hasn't had breakfast yet. They pull you out, and I hear Andrew say "It's a girl."

Now I might delete this paragraph later. But let me tell you I was shocked. I was sure you were a boy. Every Asian woman in San Francisco (and there are many) was sure you were a boy. The ureter issue is almost always a boy problem. And yes, I wanted a boy. (Then again, I'm a second girl and Andrew is a second boy, and we rock, and we think our parents are so lucky to have had us!!!) Mostly because I worry so much that you will be left out more, and I think it will be hard to be a girl after identical twin girls. And because I love having brothers and wanted my girls to have that too. But I'm telling you this not because I don't adore you, but because I urge every woman considering not finding out to think long and hard about it. If you really don't care, go for it. But that 'It will be so great' usually comes from people who get what they expected. Or people who really have that instant "I feel one with my baby" feeling. I'm not that person. I worship my kids, but when they first come out I realize I feel a little bit like "Hey, that's a baby. Cool" not "You and I were meant for each other." My sweet mother-in-law kept asking me if I was going to find out, and I thought she was thinking more of the convenience. Now I realize she was just trying to help me avoid what might not be the moment I expected it to be. I was in shock, and instead of celebrating the miracle of you, me and my hormonal body were completely confused, and I feel like I lost some precious moments grieving what could have been instead of celebrating the wondrous thing that was. I definitely won't make that mistake again. : )

So out you came, and honestly, a lot of the delivery room is a blur. You went to the Fat Baby nursery...because you were fat! The combined weight of C and D in fact...to the ounce. The pediatrician on call that week said before she knew you were 'her baby' to look after she was admiring how much your father was ooing and ahhing over you after birth. Then together you and I were wheeled into our tiny hospital room. Later you met your sisters and grandparents, but then you and I had most of the day to get to know each other, because having a baby on Christmas is actually a pretty lonely experience (and TV at Christmas sucks!) So we got some nice hang time. That's what I will remember most from my stay in the hospital. A lot of you and me time. And I liked that. (Oh, and your umbilical "stump" fell off after 2 days, which apparently happens to about '1 in 1000 babies' according to the nurse. Clearly you are already very advanced. : ))

And let it be said, you were the prettiest baby in the nursery. Not a lot of competition on Christmas maybe, but still, you were the prettiest. (I was the ugliest baby in the nursery--ask my mom). And while my heart still breaks a little for C and D on that day (There are quotes at school on the wall, from the kids about what they did on vacation. The one from Dylan says "My baby comes. It was not fun because she came on Christmas, and my mommy was bleeding." That and C and D can't figure out what Andrew did that was so bad Santa didn't put anything in his stocking), for you, I am glad. Because it means you are special. And because no one will A) forget your birthday or B) complain when I celebrate it every year on June 25th. And because Christmas is my favorite time of year--I'm not a Thanksgiving girl so I usually go right from Halloween to Christmas preparation. Which now means I get an entire season of anticipating not just Christmas, but your birthday!!! (And because Dec 26th might actually be the worst day of the year to be born, unless you live in England). And because my mother can laugh her ass off that the kid who bitched about having a Christmas birthday actually had a kid on Christmas freaking Day. Seriously though, my parents always did a good job of making me feel like I was special for having a Christmastime birthday, and I hope to do the same for you.
If 10 years ago someone would have asked me if there was anything I really didn't want to happen (I mean outside of actual bad things), I'd probably say I wouldn't want to have three girls and I definitely would never want a kid born around Christmas. Which just means that you must be exactly what I need. You sweet, beautiful, special little thing. Thursday's Child has far to go. I see big things for you Miss Lila B. And I'm so thrilled to have you on the team.

CMD and DRD: 3 Years Old (+ one month)

At their birthday celebration at school (C w/ pink crown). Friday afternoons are tiring : )

Their birthday celebration at home the morning after we moved.

Alright, so I'm a little behind this year. Tonight was my deadline to get this in (and let's be honest, it is actually march 10...how freakin' embarrassing is that? it would be in earlier if Lila actually SLEPT).

Both of you
• Your favorite word is “Why.” You ask it 25 times a day. You turn it into a 4 syllable word. You say it with a bit of a whine.
• You like to play ‘baby.’ We try to discourage you from it at our house but you get free reign at my mom’s house. You like to suck on pacifiers, drink out of bottles, and sit in bouncy chairs. You think it is a blast.
• Your favorite activities:
o Going to the park—climbing on anything, swinging on the monkey bars, sliding, etc.
o Arts and crafts of just about any kind, especially beading
o Swimming
o Gymnastics
• You aren’t yet into more of the ‘girly’ things that people do. We gave you dolls, moses baskets, and baby bjorns when Lila B was born and you liked them for about two days. You love strollers but mostly because you like to push them around with a vengeance. The dolls just end up being pains because they fly out of the strollers. You also don’t love dress up yet. You got tutus from my mom for your birthday and you wear them (nothing better than a see-through-tutu over Thomas the train boy briefs) but you are much more likely to want to wear the giraffe costume.
• You love school. When I ask you who you played with at school you usually answer “Hayden” “Cole” or “Zach.” You clearly have good taste because they are the cuties of the class. Lucy, Hayley, and Hannah are a few of the girls you like to hang with..
• You don’t watch much tv, but when you do it is either sports or Blues Clues. “A Clue! A Clue!” Elmo’s World is still popular, but certain things in Elmo scare the hell out of you. You have watched Dora once but you didn’t really take to it.
• You are starting to ask questions that are hard for me to answer. “How do I get to heaven?” “How does a baby get in your belly?” “Where was I? (Whenever I talk about anything I did before you were born).
• You are very into Obama and his daughters. If you see a picture of Obama you’ll yell “I see Obama!!!!!!!!” Almost like “I spy.” You always ask me about Sasha and Malia and you want to know which one is the big one, which one plays on the basketball team, etc.
• You love your little sister. In the hospital it was C who was all over her, and lately it has been D who has been incredibly focused on her. But both of you accepted her immediately as part of the family. You often remind me not to ‘forget her’ and only occasionally do you ask me to ‘drop her’ so I can help you with something. (C did tell me the other day that “I want the next one to be a boy” but I can’t really blame her for wanting to add some variety into the mix).
• You recently started asking to nap in separate rooms. When I told Andrew he said “I don’t know how I feel about that. It sort of makes me sad.” (It makes me sad because you nap much longer when you nap separately, and I keep thinking of all the hours of peace and quiet I may have lost in the past three years because I didn’t have separate rooms to put you in). Not to worry though, you still yell through the walls to each other. But I think you just like a little alone time to do your things, and I understand completely.
• You adore each other. It is like you are wired to love each other. When you nap in separate rooms you wake up calling not for me but for each other. You want to know exactly what the other one did, down to “Did Charlotte use this toothbrush?” “Did Dylan ask you to help her onto the potty?” “Which chair did Charlotte sit in?” You like to be apart for a little bit but are thrilled to be reunited. If one of you naps too long the other gets bored and wants to go in and wake her sister. You’ll lie for each other to get the other out of trouble (even if she is in trouble for injuring you. You are generally willing to share just about anything with each other—you’ll even give your last cracker or cookie to the other. We are so used to you being generally very nice to each other that most of it escapes our notice, but every once in a while something happens that makes me realize just how much you love each other. The other night D was kind of melting down because she wanted me to pick her pjs and I was in the living room feeding LBD. All of a sudden C lumbers in carrying this huge drawer. She’d brought the pajama drawer into the living room. She says “Here Dywan, now Mommy can pick your PJs out. And I put a diaper in there too.” We almost cried it was so sweet. I feel so lucky that you love each other so much. And I worry I will do something to come between the two of you.

Charlotte

• You have this funny voice you sometimes use where you crinkle your nose and raise your front lip when you speak. When you speak like this you often end your sentences with “So, um…” You say some of your sweetest things in this voice.
• You are still obsessed with pink. You often look like a bottle of Pepto Bismal.
• Your bedtime ritual includes getting as many books as you can get in your bed, as many animals as you can get in your bed, and as many blankets you can get in your bed. You have usurped a few of the ‘loveys’ that Lila has gotten as gifts (you do promise that you are just ‘borrowing them’ or ‘keeping them for her.’) You also want ‘new water’ each time and you insist that I zip your crib tent “inside” so you can unzip it yourself.
• You love to sing the “Shabbat song.” You love Friday night Shabbat. You get up, clap, and dance around.
• You get upset when my hair is not in a ponytail. Or when I’m wearing something you don’t like. You’ll kind of shake your head and say “Mommy, don’t wear that.” It is like fast forwarding to my future.
• You are hitting the threes with a vengeance. You can be a little difficult. Sometimes your reactions to the consequences are pretty funny. “I want to make a deal.”
• At least you are learning a little about your own emotions and what leads you to your occasional tantrums. The other day you were throwing a bit of a tantrum and I was asking you to calm down. Upset, you said “I’m trying to stop whining but I can’t! I can’t stop whining. Can you please help me stop whining?” Then when you worked yourself into a crying tizzy you started asking, “Can you please help calm me down?” Of course I did.
• You are a parrot (your teachers agree). You pick up phrases and you use them. Most of the time in the right way but sometimes just a bit off, which makes for very funny results. We took a book away from you at bedtime and for 30 minutes you yelled “It’s no big deal! I can handle it! Give me the book back!”
• You love mermaids. You call everything a mermaid…princesses are “mermaids with skirts.’ The princess diapers I broke down and let you buy are “mermaid diapers.” You don’t know what Cinderella’s name is so you have called her “Samir” (because you have a teacher Samir and a teacher Ariel, and you know that the Little Mermaid is named Ariel so I guess you just assume that all ‘mermaids’ have teachers’ names). I want to laugh out loud when you call it the “Samir diaper” and I will cry the day you figure out her real name.
• You like things to go your way. One day we decided to flip a coin to determine who would go to the hardware store with Andrew. I asked you which side you wanted, heads or tails. Your answer: “I want the side that says I get to go with Daddy.” Or when we were splitting a cupcake one day and you wanted me to split it “this way” (which basically meant you got the top with all the frosting and D would just get the bottom—nice try). When we bathe at night you always want to get out second so you’ll say “Do eeny meeny miny mo and end with Dylan.”
• Your favorite book to bring into bed is “Busy Busy Town.”
• You are still a pretty good eater. You do have a major sweet tooth (like your mom) and you love all fruits except mangoes. You also like bacon a lot.
• You need a lot of love. You can be fragile and even a little needy at times if you don’t think you are getting the attention and love you deserve. You have definitely had a hard time with all the changes—new sibling, new apartment, etc. You want to make sure we haven’t forgotten you.
• You give a lot of love. You sometimes just look at me smile, and throw your arms around me and give me a very strong hug. Sometimes you’ll kiss me 20 times in a row. Whenever I talk about things in the future (ie. “maybe you’ll live in Paris someday” or “Maybe you’ll go to X school someday”) you’ll always look a little scared and then smile and say “With you?? You’ll be with me Mommy!”

Dylan
• You are 27 (5th percentile) pounds and 35.5(what we measured you at) or 36 inches (25th percentile and what the doctors measured you at).
• You can jump. You can swing a bit on the monkey bars. Hopping is a bit of a stretch.

• Brown is your favorite color. For your birthday at school they made you crowns--C's was pink, yours was brown. You almost always pick out boys clothes in stores.
  • You still run with a bit of a gait. You exaggerate your right side a bit. It worries me but you are so active it doesn’t seem to slow you down.
  • You love to dance. You often dance by leaning over, putting your elbows out to your side, and kinda moving your head from side to side.
  • You remember A LOT. Sometimes you try to remember something and you ask for my help but I have no idea what you are talking about. This really pisses you off. I’ll say “I’m not sure I remember.” You’ll start yelling “No, you do……” where do is about ten seconds long. I feel so bad because I know you are thinking of something specific but can’t articulate it to me. The other day I realized you were trying to remember the time I had my blood drawn when I was about 3 months pregnant. I couldn’t believe that was what you were getting at, but you remembered it in detail once I figured out what you were talking about (it is like playing 20 questions). The other day you ‘remembered’ all the ridiculous details of going through security at the airport—when we went last April. (It sometimes feels a bit like the “Chris Farley Show”—“Remember that time when you…”).
  • When you try to blow bubbles it sounds like you are making the ‘letter F” sound. Needless to say you kinda suck at blowing bubbles, but you don’t know that. You’ll say “these bubbles are broken.”
  • You have VERY specific clothing taste. Your favorites are your fish shirt (turquoise swim school shirt I got for free) your airplane shirt, anything brown, your Thomas briefs, and the black butterfly shirt you have had forever. You also like to ‘lay out’ your clothes before you wear them. I have no idea where you learned to do that. God help the person who messes with your clothes when they are laid out.

• You still have ‘accidents’ on a relatively frequent basis. It doesn’t really bother you though. You’re kinda like “I peed. I need new Thomas underwear. Whatever.” Sometimes you have accidents and don’t tell anyone because you don’t want to stop playing.
• Your favorite books: “Big Maisy,” “Little Maisy,” “Thomas”, –you don’t like me to read them but you insist on having them in your bed at night. If I try to put a new book into your bed you’ll often complain, “But I don’t know how to read that book.”

• You still love giraffes. You also love Oski.
• You have some of the funniest body and facial expressions I have ever seen. You put your hands on your hips a lot. You say things and it is like watching myself because you mimic my facial expressions. Sometimes you’ll put your hands on your chin when you are pondering things and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud. As Andrew said tonight, “D, you are one of a kind. They broke the mold when they made you.”
• You are generally very easy going but you have a few things that really set you off, including: you don't like lotion on your cheeks, you want me to zip your crib tent "all the way so it doesn't hurt your fingers," you don't like barbecue sauce, and you don't like other people messing with your animals. You also like to soothe yourself by rubbing your face in your 'blankie.'
• You are incredibly sweet to Lila. You are always worrying about her and you love to give her what she needs, be it a pacifier, toys, a hat, etc. You are like a little fairy who leaves things for her to play with or runs around finding a hat for her.
  

Happy birthday a little late. I love you monkeys.

Get your Cheer Face On

I already have my mother to thank for my sanity. Now I have Chris to thank for introducing my girls to the wonderful world of sports (at least live sporting events). For those of you who don't know, my stepfather is an obsessive Cal fan. Every school needs a fan like him. He supports all sports, not just men's basketball and football.

He's already taken C and D to two women's basketball games--and they loved it. And no, I am not a Cal fan, but Cand D certainly are now. A few funny stories related to their excursions:

My Mom bought them those foam fingers at the student store. C wanted to buy one for "Daddy" but my Mom said he probably wouldn't want from Cal. Without a moment's hesitation C walked right up to the counter and asked, "Do you have a Duke finger?" Needless to say they didn't. So D walked up and asked, "How about a Stanford finger for Mommy?" You can guess what kind of "finger" response that got from the Cal students (actually, they were very nice apparently).


I was talking to C and D about the game and all the festivities. I said, "Do you think you'll be a cheerleader or a basketball player someday?"
C: "I'm going to be a cheerleader." (Big surprise)
D: "I'm going to be Oskie (the bear)." You go girl.

Here they are (C in white)....Check out the spin. I look at this video and I see a vacation 10 years from now where they rope Luca Racciatti into a 'performance' by the pool. (And I can hear KC laughing at the thought of it).

Dyleon Dynamite

Happy Birthday Grandpa Michael

We were a little late in getting there this year (it is 1/25), but we made it yesterday. It was a little difficult this year because they asked a lot about Grandpa Michael and they didn't understand why he couldn't come back from heaven to meet them (and really, how do you explain heaven to a kid? or to yourself for that matter?) They actually really enjoyed being there until the lawnmowers came along--those scared the bejeezuz out of them.

And I got to "introduce" (so to speak) my newest monkey. And that was special for me.

I dare you to look this cool today...

The blogs I need to post (Lila's birth, C/D's Third birthday, moving) are too much to do w/ no sleep and no husband (yes, he's traveling a lot again), so we'll get to them in time. But for now, here are C and D as they head off to gymnastics class the past two weeks. They have to wear the pink leotard, but the gym is cold and so they need to add 'layers.' And layers they've got. And yes, that is a giraffe headband on D.

And just in case you need any band aids, this is what we realized we had when we corralled all of our band aids during the move.