As you all know, its been a helluva month/months/years....I honestly don't know how long its been. I do know that we are living through cray cray times. "My Corona" has got us all living like we're imaginary characters dreamed up inside Rod Serling's head on a very potent LSD trip. Everyone wearing masks, staring blankly into space, trying not to scream "why god" out loud over and over (just me?). We are all in this together, yes....but we are also all experiencing our own, incredibly unique episode of "The Twilight Zone". So, I thought I'd share a bit of mine...
"There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow; between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination, it is an area which we call..." The Corona Zone.
The day they announced schools would be closing I went into a kind of denial. Homeschooling was never an option or desire of mine. Like ever. Didn't even cross my mind as a possibility in the realm of possibilities. I would have rather worked in a coal mine than try to teach my child how to read. Ok, slight exaggeration but you get my point. The day Benny went to kindergarten I did not cry tears of sadness that my baby was grown, but rather tears of joy and gratitude. I would finally be able to poop in compete silence and peace! And that was a gift from the Gods. But alas, there was no choice in the matter. So, back in March, I became homeschooling mama (along with every other mom). I assumed it would be more of an anarchist education. We'd wake up around 10:00, watch some educational youtube videos about orbeez or nerf guns whilst I slowly sipped my coffee, then we'd take a walk in a park and Benny would climb trees, then we'd eat a long lunch, then learn about frogs or the history of hip hop. This has not been the routine. At all. I have realized, amongst other things, I am not very good at creating routine in the home. "Not very good" is a vast understatement. I am horrible at creating routine. I've written out several apocalypse schedules, stuck to each for about 3 days on average, and then totally crumbled. I was a stay-at-home mom, doing it solo, for the first 5 years of Benny's life...minus the "stay-at-home" part. We were always off on an adventure or three. Always on the move. Going from playground to children's museum to playground to walk. We moved around so much I was often occupied with packing, unpacking, finding the new playgrounds, or trying to remember which zip code my debit card was associated with currently. I always thought it was for Benny's sake, but, since this isolation has occurred, I have realized it was really for me. I thought I was very chill and good at being still. Turns out not so much. I needed the movement. I needed the constant change. I needed to escape the emotions hunting me down. I couldn't dare let them catch up.
Now I am left with a child who is 0% capable of entertaining himself. Before this shit-show began I had him in 4 extracurricular activities and had 2-3 playdates scheduled per week. It was like being a personal assistant to a celebrity at times! I knew it was over the top but I did it anyway. Now I am paying the price. He is bored, even depressed at times it seems. I feel like I have failed him and his developing imagination. I need to find a way to shift this dynamic.
A couple of weeks into this adventure, I also had the pleasure of breaking my ankle! Yahoo! This has made the experience infinitely more difficult. For the first few weeks I was on crutches and just taking a bath a day felt like a huge accomplishment. Now, infinity weeks later, I am still in the big, heavy, cumbersome boot. More lessons learned through this delightful experience. I am a bit crazy about the level of organization in my house (ok I knew this already but I honestly thought I had mostly dropped it). Not being able to clean up messes almost drove me to the loony bin. I do not, by any standards, keep a spotless home. I do, however, like to feel some semblance of peace and order in the home. The ankle would not allow this. Crazy-making. I swore out loud more than once at those damn crutches too. We had a love/hate relationship for sure...but I'm happy we have now parted ways.
Now to the mental health portion of this. I have struggled for years with anxiety, in particular the social variety. It took me meds, work, practice, getting back off the meds, therapy, and lots of courage to work through this and cultivate a social life here. When the corona broke, I was at a peak in my life. I had busted out of my self-imposed isolation and had a healthy balance of socializing. I no longer got panicked about going to the grocery store or the possibility of seeing someone when I went to get the mail. I had started substitute teaching and I showed up to almost all of my in-person classes. I started to date someone for the first time in years. Benny was doing wonderfully in school and at home. We were down to one hour of screen time per day for the most part. Life was better than it had been possibly ever for us. Then...boom. I was forced into the isolation that was previously my comfort space. Yes, we have a nice home and yes, my income does not depend on substituting. I know we are very fortunate. But my anxiety didn't get the memo. The longer this goes on, the weirder I am becoming about socialization. It started with not wanting to talk on the phone anymore, then not wanting to go to the store (even when I finally could). I am feeling like I don't want to see or talk to anyone outside of or home (which I know is kind of the point but this feels different). My anxiety is returning and that scares me. A lot.
So, with all that being said....if you know me at all you know I'm going to look for the brightest side of this coin. I like to bitch but I do not like to dwell. Yes, this has been really really hard. But, as always, with the darkness comes the light. Like I said we are fortunate and this has not impacted our ability to be financially stable. We are healthy and have plenty to entertain us in the home. We live in a beautiful home in an amazing neighborhood. The kids still have outdoor only playtime which is a saving grace for Benny. I am still with the wonderful man I was dating when this all busted open, and he has been taking care of me through this. He has really stepped up to the plate for me/us and I cannot be more grateful. Falling in love during this has been strange, but has also made this experience so much easier. I honestly think I might have chopped the whole foot off and made a wooden one if he had not been here to support me! Another positive has been with Benny's level of capability. Before this I catered to him too much (another broken ankle realization). His nickname, in fact, is "Little Lord Fauntleroy". I knew it was bad when my 11 year old nephew had to tell me that Benny was old enough to get his own water now! So this experience has made him slightly more independent, which was necessary.
I still feel enormous guilt for the amount of time Benny has spent on the screen and I feel I am losing my creativity and intelligence more every day. It is hard, no doubt, but I know (hope) it won't last forever and we will get through to the other side...ever more appreciative of the little adventures, friends, and school.
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Friday, February 28, 2020
Connection through Community
Today was magic.
It started with the usual get-up-and-rush routine to which Benny and I have become grumpily accustomed. Let the alarm go off, hit snooze, roll over, hit snooze 8 more times, finally get up in a mad rush to make coffee, feed the cats, get Benny breakfast, turn on a show, and scream like a military drill sergeant for him to get dressed. Then hurry, in a mad frenzy, out to the disgustingly messy car. Drive him to school (usually in my pjs), experience some sweet early morning road rage, and arrive just in time to not be counted as tardy. I give him a kiss on the forehead and tell him I love him. He turns to tell me he loves me too.
Go back home. Shower. Drink more coffee. Brush up on my Spanish.
I've had the liquid shits for two days anticipating this next move. I am getting back to "work" (outside the home) for the first time in almost 8 years! I put work in quotes because I have actually worked harder from home over the last eight years than I have ever in my lifetime. It has been exhausting, rewarding, crazy-making, constant, and worth every second. I am so grateful I have been able to spend time with and watch my son grow up to be an amazing little human. But now I've got to get that cash money. So, I had my very first substitute teaching gig. I was terrified. I didn't know if I could handle a random classroom of kids thrown at me. I was so afraid I would mess it up, not have the energy, say something inappropriate to a kid, get a spit wad flung at me. But I showed up. I faced the ever-present anxiety. I dived directly into the deep end of the pool; no swimmies. Turns out, it went swimmingly (had to)! It was a bit chaotic at first as the teacher spoke very little English and explained everything quickly. But I opened myself to the kids. They stepped up to help. They showed me the technology, gave me the rundown of the routine, and were just wonderful. We did great together. I helped them find topics for their speeches and gave them advice on writing techniques, we came up with our very own Harry Potter quiz, I got to know their names and individual personalities a bit, and we connected quickly. It was so easy to care about them, to see them, to like them. They helped me and I helped them. The relationship was more symbiotic than I had expected. As we got ready to leave for the day three of the kids wanted to know if I could come back to teach them again. My heart was full.
Go back home. Have a piece of toast. Head out again.
I took that energy of connection and brought it into my next event of the day. Benny's school had a burst pipe and got flooded this morning (one of the round buildings that contains four classrooms). They were calling for help to move out furniture, papers, books, etc. It is a very small school and they depend on community support to get a lot done there. Usually I shy away from anything involving conversations with unknown parents and teachers. But, rising on the wave of connection I had formed in the classroom, I showed up. I, yet again, dove right in. Started lifting furniture, packing boxes, connecting with other parents and teachers I hadn't yet met. I took down paper birds made by the children off the walls and tried to preserve each unique piece. I talked to Benny's art teacher who told me he is very focused and extremely talented. I saw these teachers, parents, and kids all working together to get this done as quickly and with as much care as possible. My heart swelled at the dedication of these educators and parents. The school that was formed by a teacher who wanted more for the children of this community. A school run by its teachers. A school my son is fortunate enough to attend.
Drive home. Drop Benny off at the mailbox. He ran over to the neighbors before I could even park!
The neighbors had graciously invited us over for a nerf gun battle and campfire (the second neighbor fire this week). I walked over to friendly greetings, snacks, and drinks. Benny was already deep in the play zone with his buddies. I was excited to be amongst other adults. We sat around the fire and talked. We joked, shared, went ever deeper into the conversation. We discussed politics, 9/11, child rearing, love, loss, and poop. The sun set was too beautiful to capture in a photograph. The background music was perfect. It felt like a therapy session, comedy show, and much-needed stress reliever all rolled into one. I looked around amazed at what I am fortunate enough to have here, in my own backyard. Community. Tribe. We realized we had to end the night (to my dismay). We walked inside and the kids were creating art and paper airplanes while one read her own book of funny quotes. I realized through all the difficulty and exhaustion, we have raised some pretty amazing children. My heart is full.
We need this, as humans. We are an interdependent species. We need connections, and not just of the romantic kind. We need friends, neighbors, children, and communities. We need intimate connections and realness. We all need help and we need to be needed. It is as important as food, water, and air in my opinion. I am so grateful for this reminder today and so fortunate to have found this here. I am home.
It started with the usual get-up-and-rush routine to which Benny and I have become grumpily accustomed. Let the alarm go off, hit snooze, roll over, hit snooze 8 more times, finally get up in a mad rush to make coffee, feed the cats, get Benny breakfast, turn on a show, and scream like a military drill sergeant for him to get dressed. Then hurry, in a mad frenzy, out to the disgustingly messy car. Drive him to school (usually in my pjs), experience some sweet early morning road rage, and arrive just in time to not be counted as tardy. I give him a kiss on the forehead and tell him I love him. He turns to tell me he loves me too.
Go back home. Shower. Drink more coffee. Brush up on my Spanish.
I've had the liquid shits for two days anticipating this next move. I am getting back to "work" (outside the home) for the first time in almost 8 years! I put work in quotes because I have actually worked harder from home over the last eight years than I have ever in my lifetime. It has been exhausting, rewarding, crazy-making, constant, and worth every second. I am so grateful I have been able to spend time with and watch my son grow up to be an amazing little human. But now I've got to get that cash money. So, I had my very first substitute teaching gig. I was terrified. I didn't know if I could handle a random classroom of kids thrown at me. I was so afraid I would mess it up, not have the energy, say something inappropriate to a kid, get a spit wad flung at me. But I showed up. I faced the ever-present anxiety. I dived directly into the deep end of the pool; no swimmies. Turns out, it went swimmingly (had to)! It was a bit chaotic at first as the teacher spoke very little English and explained everything quickly. But I opened myself to the kids. They stepped up to help. They showed me the technology, gave me the rundown of the routine, and were just wonderful. We did great together. I helped them find topics for their speeches and gave them advice on writing techniques, we came up with our very own Harry Potter quiz, I got to know their names and individual personalities a bit, and we connected quickly. It was so easy to care about them, to see them, to like them. They helped me and I helped them. The relationship was more symbiotic than I had expected. As we got ready to leave for the day three of the kids wanted to know if I could come back to teach them again. My heart was full.
Go back home. Have a piece of toast. Head out again.
I took that energy of connection and brought it into my next event of the day. Benny's school had a burst pipe and got flooded this morning (one of the round buildings that contains four classrooms). They were calling for help to move out furniture, papers, books, etc. It is a very small school and they depend on community support to get a lot done there. Usually I shy away from anything involving conversations with unknown parents and teachers. But, rising on the wave of connection I had formed in the classroom, I showed up. I, yet again, dove right in. Started lifting furniture, packing boxes, connecting with other parents and teachers I hadn't yet met. I took down paper birds made by the children off the walls and tried to preserve each unique piece. I talked to Benny's art teacher who told me he is very focused and extremely talented. I saw these teachers, parents, and kids all working together to get this done as quickly and with as much care as possible. My heart swelled at the dedication of these educators and parents. The school that was formed by a teacher who wanted more for the children of this community. A school run by its teachers. A school my son is fortunate enough to attend.
Drive home. Drop Benny off at the mailbox. He ran over to the neighbors before I could even park!
The neighbors had graciously invited us over for a nerf gun battle and campfire (the second neighbor fire this week). I walked over to friendly greetings, snacks, and drinks. Benny was already deep in the play zone with his buddies. I was excited to be amongst other adults. We sat around the fire and talked. We joked, shared, went ever deeper into the conversation. We discussed politics, 9/11, child rearing, love, loss, and poop. The sun set was too beautiful to capture in a photograph. The background music was perfect. It felt like a therapy session, comedy show, and much-needed stress reliever all rolled into one. I looked around amazed at what I am fortunate enough to have here, in my own backyard. Community. Tribe. We realized we had to end the night (to my dismay). We walked inside and the kids were creating art and paper airplanes while one read her own book of funny quotes. I realized through all the difficulty and exhaustion, we have raised some pretty amazing children. My heart is full.
We need this, as humans. We are an interdependent species. We need connections, and not just of the romantic kind. We need friends, neighbors, children, and communities. We need intimate connections and realness. We all need help and we need to be needed. It is as important as food, water, and air in my opinion. I am so grateful for this reminder today and so fortunate to have found this here. I am home.
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
Yes, I'm talking politics
We are at such a pivotal turning point in our nation. I used to back away from politics because I didn’t think I knew enough to have an opinion…and maybe I still don’t. But I am an American citizen and I have never felt proud to say so (truth bomb).
The North Carolina primaries are weeks away (and even sooner with early voting) and I will be voting for Bernie Sanders. I voted for him in the New Hampshire primaries in 2016 and have seen him speak twice in person. People back then thought I was radical (many still do) and consequently thought I was crazy for even considering him as future president of our “great nation”. Now, just four years later, I am getting ready to vote for him again right here in Asheville. However this time around he is a front-running candidate.
So why Bernie? My obvious wet dreams aside, the man has an extremely consistent track record. Since the 1960’s he has fought for the rights of the underprivileged in society. He fought for civil rights. As mayor of Burlington, Vermont he passed rent control and created affordable housing options as the city changed. He is saying the same thing now that he has been saying for the past 50 plus years (and much of it is well documented). He knows politics from the inside. He understands the corruption and has the backbone to speak up about it. He is courageous and he oozes integrity. The public figures who stand behind him I find are just as brave and consistent. They are smart, well-rounded, and a bit radical…but have proven themselves (think Dr. Cornel West, AOC, Nina Turner, Micael Moore, and, my personal favorites, Ben and Jerry). This man is the real deal. It is no longer radical to think that we could have a nation that actually cares about every single citizen, regardless of their economic standing, race, religion, or sex.
I know many people believe it is a stretch to imagine Bernie winning the nomination. I understand that. I am asking you, however, not to make voting decisions fueled by fear. The most “moderate left” candidate will not beat Trump. We all desire change and revolution in America, except for the ones at the top benefiting. No one else is offering the level of passion and progress that Bernie offers. He can beat Trump if the young voters show up! Remember when no one believed that Trump could win? We were all blindsided and now we can use the same tactic to beat him in 2020.
I believe that, even if Bernie does not win the presidency, a wave has formed that cannot and will not be stopped. People are fed up. They are tired of working their asses off, paying ridiculous amounts for healthcare , childcare, housing, and the basic necessities of life, just to “get by”. No more! It is time. Speak up, get up, and please…get out and vote!!
** Disclaimer: no matter who you vote for I still love you. Maybe ;)
The North Carolina primaries are weeks away (and even sooner with early voting) and I will be voting for Bernie Sanders. I voted for him in the New Hampshire primaries in 2016 and have seen him speak twice in person. People back then thought I was radical (many still do) and consequently thought I was crazy for even considering him as future president of our “great nation”. Now, just four years later, I am getting ready to vote for him again right here in Asheville. However this time around he is a front-running candidate.
So why Bernie? My obvious wet dreams aside, the man has an extremely consistent track record. Since the 1960’s he has fought for the rights of the underprivileged in society. He fought for civil rights. As mayor of Burlington, Vermont he passed rent control and created affordable housing options as the city changed. He is saying the same thing now that he has been saying for the past 50 plus years (and much of it is well documented). He knows politics from the inside. He understands the corruption and has the backbone to speak up about it. He is courageous and he oozes integrity. The public figures who stand behind him I find are just as brave and consistent. They are smart, well-rounded, and a bit radical…but have proven themselves (think Dr. Cornel West, AOC, Nina Turner, Micael Moore, and, my personal favorites, Ben and Jerry). This man is the real deal. It is no longer radical to think that we could have a nation that actually cares about every single citizen, regardless of their economic standing, race, religion, or sex.
I know many people believe it is a stretch to imagine Bernie winning the nomination. I understand that. I am asking you, however, not to make voting decisions fueled by fear. The most “moderate left” candidate will not beat Trump. We all desire change and revolution in America, except for the ones at the top benefiting. No one else is offering the level of passion and progress that Bernie offers. He can beat Trump if the young voters show up! Remember when no one believed that Trump could win? We were all blindsided and now we can use the same tactic to beat him in 2020.
I believe that, even if Bernie does not win the presidency, a wave has formed that cannot and will not be stopped. People are fed up. They are tired of working their asses off, paying ridiculous amounts for healthcare , childcare, housing, and the basic necessities of life, just to “get by”. No more! It is time. Speak up, get up, and please…get out and vote!!
** Disclaimer: no matter who you vote for I still love you. Maybe ;)
Sunday, January 19, 2020
Mommy/ Daddy
As I was watching Benny's basketball practice the other night, I noticed a fellow mom with her baby. She was bouncing the baby on her knee, making high-pitched, made up words and gurgles, and genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself whilst doing it. The awareness suddenly came over me , as it does from time to time, that I am actually a mom! "I'm a mom??"
How did this happen? Who allowed this? Shouldn't there be a degree or at least a license to obtain such an important role of intense responsibility? Mother. I have no idea what I am doing. I'm under qualified for the position. I am untrained. Is this a practical joke?? It comes over me like a wave.
The moment the nurses first set brand new Benny next to me at the hospital, I felt like I was pranked. "You're giving this precious, highly dependent, extremely fragile, innocent new life to me?" Stop! Theres been a mistake!
I was not a natural mother. Up until the point I knew Benny's wonderful, handsome, sarcastic, "best man I've ever known" father, I was never planning on having kids. It was not a possibility in my reality. I had no pull in my heart, mind, or body (ok, maybe a little pull there) to procreate. I knew the world was overpopulated and we were on a dying planet. Why would I want to add to that? If, at any point, I did start to feel the pull, I figured I could always adopt. Plenty of kids out there needed homes and love. Plus, I wasn't a fan of yucky babies. But, alas, the man with whom I had fallen deeply in love said his life would begin the day his first child was born. *Sigh* What was a gal to do?
So I got knocked up. That was the best part of motherhood. The creation part. (just kidding...kind of) I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. Just a feeling of dissociation. Like walking through a thick fog without a compass. Yes, we were trying to get me pregnant (my how quickly things change)but I didn't expect it to happen so fast. Ben had an unnatural sense of urgency about having kids (or so I thought at the time). I wanted to wait two years, but it became important to try right away. So, three weeks of trying later...(Again, the best three weeks of my life).
Most know about the tragedy that occurred next. Ben got killed in an accident when I was eight weeks pregnant. So there I was, grieving this unimaginable loss while planning to raise a child....alone. Yikes.
Back to the content mother with her baby at basketball practice. I think back to when Benny was a baby, and I was more likely to play a game of poker with him than sing "pop goes the weasel"! We would take road trips and listen to Aesop Rock like a couple of old frat buddies. I barely taught him any of the apparently normal toddler lessons (like numbers, letters, and how to use utensils and speak real words). Instead I taught him how to build houses out of sand, irreverent humor, and post-apocalyptic survival skills. Then it hit me...I'm a dad! I've thought this before but hit really it me in this moment. I've been down on myself for not being a natural mother. I've felt immense guilt and even envy when I see how natural it looks on other moms. I wonder if Benny missed out due to lack of cooing and bouncing on knees. I wish that breastfeeding was the best time of my life (my mom actually said that was true for her), but it wasn't. Far from it actually (think waterboarding).
If there is such a thing as Transparenting, I'm doing that. I inhabit an obviously mom body, but my parenting style is more like a dad. Maybe it's the solo parenting that has forced me to play both roles. Maybe it's just how I was raised, valuing masculine qualities above feminine(can anyone say Patriarchy?). Maybe it's just me. Maybe I am uniquely myself and this is how I show love.
One thing I do know is I love that boy more than I ever imagined was possible. This is the aspect of motherhood with which I completely align. I would die for him without a second thought. His happiness becomes my joy, and he is my favorite human in the known Universe (sorry Oprah). It is incredible. I cannot fathom not being a mother at this point in my life. I don't want to fathom it. His life is my main purpose right now (Don't worry feminists: I have other interests too....buried under a pile of dishes. I am grateful every day, even when I am lost alone without a compass, to be called Mommy/ Daddy.
How did this happen? Who allowed this? Shouldn't there be a degree or at least a license to obtain such an important role of intense responsibility? Mother. I have no idea what I am doing. I'm under qualified for the position. I am untrained. Is this a practical joke?? It comes over me like a wave.
The moment the nurses first set brand new Benny next to me at the hospital, I felt like I was pranked. "You're giving this precious, highly dependent, extremely fragile, innocent new life to me?" Stop! Theres been a mistake!
I was not a natural mother. Up until the point I knew Benny's wonderful, handsome, sarcastic, "best man I've ever known" father, I was never planning on having kids. It was not a possibility in my reality. I had no pull in my heart, mind, or body (ok, maybe a little pull there) to procreate. I knew the world was overpopulated and we were on a dying planet. Why would I want to add to that? If, at any point, I did start to feel the pull, I figured I could always adopt. Plenty of kids out there needed homes and love. Plus, I wasn't a fan of yucky babies. But, alas, the man with whom I had fallen deeply in love said his life would begin the day his first child was born. *Sigh* What was a gal to do?
So I got knocked up. That was the best part of motherhood. The creation part. (just kidding...kind of) I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. Just a feeling of dissociation. Like walking through a thick fog without a compass. Yes, we were trying to get me pregnant (my how quickly things change)but I didn't expect it to happen so fast. Ben had an unnatural sense of urgency about having kids (or so I thought at the time). I wanted to wait two years, but it became important to try right away. So, three weeks of trying later...(Again, the best three weeks of my life).
Most know about the tragedy that occurred next. Ben got killed in an accident when I was eight weeks pregnant. So there I was, grieving this unimaginable loss while planning to raise a child....alone. Yikes.
Back to the content mother with her baby at basketball practice. I think back to when Benny was a baby, and I was more likely to play a game of poker with him than sing "pop goes the weasel"! We would take road trips and listen to Aesop Rock like a couple of old frat buddies. I barely taught him any of the apparently normal toddler lessons (like numbers, letters, and how to use utensils and speak real words). Instead I taught him how to build houses out of sand, irreverent humor, and post-apocalyptic survival skills. Then it hit me...I'm a dad! I've thought this before but hit really it me in this moment. I've been down on myself for not being a natural mother. I've felt immense guilt and even envy when I see how natural it looks on other moms. I wonder if Benny missed out due to lack of cooing and bouncing on knees. I wish that breastfeeding was the best time of my life (my mom actually said that was true for her), but it wasn't. Far from it actually (think waterboarding).
If there is such a thing as Transparenting, I'm doing that. I inhabit an obviously mom body, but my parenting style is more like a dad. Maybe it's the solo parenting that has forced me to play both roles. Maybe it's just how I was raised, valuing masculine qualities above feminine(can anyone say Patriarchy?). Maybe it's just me. Maybe I am uniquely myself and this is how I show love.
One thing I do know is I love that boy more than I ever imagined was possible. This is the aspect of motherhood with which I completely align. I would die for him without a second thought. His happiness becomes my joy, and he is my favorite human in the known Universe (sorry Oprah). It is incredible. I cannot fathom not being a mother at this point in my life. I don't want to fathom it. His life is my main purpose right now (Don't worry feminists: I have other interests too....buried under a pile of dishes. I am grateful every day, even when I am lost alone without a compass, to be called Mommy/ Daddy.
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