Make Every Day a Holiday Syndrome or Enough Already Day

I have an illness. It is Make Every Day a Holiday Syndrome. Basically I’m obsessed with trying to make every second of our daily lives a Kodak moment. (Side note – should that now be an IPhone moment? Honestly I don’t know the last time I used a real camera.)

It all started out innocently enough. Of course you have the regular major holidays every year – Christmas, New Year’s, etc. Those are always easy to make special. Then you get your secondary holidays, like St. Patrick’s Day, May Day and Valentine’s Day. And if you are a parent, you start to realize that the leprechaun and Cupid have started taking crack because now we have to mess up our house because the St. Patrick’s Day leprechaun does tricks and Valentine’s Day has become a week-long art project to make the best Valentine’s Day box for school. I shun the leprechaun – this is a holiday I hate second only to May Day (to spare you yet another May Day hate filled rant, please see one of my first blogs). But I put Valentine’s Day on steroids when I started leaving little gifts in the house 4 days before Valentine’s Day, mostly as an excuse to justify buying my kids more stuff. (Because I love my kids and buying them things makes me happy but I don’t want to look like a parent that spoils them. Even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.) Even Halloween now includes Booing people, which goes beyond the practice of trick or treating and starts to look oddly like May Day for spooks.

But then you read about how to make your kids excited to go to the grocery store. “Make it a game!” screams parenting magazines. So you do. Getting groceries and taking the cat to the vet becomes an Adventure (which in truth, if you have children, any trip outside of the house becomes an adventure to see if you can keep your sanity intact. Can you make it through your errands without an emergency stop at the gas station bathroom because children never have to go when they are in the vicinity of a decent bathroom? Double points if you do!)

And this is how the slippery slope of Make Every Day a Holiday Syndrome starts. Soon you find yourself ignoring the rules of grammar and you start making every moment a proper noun. Library Day! Taco Tuesday! Gym Night! Movie Night! Technology Free Tuesday! (Tuesday is a big day.) For goodness sake, we’ve even done it in our adult lives on Facebook with Throwback Thursday (which I hate but also occasionally do anyway.)

This brought me to my low point - the night that I declared it was Stay Home Night! (Yes, every made up holiday requires capitalization and exclamation marks.) I realized that I was fighting to make every moment special and in a way, structured. The kids love it because it did make every moment in our lives a celebration, which (sappy moment) it is. And if I’m being Dr. Phil Real, it helps me get through a mundane day by putting a little spin and excitement on a regular task. But what the heck are the kids going to do when they realize that their lives will also include Pay Your Rent Or Be Evicted Day! Or Cram For Your Test Because You Have Poor Study Habits Day! Or Your Roommate Ate All Your Food and Now You Are Hungry Day! Will Laundry Day still have that sparkle when they are plugging quarters into a washer at their dorm? Am I setting my kids up for disappointment later in life by making every moment a Moment? What if just for a minute, we do nothing. Not Nothing Day! But nothing.

So I did. We had to take a week off of screens due to the Rock getting a mild concussion. Like a moth to a flame, any screen would draw him in so we had a complete moratorium on screens in the house. It’s all well and good during the week when we are running in circles anyway. But this special week also fell on a weekend when we had very little to do – which never happens so it must be fate. A whole Saturday with no plans. I got hives thinking about it. But rather than name the day and turn it into an exhausting circus of special, I did nothing. The boys looked at me. “What do we do?” I said you can do anything that doesn’t involve screens or wrestling. And I left it at that.

There were a few complaints of being bored, which turns out that kid-bored can be remedied with the threat of housework. After a bit, the kids found ways to entertain themselves without me being the ringleader. They discovered the thousands of dollars worth of toys that had been sitting around. They made up a game with a tape measure and marbles. They finally broke out some art kits and started using them. As a whole, we made it 5 hours before the first fight occurred. As a parent, I know even you would like to call this The Day of Miracles! But try to refrain yourself – I was straining not to label the day a holiday myself.

So I learned a lesson and took the first step towards recovery. Sometimes less is more. We don’t need to make every moment of our lives something special. It can be a special moment in itself by being nothing at all. Let’s see Hallmark make a card for that!

Day of Yeses or Can Oreos Make You Mom of the Year? (Answer: Only if they are double stuffed.)

Yesterday I decided to say “yes” to pretty much everything. I know, I know, women are supposed to say no now – you read about saying no all the time. Not overcommitting is the thing to do! I feel like you need the backstory to understand this one. We were spending Thursday night at a hotel with a water park and I had the kids to myself on a rare Friday off from school. On Thursday night I was wiped out – I had gotten up at 4:30 a.m. to workout, worked all day, plus we had gone swimming at the hotel – and I didn’t have the energy to make the cocoa and popcorn I had promised the kids before bed. “In the morning you can have it,” I said before I conked out for the night. And now it was morning and they wanted popcorn and cocoa for breakfast. My first reaction was an inward sigh because kids only remember the things you wish they hadn’t. They can’t remember to put their shoes on every day, (something that still amazes me – it’s SHOES!) but they remember I had said we’d eat junk food for breakfast. But then my second reaction was “Why not? What IS the big deal about popcorn and cocoa (and Oreos) for breakfast? We don’t do it every day and giving them a whole day to burn that energy is better than giving it to them before bedtime.” So I said “Yes.” The kids couldn’t believe it and I had won some points in their book.

Then I thought, why not say yes to everything today? I had to mix in errands with the fun of the day so maybe it would make the day go smoother if I did. And lo and behold, the day went pretty well. I did have to shoot down a few ideas such as, after complaining for 45 minutes that they are starving for lunch I said no to the arcade so that I could feed them before they turned on me. I might have been motivated by self-preservation on that one. Hungry boys are a very dangerous thing. I want to be a hero but I don't want to be eaten in the process.

I said yes to pop at Costco, yes to an ice cream cone before dinner, yes to the pumpkin at the grocery store (the bigger the better!), yes to volleyball in the pool, yes to more TV, yes to the bounce house at Night Eyes, and yes to bedtime stories. Again, there were a few nos sprinkled in, but the majority of the day was full of yeses.

And it felt good. Did the kids get away with murder? Nope. Are they spoiled? Nope. Was the day perfect? Nope. I’ll admit, at the end of the day, Rocco was still complaining that he doesn’t get EVERYTHING he wants and I was still exhausted. But the day felt better on the whole and I felt better. And let’s be honest, I care a lot about how I feel.

See, too often I just wear out. By 6 p.m. I’m ready to hang it up, even though there’s still a full 3 more hours of going-going-going to do. And when I’m tired, I revert to saying “no” before I’ve even listened to the request. One day of more yeses than nos didn’t make me less tired, but it didn’t make me more tired either. And it did make me feel like a pretty cool mom for once.

(Now for the sappy Hallmark wrap up.) Will I remember this parenting lesson? Hopefully. It takes a conscious effort to stop and think about the ROI on a yes versus a no. With the number of requests coming in, I tend to revert to hair trigger decisions. But setting an intention at the start of the day to say yes more than no helps. Will this make me the world’s best mom? No - I still don’t have a formal Craft Night on the weekly rotation and so someone else will hold that title. Will my kids still get mad at me? Oh that’s a definite yes for sure. Yet, the next time they are mad at me for making them brush their teeth, I’ll just remind them that popcorn, cocoa and Oreos for breakfast comes at a price. I think the scales will still tip in my favor. Winning!

The Fucket It List or Finally a To-Do List I Can Accomplish

Recently Jerry Seinfeld changed my life. He was on David Letterman and David asked him about having a bucket list now that he is 60 years old. Jerry said that he didn’t have a bucket list. In fact, he had taken his bucket list, dropped the “B” and replaced it with an “F” and voila, the list was done! Genius! I’ve included the clip in case you need the same type of divine intervention that I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VdQc8jxkp8 

So here is my Fucket List – a list of things I have totally given up on and acknowledge won’t ever happen.

1. Making my own popsicles. I was going through my recipes that I had saved last week and stumbled upon 17 different recipes for homemade popsicles. I looked at them and crumpled them all up and chucked them. I am never going to make my own popsicles when they involved a blender, more than three ingredients, four steps and when Bomb pops are so readily available at the grocery store.

2. Making my own frosting. Again, see the same reasoning above. If I was supposed to make my own frosting, Betty Crocker would be out of a job. Plus it would put my poor box cake mix to shame and no one wants to shame a cake mix. Have a heart people!

3. Doing my taxes. I did give this one the ole college try. Thankfully I’ve not been audited. My defense would be that I really did try my best and spent HOURS screwing them up. This is why God made accountants. And every year I am happy to write them a check to tell me how much I owe.

4. Taking part in the tradition of May Baskets. If you don’t yet know how much I hate May Day, please read through one of my first blogs. I’m not going to rehash all of this, but to catch my new readers up, I loathe May Day. And because I’m adding May Baskets to my Fucket List, I don’t even feel bad about the damn baskets anymore. By not participating, I’m just checking something off my list. Ah, the freedom!

5. Coming up with cutesy ideas for that creepy Elf on a Shelf. If we could put the Elf on a Shelf IN a May Basket, I would be in heaven. I hate the Elf on a Shelf for three reasons:
1. He looks really creepy.
2. He promotes stalking.
3. Most importantly, he is creating more work for me.
The best I can do with this elf is hide him every day and that still requires me to put a reminder in my phone each night. And when you post pictures on Facebook of him playing in a bunch of flour on the kitchen floor, I’m sure the look of joy on your children’s faces when they find him in these antics outweighs the pain the ass work of setting it up and then cleaning up the mess you made. But still, I’m begging out.

6. Doing the same thing on St. Patrick’s Day with the Leprechaun. WHAT IS THIS? Who came up with this leprechaun business? Was it the same people who invented Pinterest, which we all know is a ploy to sell more craft items and make people feel inadequate? (I’m thinking Michaels and Parents magazine are in cahoots.) I’m not even going to feel bad about this St. Patrick’s Day thing. I’m lucky if I remember to dress my kids in green. I just tell them to tell their friends they are wearing green underwear because who’s going to make them prove it, right?

7. Getting my PhD. I feel like this ship has sailed. I really hate research and I don’t know if I can go back to school for 5 more years. I have to admit, this is only half-heartedly on my Fucket List because I still kind of think it might be a possibility.

8. Getting a Brazilian wax. I’m not sure if I have to explain this one. But the thought of having someone pull hot wax off my lady parts sounds like signing up for labor again, but without an epidural. Unless you can get an epidural for a wax. Then I might be in.

9. Do an Ironman. Weirdly enough, this was on my Bucket List at one time. But then I had kids and realized how much I hate running and don’t know how to bike. Also, I’m scared of fish and you have to swim in lakes. I feel like this one was doomed to begin with.

I’ve got a strong sense that this Fucket List is not yet complete. But this is a To-Do List I’m excited to add to. If you feel inclined, start one yourself! It is like therapy without the Kleenex. I’d love to hear what makes your list. It might inspire me to add a new one to mine.

Game On or That Was a Cool Half Pike

Admit it. We have been competing since the day we had our kids. I know I have and even if you want to take the higher road, deep down, I know you have been too. We’ve been competing for the Best Parent Award since our little ones popped out of the womb. I know you are reading those blogs about how we are all “doing our best and that’s okay.” And I’ve probably even written one (or many) along those lines. And to those I just want to quote Dr. Phil and say "Get Real." You wouldn’t have written that blog if you weren’t trying to point out how awesome you are at “just letting go” or being “hands free” – I am on to you!

It all started with birth. Did you go natural or did you use drugs? Just how many hours of labor were YOU in? How big of an episiotomy did you have? Look folks, I never said this contest wasn’t dirty – in fact, it is downright disgusting. To be honest, I don’t want to hear how much you “ripped” (holding back gag reflex) or if you had to be cut. Some details aren’t worth rehashing. I concede on this one – you win. I had an easy labor! I don’t even want to compete!

But on other fronts, I’m right up there in the starting blocks. Sometimes our competition is more obvious. Like when our kindergartners have to create a dinosaur and bring it to school. You could tell the seasoned parents from the newbies like I was. I thought my kid was supposed to lead the project. Turns out I’m just supposed to let him paint it carefully after I have constructed a life-sized dinosaur out of Paper Mache. Lesson learned. The second kid starts kindergarten next year and I’m already drawing up the blueprints!

Do you bake cookies from scratch or are they store bought? Oh, let’s lament how we can’t bake our own cupcakes for the school birthday snack, hand decorated because we went to the cake decorating class at Michaels, when in actuality, I’d probably buy the cupcakes anyway because I don’t have time to bake and I couldn’t frost the broad side of a house respectably. I will probably defriend you if you tell me you only use apple sauce for sugar – I like my cupcakes fully leaded. Are you the mom who shows up dressed in a cute outfit, in full makeup, at the field trip? I saw it as a day to go “slumming” in nonbusiness-casual attire. Did you catch that there? I’m so secure with my mom-ness, that I DON’T EVEN NEED TO DRESS UP FOR FIELD TRIPS – right there I’m competing. It’s a sickness! Can. Not. Stop!

And as we are nearing Halloween, do you go out and buy your costume or do you make it by hand? Oh, it was easy to stitch up that authentic Native American Pocahontas costume? No it wasn’t – and I tip my hat to you. You are the winner winner chicken dinner. And you also limit your child to one piece of candy and then sell the rest to the dentist? You get the award for Healthiest Parent but I’ll win Coolest Parent when I let my kid inhale candy on Halloween and even let them have a piece for breakfast the next morning. Look, you have to know your strengths.

This isn’t a blog about how we should just all get along and be secure with who we are exactly as we are, stretch marks and tummy tucks hugging it out over the homemade healthy snacks and artificially colored juice boxes. I’m just saying maybe we can admit that we are all a bit competitive and just ONCE want to be noticed as Best in Show in this lifelong contest of being a parent.

There’s really nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. We aren’t bitchy beauty queens, sabotaging the boob tape.  Instead I think of us as X-Games athletes – after an amazing run doing a cool new snowboarding trick, we all high five and want to learn it. And when we wipe out and fail epically, we reach out a hand to help you on your feet again, and then call the medic.

This parent stuff is a marathon not a sprint. I’m going to openly admit that I don’t win everything, nor should I. If you don’t win this round for having Technology Free Tuesday (oh yes my dearest girlfriend, I’m pointing at you), I have nothing to strive for. I have a girlfriend that dresses up for Walmart and seeing her made me realize I had been slacking off a little too much in the appearance category – there’s nothing wrong with slapping on a little makeup to feel good about yourself. Watching you do something better than I do makes me think whether that’s a change I want to make - will it make me or my children happier or healthier? Staying off our screens one night a week? Probably. And you inspire me to try to compete, to be better than I am right now. So lace them up friends, I’ve got a dinosaur and sugary cupcakes to make.

Proud to be a DICK!

It has taken me ten years but I’m finally proud to say that I’m a DICK. I’ve been called many things in life, but I can honestly say that I’m happy and fulfilled being a DICK.  Of course I’m talking about Double Income Couple of Kids.

I think when you first have a kid, well at least for me, there’s a part of you that can keep one foot in both worlds – pre-kids and parenthood. Let’s be honest, having one kid really isn’t that tough. Sure it is at first. There’s an adjustment to being 100% responsible for someone who cannot feed or even move without your assistance. You can’t leave and go out to a nice dinner unless you find someone to stay home with your child. And don’t get me wrong. Having one kid isn’t easy! Far from it – I locked myself in my house for 3 months in the throes of post-partum depression. It took me 6 months just to be coherent enough from lack of sleep to carry on an adult conversation again. But once you have a second kid, you realize that one really isn’t that hard – it’s just new.

With one kid, you soon find that you still have time to volunteer with those nonprofit organizations, to train for a half marathon, to go back to grad school, and to work full time. (And if you are smart, you won’t try to do all of those at once like I did.) Finding a sitter for one kid is like asking someone for a favor; add in a second kid and you are asking for a commitment. Once that first child gets old enough, they just blend right into your life – they help hand out water at the race you volunteered at, they cheer you on as you run past the finish line, and they can grab you a new highlighter when yours runs out of ink.

But TWO kids. That changes the game. If you wait to have your second so that they are spaced apart a bit, you find that you are running to parent teacher conferences right after changing a diaper and prepping a bottle. Finding time to squeeze in a long run means getting up after 4 hours of sleep from a cranky baby so you can get your run in before a 9 a.m. soccer game. Going back to school means you are missing something. Basically, LIFE CHANGES. And I’m sure you were all more enlightened than I was because it took me about 4 years to figure this all out.

I think I initially fought against the commitment two kids would have on my life. After my second son, I was still determined to volunteer at a nonprofit, help at our church, train for races and go back to school so I could save the world all while being The Best Mom Ever.  Parents magazine says it’s possible! But for me, this just didn’t work. Oh I fought against the spiral of crazy for as long as I could. Everyone else can Do It All, why can’t I? Shouldn’t I be doing more with my life? It is a little known fact about me that I dream of saving the world by going to underprivileged areas and being a nurse (or doctor – depends on how much coffee I’ve had as I daydream.)  There are people dying for lack of simple health care in the United States and third world countries. I should be saving them. I should be DOING MORE. First step, become a nurse! Let’s do it now!

Or maybe not. Finally one day my husband looked at me and said, “You have to stop. You are overcommitted. You are stressed and unhappy.” What? No I’m not! I’m just running to meetings, composing minutes, fielding emails, going to work, going to class, studying and trying to figure out how to keep 10 4^th graders entertained for hour-long religious education classes each week (I’ll let you guess which one of those is the hardest.) I love being this busy and I am being a great mom to boot! But for once I took his advice and uncommitted myself to projects. “But am I still doing enough? Who will save the world if it isn’t me?” I panicked. Slowly however, I found myself unwinding. I found myself enjoying “just being a working mom.” I found myself realizing that I could raise two kids that can save the world too, making us a family of superheroes (okay, so I still dream big.)

I’m not saying you should give up on your dreams. I’m saying that life is long and there’s time for doing it all, just not all at once. I’m saying that raising your children to be people who also save the world is a noble thing to do. When the boys grow older and no longer need me to run them to practices or read to them at night, I’ll have time to commit to other things again too. But for now right now, walking the dog, making lunches, cheering at football games, reviewing math homework and reading stories is what it means to save the world. There’s nothing wrong with being a DICK who quietly makes an impact by just being there for our future superheroes.

Missing My Workout Really Perks Me Up or The Hazards of Reading

A blog post on a Thursday? I know you are thinking to yourself, "She must be like the Dalai Lama who gets up at 3 a.m. to meditate, help the needy and blog. I'm so impressed!" While I'd love to be able to extend my day in the wee hours of the morning to get more done, the truth is that it's 5:30 a.m. and I've missed my workout. It's a bit sad that I have to get up by 4:45 a.m. at the latest to squeeze a workout in, but that is my reality and it's probably yours too. Exercising is how I manage my stress and missing the gym means that today will be a little off kilter for me. But hitting the gym has its downsides too and on this occasion of a missed workout, I'm going to focus on the bright side and tell you why sometimes going to the gym only makes me feel worse, thus justifying why I slept in this morning.

As a working mom, I multitask pretty much every moment I can. In order to stay on top of the world of parenting, high fashion and sex tips, I have to read my magazines while I'm on the elliptical. It's important for a girl to know what's going on in the world today, right?! But sometimes this backfires, which it did the other day when I realized these truths from Redbook, the magazine for women in their thirties who still sort of want to be in their twenties  but aren't and yet are too young for Better Homes and Gardens.

Did you know...
1. That at age 35 your lips start to disappear! WTF! I had no idea! As I read this, I squinted into the mirror (which is a bit hard as you bounce on the elliptical and we all know that squinting causes wrinkles too - argh!) Are MY lips disappearing too? I had no idea that during the last two years they were slowly shriveling up like worms on a sidewalk. Good God, I must look like a freak. But rest assured, there are needle-free strategies to remedy this - I just need to hydrate, mix up a homemade concoction anti-aging treatment, and find the right lip color. Whew. Add these to my things-to-do list, right after walk the dog, make lunches, throw in a load of laundry, tell my 10 year old (AGAIN) to put on his shoes to go to school, work all day, make dinner, do dishes, go through the bedtime routine and spend "quality" time with my husband in front of the television. Done!

2. Doctors are talking to their friends about STRESS! Because it's that bad now folks that doctors must talk about it at dinner parties! Thankfully they have also shared their tips with us regular people too. I learned that my hormones are my most unpredictable friend. I knew my hormones were little bitches, but now this confirms it! I'm also supposed to schedule deposits into my relaxation account, which I'm guessing is a bit like my bank account, but a little less flush. I should also forget about chanting and listen to reggae. So last month's advice about meditating was crap. Good to know. And I'm supposed to make an anti-anxiety meal of blueberries, spinach, turkey and chamomile tea. I'm on it - I have to go to the grocery store anyway to pick up the brown sugar for my homemade lip anti-aging treatment too.

3. Protein packed diets are in a super moment! I'm not exactly sure what a super moment is but I don't want to miss it...because it's super. This helpful dinner suggestion recommends the ancient grain, farro. So....that's available at my local Fareway, right? I was hoping my Fiber One protein bar would suffice but apparently I need to go a little further back in time. Who knows, maybe I'll find my full plump lips there too while I'm looking.

In the end, I've learned a few things during a recent workout. I'm a shriveled up, stressed out, under proteined mess - I don't think even a post-workout glow will fix this! But if my brief summary of Redbook doesn't make you feel like enough of a winner, you can finish your workout with a quick spin on the scale. Boy, that always cheers me up. Nothing like being reminded that the ice cream cone (and cookies and chips) from yesterday didn't magically disappear after an hour at the gym. Perhaps I should just stop reading while I workout...

So maybe missing my workout this morning isn't the end of the world. I'm sitting here drinking my coffee instead, which we all know will prevent Alzheimer's disease, according to Better Homes and Gardens (which I don't read because I'm not that old yet.) Time to go fill up my relaxation account with a calming shower taken at high speed so we can all be at work and school on time. Carry on my friends! I'll see you at the gym tomorrow with bells on (and a lip treatment.)

Sometimes You Need the Third Billy Goat Gruff or My Magic Wand is Broken

If you have been following me on social media for even just a week, you know that I am raising one gentle giant and one rabid squirrel. Since my children have such different personalities, parenting them is a real challenge. 

You might be surprised to know that I am the "nice" parent. If you are one of my close friends, "nice" probably isn't one of the first adjectives you would use to describe me. When you are someone who likes to find humor in situations, usually has quick comebacks plus has a solid temper, you should know that you have the power to be hurtful. And as the saying goes, with great power comes great responsibility. This is why I work so hard to be patient with the kids and listen when they are having a difficult moment - because when I'm not careful, I have hurt their feelings unintentionally. And that is something I try to avoid. So while their dad is the one that buys the Icees and candy, I am the one they turn to when they are upset. 

With the Moose, my husband and I are on equal footing when it comes to parenting - he listens to both of us the same. Unfortunately with my little flying squirrel, he responds better to his dad when he is in trouble. This makes me crazy but at the same time, I'm glad he doesn't know that really, I might be the one you should be scared of. Their dad has a heart of gold and wears his emotions on his sleeve, while I could go sleeveless and you'd never know something was amiss. He also has a booming voice and doesn't put up with too much crap. 

This long explanation is necessary to set the background for the following story. It was the Squirrel's first day of preschool and despite being excited to go, on the morning of, he was decidedly not excited anymore. I literally chased him through the house for 30 minutes and never got him out of his pajamas, much less ready for school. At one point, he locked himself in the bathroom, which while it was frustrating, I was glad that 1) he is mature for his age since I'd expect this behavior from a preteen girl and 2) he had taught me how to pick the lock. I tried all my mothering tricks - reassuring him he'd have a great day; rocking him and listening to his feelings; distracting him on a different subject to try to get him out of his pjs; being stern - all to no avail. I was sweating both physically and mentally. Finally, and much to my chagrin, I sent an SOS text to my spouse: "PLEASE come home. Need back up!"

Five minutes later I heard "TRIP TRAP TRIP TRAP TRIP TRAP" (or the garage door open - this part of the story could go either way.) The Squirrel and I hear my husband come in the house. He comes up the stairs and I'm not really sure which way this is going to go. My patient approach has terribly backfired, but will a firm tone work? My husband takes a look at the two of us, wrestling on the floor, red faced and sweaty. 

"It's time to get dressed. Today is the first day of school. Your mom and I are going to work and you are going to school. Let's go." The tone was firm, the volume was slightly louder than a conversation and the effect was immediate. The Squirrel quit squirming and foaming at the mouth and started to get dressed. My husband had saved the day. And it was his parenting style that broke through the hysterics.

There are times I think my husband is too gruff and there are times he thinks I'm too soft. But it's important to remember that we need both styles of parenting for our household. The boys need someone who will rough house and won't put up with a bunch of whining just as much as they need a mom who will stay up and listen to their troubles way past bedtime. Thankfully they have a ying and yang in their parents who both love them more than they'll ever know. And this experience was a good reminder that my way isn't always right. Sometimes you need the third Billy Goat Gruff rather than the fairy godmother.