Hand Full of Poop

It’s just me and Asher hanging out. Nelson and Beth are at the grocery and as far as I’m concerned they can take their good sweet time…because I’m savoring these moments—big time!

This morning Beth and Asher came to church. We then offered to keep him during Sunday School so that she could go home and get a nap. It was too easy! She jumped on that like…well, fill in the quickest analogy you can think of.

It was fun showing him off in Sunday School. Nelson kept identifying Asher as his new toy. Pepa! He was such a good baby. Everyone marveled at his sweet nature and his red hair.

Last night the funniest thing happened. I’ve been on poopy diaper patrol lately. Typically, I don’t mind, but this one was one for the books. I lade Asher on the floor on top of a receiving blanket and had successfully cleaned his little bottom. As I was getting ready to put on the new diaper he passed some gas. I sped up, but before I could get the new one completely under and my hand out of the way he pooped on me, on the banket and even into the new diaper. Beth was cracking up. Then as I turned him to the side to wipe up the mess a little he proceeded to pee the straightest little stream all over the floor. This just about put Beth into spasms she was laughing so hard. Nelson was sitting on his bed asking for a camera. Asher was doing the gassy grin and I still had a hand full of baby poopy. It was comical. No sooner had we cleaned up the mess but Beth was on the phone sharing the story and the laughter with her sister.

I prefer today’s peaceful cuddle time, but will confess last night’s laughter was pretty special too.

I was reading someone’s entry earlier and it caused quite a time of reflection for me. She was describing a trip to the ER with her 17yr old son, and how though in the process of life of letting go he grabbed her arm and asked her not to leave. I related so well to that this week.

Beth came into my room at 3:15 Monday morning. I awoke before she walked in when I heard her make her way to the bathroom. As she entered my room I was quick to ask, “Contractions?” She thought so. We called the hospital and was put through to her doctor. He instructed us to come in.

It was hard to watch my baby in so much pain. Her labor was very intense and in her back. Thank God for the epidural. That only left 2 hours of pushing. My job was to count and help her with that pushing. There were times when she snapped, but in her eyes I knew she wanted me there. I don’t know what words to use to describe the emotion as I witnessed Asher emerging. Then I got to cut the cord. He was so perfect. I treasure the entire experience.

Later, after moving to a quieter room, Beth was holding Asher and looking at him with such love. I smiled and said, “You’re a mom.” She was still trying to wrap her brain around it. It was just too amazing. “He’s yours forever.” That’s some pretty powerful stuff.

It reminded me of when she was in eighth grade. I think it was in January, maybe February. She had gone sledding with a friend. I was called at work that she had fallen off the sled and broken her arm—come home quick! That wasn’t hard since the hill was out front of our agency and we lived just at the bottom of the hill.

As I dashed home, I remember praying, “Please God let it be her right arm.” Strange prayer. Like God was going to say, “Oops, I broke the wrong arm…better fix that.” Reflecting on that moment, I’m glad hears our intent, especially when our words make no sense. I just desperately wanted God to be taking care of my baby.

Well, it was her right arm, and though that left her able to write, there were still things she couldn’t do: like wash her hair. Now, perhaps you can remember being 13 or 14, or you remember when your kids were. It’s the beginning of independence and the last thing you want to do is admit to your mom you can’t do something, or worse that you need her (gasp and horror).

I tried really hard not to let on how much I really treasured being needed again. I knew that days were coming when little Miss Independent was going to spread her wings and fly. I wanted it and dreaded it both at the same time. The time on Monday reminded me of hair washing. She may never need me in the same way again, but she will always need me. And that’s worth a hand full of poop any day!

Asher is asleep on my shoulder right now, making cooing little dream sounds while he sleeps. I just have to let you know—I feel so blessed.

Grandsweeties!

I think I did it!!!

The Week In Review

Wow. This has been one crazy kind of week. I will confess openly that I am abundantly thankful that it is Friday.

Baby first. Asher continues to be amazingly beautiful. Beth would like for him to get his days and nights straightened around. We’ve told her that will come. Ann came over on Tuesday with Penelope and Caden. I have a wonderful picture of all three grandsweeties but I don’t know how to post it. (Any and all coaching will be accepted.) Nelson has decided that Asher is Pepa’s boy.

Nelson. (insert deep sigh) The therapist told him at his session on Wednesday that he didn’t believe that therapy would increase the functioning of his ankle. This may be as good as it gets. That was really hard to hear. His next doctor’s apt isn’t until the 10th. So now we wait and see. Edit: Friday’s session held no better news.

Work. (insert head shake) I’m exhausted. A big part of that is mental (but you knew that all along). I start my day by getting everything going in packaging. I’ve been training D to take my job—I’ve been doing that from the beginning really, but it’s for real now. She’s feeling totally overwhelmed and inadequate for the job so I’ve been doing heavy duty encouraging there. Once things are situated there I’ve been moving to the new department to learn how to do that job. The new position is very hands on. I’m working with all kinds of power tools. I actually have a key to the toolbox—now that’s a hoot! Talk about feeling inadequate!

Now, I think I’ve mentioned, at least once or twice that I am a huge control freak. I am now in a situation where finding even threads of control are extremely limited at best. Too many people are telling me what to do. The guy who used to run the floor portion still works at the plant and has all kinds of knowledge, but doesn’t disseminate it well and doesn’t like the paper man of the department who doesn’t really know how to build everything who would rather I go to the engineer who is extremely soft spoken and who would rather defer to the guy who used to run the department who I’ve been told I’m not supposed to go to. Did I succeed in making that sound horribly confusing and conflictual? I hope so, because it is!

Edit: I talked to Ed about things this morning and he was wonderful. I was open about my frustration and my desire to be able to do my job well—and to the company’s satisfaction. He was able to assure. I left his office feeling excited and empowered.

And that’s just the mental exhaustion. Last summer they moved the packaging department to the back corner of the plant and then moved my office to close to that area. The new department is back right next to the old department—in the opposite corner from the packaging department. So I’m back to walking HUGE amounts either to go fix problems in packaging or just to go to my office. I keep trying to think of the benefits of this added exercise, but my weary legs are just thankful it’s Friday.

Writing. Last night I went to my first writers’ circle. The meeting wasn’t what I had anticipated, but it was okay. Each of us read a couple pieces and received input from the group. I read my piece from Christmas, “Fear Not”, and on from last summer called “Possibility.” I will go again and also probably seek out other sharing opportunities. Their encouragement (along with yours) has given me the oomph I needed to get some of my things out there and to also get busy on putting together other things for publication.

And now I’m getting ready to help give Asher a bath. What a wonderful way to start my weekend! May there be small bundles of joy in your weekend, too!

It's A Boy!

(Blue confetti is flying everywhere!)
Nicholas Asher was born at 1:43pm this afternoon.
He weighed 8lbs and 7oz.
He is 191/4 inches long.
He is absolutely beautiful!
Mommy is taking a nap.
Pepaw needed to come home and put his foot up.
Memaw is going to get the 'specially ordered dinner of Whopper and Onion Rings (two sauces), a large fountaine Pepsi, and a bag of sour cream and onion chips---she worked so hard she can have whatever she wants!

More to come tomorrow!

Kicked to the Curb

Turning on to our street when I came home from work on Thursday, I noticed that two houses down from our house there was a huge stack of stuff out on the tree lawn. Friday is trash day, but they only take trash on trash days. They don’t even take lawn/leaf refuse. They take trash on Tuesdays too, and that’s when to set out your recyclables. But nothing large is allowed. Until April, that is.

In April the town is divided into sectors and during your assigned week you can put anything and everything on the tree lawn. I have actually seen a kitchen sink! What’s really funny during that time is the trucks that cruise up and down the streets and the scads of people who scavenge through the piles and piles of peoples’ cast offs.

So it struck me as very odd that there was so much sitting out on the tree lawn. The house had had some remodeling done last fall, and initially I thought perhaps they were just retting out a bit more to go along with the remodeling. After all, one of the things boldly planted out on the tree lawn was a bright orange sofa.

A little later Nelson and I went out to dinner. We noticed that the pile had grown significantly, but not nearly as much as it grew by the time we came back an hour later. And it all began to make me wonder: why? What was going on? Did a neighbor die? Was the family cleaning up and out?

It reminded me of when my grandmother went into the Nursing Home. She was a collector. My parents called her a pack rat. She had so many antiques. She had stacks of quilts. When I was a child I remember venturing into the “front room.” There was no heat in the front room. There weren’t any lights in the front room. We would go there to retrieve treasures of all sorts and food from the chest freezer. Anyway, the door barely shut at the Home before my parent had a huge dumpster backed up to Grandma’s back door and they donned one-piece jumpsuits and emptied out the house. And everything, E-VER-Y-THING went into the dumpster.

I guess that shouldn’t have been too surprising to me. When I was very young my mother’s parents moved to South Carolina and we moved into their home. In the basement of that home was a beautiful round claw foot oak table. It ended up trashed. Later we moved into a house that had several attics. In one of the attics there were several boxes of antique glass. My mom threw them out without even unpacking them. Then, after my dad died and my mom moved to Arizona she gave away my great-grandmother’s bedroom suite and secretary desk. Gave them away to non-family members who had no interest in them and no emotional ties…like me.

There had been a group of people hanging out at the back of the house one time when we came by. There was a large pick-up backed up to the house with a few items in the back. And then it was gone. Who were those people? Kids? Relatives who just didn’t want to wade through all the “junk”?

The tree lawn was still piled high when I got home from work today. There’s a two-drawer file cabinet sitting there that looks good to me, but for some reason I just don’t think I could pick through the stuff. It feels somewhat disrespectful, cold and calloused.

I started thinking about what would happen when I die. Nelson has informed me that he is going first, his estimate is within five years. Annie has already informed of several items that she wants when I die. It’s kind of nice to know I have things that someone might want, especially when I realize I could live without most of it.

Things I don’t want on the curb:
-Daisy’s lamp. Daisy influenced my life in countless ways. She died during my senior year of cancer. She did macramé. Right before she died she started a hanging lamp. It lacked one panel for completion. Her husband and children got it finished and gave it to me as a wedding gift. It’s hanging over my “corner chair.”
-My great grandmothers mantle clock and the grandfather clock we gave my parents as a 25th anniversary gift.
-Grandma’s baby dish. It’s a crock like dish and there are still some of the decals showing.
-My books. I have lots of books. And while I have culled my collection since I’m no longer a pastor or counselor, there are still five shelving units and countless unpacked boxes. Part of the collection that I hope gets passed on are the very old children’s books.
-My brass rub. When I was in Europe during college, my roommate and I did several brass rubbings. I did one of a medieval nativity on black velvet paper with silver. My dad liked the piece so much he had it professionally matted and framed. It came back to us after my dad died.
-My Pooh collection. I have stuffed Poohs; Pooh watches; Pooh games; Pooh dishes; Pooh mugs; Pooh clocks; and newest of all a set of Pooh kitchen canisters.

The things that last though, I hope, won’t be found in boxes or on shelves. I hope not just some of my words will last, but the love behind them. I hope that there will be those who will remember my hard but be quicker to mention my constant love. When I die, there won’t be lots of money to hand out, so I hope that people will see that I spent my life on others.

I guess I hope when I’m gone that there won’t be much to kick out to the curb.

Discoveries

My how time flies.

We still don’t have a baby. Looks like he may arrive right on time. Beth is still working, albeit her shifts are reduced, but she’s plugging away.

Nelson has now added an electrical shock to his therapy. He’s getting around better and doing more things for himself.

A really, really interesting thing happened at work. Since Tuesday morning I’ve been trying to figure something. It wasn’t until I started typing this entry that the answer dawned on me.

One of the guys I work with came to me confused and concerned that one of the ladies in the plant mentioned someone to him that I had only said to him AND WROTE ABOUT HERE. Imagine that. And now, by tracing back the who said what to whom, I know who has been reading my diary from work—at least one of the “whos” and since I know that she doesn’t like me it makes sense why she would try and spread stuff around.

I had a meeting with the Job and Family Services worker and with the woman who had been spreading rumors and stirring up trouble. We decided to give her another chance. Some of the others were leery about it (those she had been spreading rumors about), but this work program is all about second chances. We’ll see how she does. If yesterday is any indication she’ll be okay.

My first Sunday playing on the Praise Team went well. I received a lot of encouragement to continue. At the rehearsal there was a hymn we were using that didn’t have chords written down and they realized it right away and helped me out. My fears are being put to rest and I’m getting excited about the new opportunities. I need my calluses to build up so my fingers will stop hurting—but it’s a good pain (if that makes any sense).

Yesterday, at the end of the day Mr. R came to the packaging office with one of the area pastors. I had heard of this man, he’s on staff at one of the larger churches in town. Mr. R wanted me to describe the T-Net program and its benefits. I jumped quickly into spiel mode—but it was so much more than that. At my old job, way back when it seems, I would go out and represent the agency and drum up dollars to support the program. Even though I knew this opportunity might be about dollars, I considered it such an opportunity to share the rich blessings I have experienced by being a part of this ministry and what I have seen it accomplish in the lives of others.

There’s more I want to write about but I need to get myself around for work. We’ll finish this later on…

Life Part Two

Still no baby. And Beth even worked a double shift yesterday. Going to put the crib together today.

Good news on Nelson. The therapist felt that Nelson hadn’t hurt his ankle. All the paperwork for payment on the therapy had been corrected for the past and put on file for the future. They did the “squeeze” on Nelson’s ankle and it doesn’t look like what we thought was swelling is swelling. He’s just going to have one large cankle. He’s been walking more without the boot and trying to get around without the crutch. Our house is good for this as we are tight fit and there’s plenty of furniture and “stuff” to reach out to as he walks from room to room.

I thought some more about how I described my joining the Praise Team. I really am excited for the opportunity, but feel way out of my league. Here’s an example of what I mean. I told the group up front I’m a REAL basic player. I told them about an incident I observed when I got to church early one morning and watched them practice. One of the singers complained about the key the music was in (she said she couldn’t find a harmony—whatever) so the musicians commenced to play the song in three different keys trying to find one for her to play in. I can’t do that. I need music written out in front of me in very basic chords. They nodded in understanding.

Then I went to my first practice on Tuesday. The leader had given us a CD of the music and I had listened to it several times at work. While we were practicing one of the songs I was doing my best to finger pick the chords rather than strum—adds a little and it’s as fancy as I get. I leaned in close behind the piano player and couldn’t hardly believe how badly my guitar was out of tune. At the end of the song I looked at the top of her music and there was a note she had written about changing to a different key. I wasn’t out of tune I was playing in the original key. No one told me we were changing the key. I felt foolish and even more sure that I wasn’t going to fit in.

It snowed last night, but worse than the snow was the wind. I was afraid when I crawled out of bed this morning I was going to find the house sitting in a strange place with a bunch of munchkins gathered around singing some strange song. But we’re still in Ohio, Toto. And that’s probably a good thing, wouldn’t want to travel to far from home with a baby so close to being born.

Actually, it seems like marvelous weather for some hot chocolate. So if you’ll excuse me…I wonder if we still have any whipped cream…mmmmmmmmmm.

Life

Still no baby. Tomorrow is a full moon.

Nelson walked up the stairs to go to the bathroom on Thursday. He heard something “snap” in his ankle. It’s been super sore since then. He’s been battling with Workman’s Comp, the therapy place, and the Dr. office about getting his therapy paid for. Someone isn’t doing the paperwork properly and in a timely fashion. So we ended up with a $2000 bill—it sort of goes along with the over $400 gas bill…and it hasn’t even really been that cold. Yippee.

It’s been a rough week at work. Today was the emotionally worst. On the 3rd a new program began and I’m supervising it. These new folks are working to be able to maintain their food stamps and other government assistance. One of these workers is a very unhappy and mean spirited woman who likes to gossip and make up stories about people. Well, she had a little info about me and she ran with it and decided to tell everyone on both work crews what she thought she new, but she was horribly wrong--almost laughably so. She also performed her character assassination on one of the other workers. It was a good thing for her that she didn’t feel well and decided not to work today. When I learned what she did I immediately called Dan and told him that she was no longer welcome on the work team. I will do everything in my power to make our workplace safe and positive.

The interesting thing that did come out of the above problem was the opportunity to discuss with a couple of employees the problem of making assumptions. Some of the new folks had never had contact with people who had been in jail or prison. They had been quick to judge based on what the nasty woman had said. They felt badly because after having worked with some of us they realized we were people who made mistakes, but we were doing everything in our power to put our lives back together.

It’s no fun being the target of someone’s venom, but if I can use my situation to help others then I guess I shouldn’t be upset.

Ok, I’m getting tired. Days are sort of like that for me. I get up, early. Play all my Scrabble games and read a few diaries/blogs. I work hard until I’m done. I come home, play Scrabble, read diaries/blogs, watch some TV and go to bed. Some days I get inspired to do housework and sometimes I write. Most nights the writing seems like drivel. I get better stuff on the weekend. Then I’m in bed around 9:30.

Two things are going to change that pattern somewhat. On Tuesday nights I’ll be attending Praise Team practice…at least for now. I was double teamed on that one. Nelson and the team leader were in cahoots and before I knew it I was agreeing to be a part of the 8:30 praise team. I felt way out of my league and may not be able to continue. I really am just a strummer. Then on Thursdays Nelson and I will be meeting with our new small group as a part of our church’s participation in the 40 Days of Community. I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be an opportunity to meet new people as we were randomly assigned to a group.

So that’s life. And bed is next.

Dream Sequence

I had a very interesting dream this morning. I know it was morning because I woke up after it and since it was the last dream I think I had I remember the most from it.

I dreamt that I was working for R Company, doing the job I do right now. A group from the company we have the packaging contract with came to visit our plant. Now there’s a woman that I have email contact with who is curt in her emails and just seems extremely unpleasant. I cringe when I see she has sent me an email. Any time I have to ask a question it seems she replies in her curt manner and uses the opportunity to cancel an order. It’s gotten so bad that I ask for permission to email her, because I fear her canceling of orders.

So, in the dream the group from T Company walks up to where I’m working. Mr. R is standing at the back of the group. This woman walks right up to me and offers me a job in the T Company, offers me a very large salary and a prestigious position. The catch is that I would have to work for her. I asked several questions and then looked right at Mr. R and turned the job down flat. He seemed to smile with such approval. Then I woke up.

Now this dream has weird written all over it, but also a couple of other things that felt really good. And surprisingly, they aren’t the things I would have suspected. Usually, work dreams for me are filled with feelings of failure: too much on my plate, missing deadlines, fumbling and bumbling. There was none of that in this dream. Normally, at least in real life, to be given such an offer would lift my saggy self-esteem up a bunch of notches. That part didn’t even faze me. More money would be such a blessing (especially with the baby due at any time), but it was no motivator at all.

I really enjoy my job and I can’t hardly describe how much I really like the people I work with and for. The very thought of having to work with this woman, even with commensurate pay was so incredibly unappealing—I refused without even thinking about talking to Nelson about it. Even in the dream I just knew he would understand. (We later discussed it and he agreed with my decision.)

Later Nelson and I were discussing how we slept and I told him about the dream. Then he told me he had a dream about Home Depot. Well, that was the other dream I had…too weird to go into. We just thought it was interesting we both dreamed about the same place and had some of the same people in the dream and some weird twists that were kinda similar.

I don’t interpret them. I barely remember them. But I do believe they have meaning.

Class Reunion

I’ve been reading so many deep and thought-provoking entries in other people’s blogs and diaries. And while I have been encouraged to think and remember, I also have been feeling exceedingly shallow. I feel thought-less. I feel shallow. Here’s how shallow I am:

In four months my class is holding it’s 30th high school reunion and I was just sitting here thinking about two things: how am I going to lose 40lbs before April 1 and how will I inform my former “best friends forever” of my criminal status.

Me. I never smoked a cigarette. Never even took one puff. Was only drunk once and got so sick I swore off alcohol completely. I never tried any drugs. I wasn’t even around them, that I knew of. I never got a speeding ticket and the only accident I caused was when I tried to park between two cars in a hurry because I was late for band practice and I hit a friend’s car and when backing from that I scraped my boyfriend’s parent’s car on the other side. I never shoplifted. My worse crime was over-due library books. I was fourth runner up to Miss Teenage Columbus, in the band, in choir and ensembles, in drama, and extremely active in my church youth group.

Me. I graduated from college. Got married. Had two beautiful children. Pastored for 20 years, and was a counselor for seven. Have 3 masters’ degrees, half the work done for a doctorate, and 4000 clinically supervised CPE hours.

I had everything and I handed it back. Stupid barely describes me.

Me. Arrogant. I could take on the world. I could flirt with danger. Rules were for others who couldn’t handle things. I was super mom, super counselor, super pastor. Boundaries were for wimps. I gave and gave and gave. Why hold back anything in reserve? Why even have a reserve? I was totally spread beyond thin and completely spent. And somehow I thought that was a good thing.

Sometimes when I reflect back to that time and it seems like a dream, like I must be thinking about someone else’s life. It felt that way while I was living it too, only it wasn’t a dream it was a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up. And being raised in an alcoholic dysfunctional family was great prep ground for being about to wear the mask of “everything’s just hunky dory” when I would need it at church or work or even home. It was a phony as Mr. Rourke on Fantasy Island: “Smiles everyone, smiles.”

Come to think of it, there was a lot of that “smiling” going on when I was in high school. My parents were alcoholics, but I didn’t “know” that. Mom never went to bed without a couple drinks first, and most nights she fell asleep in her chair. I thought she just woke up hard. I didn’t know they were hangovers. The first DUI I knew my dad got was when I was in college.

I wonder about affairs. Dad traveled for many years for work. He would leave on Monday’s and not come home until the weekend. He was quite flirtatious. The women all loved him. One night after several drinks it even seemed Mom tried to confess something. I was ready to hear it. I’ve never gone back and asked. My brother’s first marriage failed because he had affairs. My sister married a man whose wife had only been dead two months—their relationship had been “building” before the death. He ended up having affairs on Sis and they divorced. And then there’s me.

Not only did we know how to wear smiles to cover our shame; we knew mastered the art of the disconnected or fragmented life. Have you ever watched a little kid eat who can’t stand to have their food touch? Frantic effort is expended to make sure that there is no inner-mingling between meat and potatoes or potatoes and veggies. I was so completely deluded that I thought I could keep all those things separated in my life—denial. It’s poison, slowly killing the soul.

Tuesday morning a new group of workers started out at the plant. I’m supervising them. They’re working in conjunction with T-Net and with Job and Family Services. They have to work so many hours to continue to receive their benefits (food stamps). The agreement between T-Net and the R Company is that the work that these folks do will not be anything that would be regular R Company work. So mostly it’s busy work. Takes a lot of supervision. But I digress…

Anyway, when this group started on Tuesday, Dan introduced me and in that introduction told them I had a pretty interesting story that he hoped I would tell them some day. It’s the felon makes good story. I sort of blitzed by that and hoped that no one would ask. They didn’t on Tuesday, or on Wednesday. Today they reminded me and they asked so I gave them the Reader’s Digest version. Even without giving them a single detail of my crime, they stood there and a couple jaws dropped. I just don’t look the part. I don’t act the part. I’m not the part and yet I am.

You know, thinking back over this, perhaps there’s more than 40lbs I need to lose.

And why do I want to go to this reunion anyway? There are a few people I would dearly love to see. The group I hung out with were the brainiacs. My dear friend is a doctor, a heart surgeon. One of gang is a music professor at a university in the Chicago area. One was the editor of a popular magazine here in Ohio. Will the people I really want to see be there? Is there anybody wondering about me?

My life probably would seem like a tremendous disappointment to them. At times it feels that way to me and yet I know that it has been through brokenness that I have come to understand real love and forgiveness demonstrated through Nelson (over and over). It wasn’t until the arrogance was shattered and I reached out to grab the hand of one far greater than me that I began to see my significance.

These days there’s a smile, but it’s not contrived or covering. It’s born of genuine contentment—thin at spots and hard to discern but there nonetheless. And the masks come out rarely if ever. I’m just learning how to really be real.

Ok, now I’m sitting here and I’m wondering, not so much how I’ll tell my story, but what stories of journeys others have taken. Surely, I’m not the only one with heartache and growth to share.

I wonder how much weight everyone else is thinking about losing before April 1st.

Reader's Digest Version

I have not dropped off the face of the planet.
New Year’s Eve with friends was an absolute blast. Laughed a LOT and ate way too much.
Tuesday started feeling sick. Went to bed before 8pm and slept all night. Felt better, but definitely have a cold. Yay.
Wednesday after work Nelson and I went grocery shopping. He rode around in one of those electric carts. It was just so good to have him out and about.
At Beth’s appointment on Tuesday she learned that the baby now weighs 7lbs 13oz and will probably come in the next two weeks.
Things are possibly shaking up a bit at work…will write more about that later.
Nelson started feeling sick last night. He took some meds and went to bed early.
I slept late this morning and now have to rush. I’ll be back.