Friends, playmates and other enemies

Joseph is having his first ever birthday party with friends this coming Saturday.  We're having it a month early so that he was able to pass out invitations before school ended.  This is the first year he as really expressed an interest in a friend party.  Like most things with Joseph, once he got interested in the idea he got REALLY interested in.  This party is his current fixation.

We allowed Joseph to invite 13 kids to the party.  So far six have RSVPed with five yeses and one no.  I don't know if people just don't RSVP anymore or if all the other kids are not coming and their parents just aren't going to call.  We've already tried to set the groundwork so that he wouldn't be too sad if most of the kids can't come.  "It's a busy time of year.  There are lots of graduation parties and weddings and family vacations that people have to go to." and "You can have a really great party with six people.  That's a perfect number!"

To myself though I'm pleading with the universe to please let more kids come to this party.  It means so much to Joseph.  He's been working so hard and planning so much.  He wants the people that come to his party to enjoy themselves.  He wants to enjoy himself.  A big part of that will is dependent upon the people he likes being there with him.  He's such a sweet kid.  I just want him to have a fun party and be happy with the outcome.

We're dealing with bigger issues right now too though.  Elle is the youngest kid in our neighborhood and she's been picked as The Kid To Leave Out Of All The Fun.  The main instigator in all of this is the neighborhood brat across the street.  Most of the other kids on their own are decent enough kids but when the brat is around they tend to bend to her will.  Elle asks if she can join in with them when they play and they say no.  She asks if they want to come over and they say no.  If the brat is around that is.  Again, on their own they're nicer.

The brat is mean and manipulative.  She bribes the other kids in the neighborhood into not playing with Elle.  I have heard her offer the kids candy and Popsicles to get them to come to her house and not play with Elle.  The other day Elle was playing with the another little girl across the street and the brat came outside and saw them playing together.  She went inside and had her parents set her sprinkler up in the yard.  Then she came over and invited the other little girl to come over for a "sprinkler party".  Elle eagerly asked if she could come too.  "Please?" she chirped.  "I can go get my swimsuit on now!"

"You're not invited.  It's just a sprinkler party for my friends and we're going to have Popsicles too."

Elle cried and came back home.  The brat's mom stood in her front yard and watched all this and never said a word.  She just turned on the sprinkler and went inside.  Elle and I played a board game but she occasionally cast a wistful glance out the front window when the sounds of screams and laughter drifted across the street.

I've promised Elle that we will have plenty of sprinkler parties of our own and that I will make her the homemade lemonade popsicles that she loves.  And when the brat comes over to ask if she can join in (and she will) I have given Elle permission to say no and to be as rude as she wants about it.  Please don't tell me to be the bigger person here.  My daughter is sweet and tender hearted and it's in her nature to be kind.  She reminds me of myself when I was young.  "What's that? You want to kick me in the teeth?  Ok, but I still want to be your friend ok?"  I want Elle to know she doesn't have to take crap from people and do it with a smile.

Right now I'm on a mission to get a playground set for Elle.  All the families around us have them and all the kids play on each other's playgrounds.  Our yard has a big garden and an apple tree and a dying grape vine.  Wonderful for us but not so great for attracting playmates.  Those playground sets are expensive so I'm trying to find a used one. We have neighbors with a nice one I've offered to buy but they're undecided.  They have no young kids but I think they want to hang on to it just in case their kids have kids soon.  So now I'm scouting craigslist for a playground to help make Elle more popular.

Oy.  This was not a part of parenting that I was prepared for.

 How could anyone say no to these little dolls?

One year ago today my kids cleaned the bathroom.
Three years ago I added a chapter to Joseph's adoption story.

A short story about friendship

She lifted her head up from between my legs and peered over the top of the sheet at me.  "I think you're ovulating right now."

This is what happens when your best friend is a nurse midwife and you go to her for a pap smear.

One year ago today my in-laws were not on board with the baby growing.
Two years ago today I flew.

I like you so much that I would read a bad book for you

Remember how I am on a quest to meet new people? And how sometimes it goes terribly, horribly wrong? Yeah, I remember that.

Well, I don't give up easily so a few weeks ago I went to a book club meeting. And guess what. It didn't suck! It was fun and the people in it were normal. Well, there was this one lady who would not SHUT UP about her back surgery but there's one in every group* so I can't really complain.

The best part was that I met someone. And she was nice and funny and interesting and she smelled like lavender. And the more I talk about her the more it sounds like I want to date her.

Now I have to make the plunge and ask her next week if she would like to exchange phone numbers and maybe get together for coffee or something some time. I'm not really nervous about it because we got along well last time and ended up chatting for half an hour after the book club had ended so I don't think it will be too weird.

My only problem now is that in order to see this person again I have to read the books that the book club picks. The books. Oh god, they're awful. This month's book is so horrible that I actually feel resentful every time I pick it up. I have over half of the book left and I'm having to force myself to slog through it. It makes me so angry that every few pages I find myself thinking "Oh forget it! I'll just stop reading it and skip out on this stupid book club!"

But then I remember this nice person I'm trying to get to know and I remember how she funny she was and how she smelled like lavender and I keep pressing on. I know that sounds stalkerish and but she laughed at my jokes so I kind of don't care how creepy I'm coming off here.

I guess I should get back to it. I have 237 pages of total crap to get read before next week. Sigh. Wish me luck.

*Really, there is one in every group. If you're ever in a group and you think there isn't at least one weirdo? It's because you're the weirdo. I'm sorry to break it to you but speaking as a person who has played the part of the weirdo many times, I know of that which I speak.

The ultimate faux pas

Long, long ago, in another life, I was a cashier. It was a terrible job. Mind numbing and repetitive and dull. It was made even worse by the fact that the store I worked in was located in Cracky McCracktown. The customers were an interesting mix of drunks, crackheads, lowlifes and 98 year old women who paid paid for everything with pennies and tried to use 43 year old coupons. It was a bad job. (Here's a tip. When you go to the grocery store make an effort to treat your cashier like a human being. You will probably be the first non-asshole to cross her path all day.)

One day when I was at work a couple came running into the store. "He's got a knife! He's after us!" the woman shouted.

"Yeah" the man added helpfully. "He's got a knife and he's coming in here!"

The other cashiers and I looked at each other, unsure what to do. We didn't see anyone coming with a knife. None of the other customers seemed to be reacting. Slowly the other cashiers and I returned to what we had been doing. If that seems like an odd reaction I should tell you that the man who had ran in shouting had gone to the pharmacy and the woman had grabbed a cart and started shopping.

A couple of minutes passed and I happened to glance towards the front door just as a large man holding a large knife walked in.

Now I don't want to get all "You think that's a knife? This is a knife!" on you but this was a knife. It was long and sharp and had a wicked curved point at the end.

"Sandy!" I frantically hissed to the cashier next to me. "There's a man with a knife!"

I think I was looking for someone to tell me what to do but Sandy was no help. She turned white and looked back at me helplessly. "What do we do?" she whispered.

Because of the way the store was laid out most of the people there had no idea what was going on. The people at the customer service desk (where the phones were located) couldn't see the man. Most of the customers didn't realize anything unusual was going on. The cashiers were the first to realize what was happening but none of us knew what to do. We all just sort of froze.

The man paced back and forth across the front of the store. It seemed clear that he was looking for the couple that had run into the store just a few minutes earlier. He walked over to the customer service area. Once he got close one of the women working behind the desk saw that he had a knife and made a face that all these years later I still think of as the ultimate WTF face.

The man walked away from the service desk and the people behind immediately picked up the phone to call the police.

By this time the customers were starting to grumble about us cashiers not ringing them up. "Yes, yes, we know there's a knife wielding maniac just feet away from you" their grumbles seemed to say "but we really have got a lot to do today and these Oreos aren't going to ring themselves up."

Even stranger than that was that some of the cashiers actually went back to ringing people up. I think we were all just hoping that if we ignored the man with knife he would just go away. Luck was not with us. The woman who had run in yelling came walking up the aisle with her shopping cart and the man spotted her.

"AHA!" she shouted to no one in particular. "I told you he was after us!" She looked oddly triumphant and it seemed to me that the time for "I told you so" was not when a man with a knife was after you. This didn't occur to her. She continued "He's mad because he says I owe him food stamps but I'm not giving him shit and he's after me with a knife!"

The large man started moving towards the woman, slowly at first but them faster and faster. She abandoned her shopping cart and backed up, still yelling how she didn't own him anything.

Now this is the point where the customers and cashiers should have done something like, perhaps, flee. We didn't. We just stood there. Well, most of us did. I found out later that one stock boy had opened up a back door and was herding customers out the back entrance to get them away from the front where the man with the knife was. The rest of us were utterly useless.

It's worth mentioning that the entire time this was going on there was a 98 year old woman at the front of my line counting out exact change to pay for her groceries. I am not kidding you, I swear that it's true. She never even noticed the commotion around her because she was too busy digging in her purse for pennies.

Things quickly got scarier as the man with the knife really started to chase the woman. She darted between customers and behind cash registers. The man kept coming after her. She stopped six inches in front of me and yelled again that she didn't owe him anything and that he wasn't getting her food stamps. The man started the come closer. The old lady in my line continued to count out change. The cashier next to me grabbed the old lady and yanked her out of the way of the man with the knife. The old lady looked confused but after the man with the knife passed us she went right back to counting change.

I don't even know how long the chase went on. I just kept thinking that any second the police would get there and this would all be over and I could go back to my stupid, crappy job and pretend that a man who looked like Grizzly Adams had never walked into the store carrying the Knife of Maiming and Blood.

Finally the man had woman cornered and her survival instincts kicked in. As the man closed in on her she threw her cigarettes and food stamps at him. As she threw them she screamed "Here they are Dave! That's all I've got! I hope you're happy Dave! This is the ultimate faux pas of friendship!"

The man scooped up the cigarettes and food stamps and walked out of the store ... right as the police pulled up. They hand cuffed him and he didn't resist at all.

All the cashiers had to give statements telling what they had seen. I went first and when I spoke my voice was shaky and quiet. The officer taking my statement had to keep asking me to speak up so that they tape would pick up what I was saying. I described everything I had seen. When I got to the part where they woman screamed "This is the ultimate faux pas of friendship!" my voice cracked.

I burst into giggles.

The officer looked surprised and then asked me to repeat what she had said. I did and then he had to stop the tape because the two of us were laughing for two straight minutes. When I walked out of the room I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

My fight or flight instinct never kicked in that day but I guess I can at least be glad I didn't lose my sense of humor.

Two years ago today I talked about being pregnant as a surrogate.
Three years ago today Joseph thought I should be a nerd.
Four years ago today I couldn't hear anything but then I could but then I had to listen to whining.

True friends help you give birth - Part III

For the rest of my pregnancy I didn't see much of Jen. We got together once to discuss my birth plan but that was about it. (This was the first time I met Jen's daughter who has since charmed me to such a degree that I have become convinced that that she and Joseph will need to get married some day. Or she can marry Elle. Whatever, I'm open minded. I just want her for my daughter-in-law.)

They day before Little A was born I was at my regular 38 week check-up with my ob. My doctor made my year when he said he would induce me the next day. I was so excited! The next day was Jen's day off at the clinic. She would be able to be there for the birth. Our we'll-make-it-work-if-we-can plan had worked. As I was leaving the exam room I ran into Jen's nurse in the hallway. I snagged her and told her the news and we squealed and jumped up and down. She went and grabbed Jen and then the three of us squealed and jumped up and down.

Jesse and I headed to the hospital early the next morning. Jen arrived shortly after I was hooked up to the pitocin. The three of us played cards for a while until the contractions made it too hard for me to pay attention. (My birth story is here if anyone is interested. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with every detail of it all over again.)

Once the contractions really got painful Jen became my rock. Oh, don't get me wrong. It was wonderful having Jesse there too but it was different with Jen. Maybe because she had been a doula before, maybe because she's a woman who has given birth. All I know is that she always seemed to know exactly what I needed. My back rubbed, my hand held, something comforting and reassuring said. She didn't leave my side for the entire 10 hours or so that I was in labor. When I was pushing a started to panic a little bit she talked me through it. I really credit Jen with letting me have the kind of birth experience that I really wanted.

Immediately after Little A was born I laid back in the hospital bed. I was overwhelmed by emotions. I felt so happy and satisfied and proud and relieved and awed. I looked up at Jen (who was still standing right by me holding my and) and I felt a sudden rush of sadness. I thought "Here's this amazing person that's come into my life and given me an incredible amount of love and support and this short, intense period and now I'm not going to be able to see her anymore. Now that her job is done, our relationship is done too."

Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind I felt Jen give my hand a squeeze. She leaned over, looked me right in the eye and said "This is not over. You and I are not over." Through gulped back sobs I agreed. Yes, we would be friends beyond that day.

And that's exactly what we've done. We've only gotten closer since Little A was born. We talk all the time, we text constantly. We watch each others kids and get our families together for game nights. She has me over to her house for baked goods after old woman scar me and I buy her fake spider webs at the craft store. We have laughed together and cried together and gotten drunk together. She has seen me at my best and at my worst. She puts up with my mood swings and neediness and neurosis and I put up with her ........ I don't' know. I don't have to put up with much. I guess I tolerate her love for brewing beer. There's not much we don't know about each other but we each accept the other for what we are without judgement or condition. Hell, she's seen me naked and even that didn't send her screaming for the hills.

I know I sometimes complain about not having enough friends but I need to try to remind myself of all that I've actually got. I several family members that I am very close to, some of whom even feel like sisters to me. My brother, in spite of being surly and curmudgeonly, is always there for me. I have a few good blog-friends who have enriched my life in ways I would not have imagined possible back when I started this blog.

And I have Jen. I was looking for a friend like her for a long time and instead of finding someone like her, I found her. I am very, very lucky.

One year ago today I mooned a bus full of people.
Three years ago today my blog had a guest poster.
Four years ago today I continued my obsession with pooping while giving birth. This this time with a twist.

True friends help you give birth - Part II

When I was pregnant with Elle I woke up one morning unable to hear out of either ear. "Oh no!" I rationally thought. "I have pregnancy induced deafness!" I made a quick trip to the doctor where I was schooled on how pregnancy can't make you deaf but it can cause huge amounts of wax to build up in your ears which is gross and weird but not nearly as dramatic as what I had imagined.

I was older and wiser when I was pregnant with Little A so I was not too terribly worried when I woke up one morning and found myself unable to hear anything. I was just glad it happened on a day when I had a regular pre-natal check up scheduled.

When I got to the doctor's office I waited and waited and waited to be seen. Finally a nurse came out to the waiting room to tell me the doctor was running behind and would I mind seeing Jen instead? I eagerly replied "JEN?!?! I LOVE JEN!! THAT WOULD BE GREAT!!" (Because when you can't hear anyone you start to think they can't hear you either unless you are very, very loud.)

The nurse gave me a smile that said "Its my job to be compassionate and caring but I'm glad I don't have to deal with you anymore because your reaction freaked me out a little bit" and had me sit back down in the waiting room.

Moments later Jen's nurse came to bring me to an exam room. Here's the funny thing about Jen's nurse. She and I actually used to work together before Jesse and I were married and we were pretty friendly. We hadn't seen each other in years and it was lots of fun catching up. And by catching up I mean I screamed at her about my waxy ears and she marveled over exactly how huge my ass gets when I'm pregnant.

When Jen came into the room we hugged and then I yelled at her about my waxy ears. Considering how much I had liked Jen the first time I met her this wasn't exactly the second impression I wanted to make. "I was so glad to have made your acquaintance! I am gross and produce excess excretions!" Jen was cool as a cucumber though. She didn't even flinch, just set about trying to clean my ears out.

Only she couldn't do it. And if you want to feel awesome try having ears so waxy that even a trained medical professional can't get them clean. "I'm going to get my nurse." Jen muttered.

If you want to feel really awesome have someone you used to be friends with but have not seen for years weigh you and then hold a cup of your pee in their hands. Then have them try to clean out your blocked ears. There is no way to look or feel when cool when you have two people trying to dislodge wax from your ears. (In the interest of full disclosure I have to say that at one point another nurse was called in to consult on the situation. I wish I was kidding.)

At this point I was nearly in tears. Jen and her nurse were being great about the whole thing but I really don't like the center of attention like that. Especially when the reason for all the attention is that my body's byproducts have super-glue powers.

I did what I always do when I am in awkward situations. I joked. Badly. "Haha!" I chuckled weakly to the nurse. "Aren't you glad we get to see each other again? You're learning all kinds of new things about me!"

And to Jen "Who else can you bring in to help that I know? My husbands boss? My old daycare lady? That boy I had a crush on in 4th grade?"

And without missing a beat Jen replied "No, we're going to have him come in for your first cervical check."

And in that instant I knew that I didn't just want Jen to be my doula. I wanted her to be my friend. It's not often that you meet someone who can make you laugh, really laugh, while someone is standing next to you squirting water into your ear to create a kind of earwax soup. And when you do meet a person like that? You find a way to hang onto them.

We all know that friend making is not my strong suit though. It would be several more months until I really felt like Jen and I had become real friends. And all it took was for me to squeeze a person out of my body.

Four years ago today I thought Elle was a boy.

True friends help you give birth - Part I

I have talked about my friend Jen very briefly before on blog but I want to talk about her a little more today. I figure I should balance out some of the whining about not having friends with a story celebrating one of the really amazing friends that I do have.

Jen and I met by accident. She's a nurse midwife at the clinic I had all my pre-natal stuff done at when I was pregnant with Little A. During this time I had been searching for a doula to be there during the birth but I had not been having any luck finding one. In fact, I had even asked at the clinic where Jen works if they knew of any and the people I asked had just given me a blank stare. It's a pretty good bet that if a person has no idea what the word you just used means, they're not going to be able to help too much.

One day my ob was running really behind on appointments and I was asked if I would be willing to see a nurse midwife in his place. At that point I would have seen a janitor if it would have gotten me out of there faster so I agreed. I have to admit that when I heard the word "midwife" I was expecting to see someone who looked like this so I was a little surprised when instead this young, sassy looking redhead walked in. I liked her right away.

Anyone who knows me knows I am a talker and a sharer. Give me two minutes and I've give you my life story. That is, if I know you. If we've just met I'm more likely to stare at you in panic and terror if you try to talk to me. I'm really not so good at meeting new people. Right away though there was something about Jen that made me feel at ease. Two minutes after she walked into the room I was spilling my guts all over the place. I was telling her the sort of stuff that I don't even put on this blog and you know that's got to be personal because, um, hello?

The best part of the conversation came when I told Jen I was having a hard time finding a doula. She was pretty irritated that I was having such a hard time finding someone. Err, not irritated at me, irritated at the people who had refused to help me because I was having a child for a gay couple. See, before Jen became a nurse midwife she was a doula so she understood what an important role a doula can play in a birth. She told me about some places I might have more luck finding a doula and then, to top it all off, gave me her number at the clinic to call in case I needed more help.

Her number. Haha. She didn't know this at the time but I don't call people. Not people I don't know. I won't even call to order a pizza. As I walked out of the clinic that day I held her phone number in my hand and thought to myself "Man, I wish I could have her as my doula." I thought about it all that day and all of the next. Then I did something I never do. I picked up the phone and I called her.

Imagine my surprise and delight when she said that not only would she love to be my doula but that when I left the clinic that day she had been thinking "I wish I could be her doula."

And so it was set. We agreed that she would be my doula ..... if I gave birth while she was not at work. That was ok with me though. I was just happy that there was a chance she would be there. I was happy I had found someone I had clicked with so well. What I didn't know at the time was that the next time I would see Jen, things would not have as happy an outcome.

One year ago today I answered some questions about surrogacy.
Four years ago today I was still worried about pooping while giving birth.

Thank you for ruining the word "hobby" for me

As you may know I am working on meeting new people and making new friends. Last night I tried something new and attended a crocheting group at my local craft store. My hope was that there would be at least one person there I could chat with. That was my simple hope. My simple, is-that-really-asking-so-much hope.

For the first half hour of the "group" I was the only one there. I tried to crochet in a friendly looking manner thinking maybe that would lure more people in. When that didn't work I crocheted sullenly. That did the trick. Moments after switching over to sullen mode I was joined by an old lady who smelled of stale Newport cigarettes.

The old lady had a crochet project with her but she didn't work on it very much. Mostly she just talked about her various medical ailments and forced me to look at her scars. You've got to give it up for medical science. It allows someone who's had two strokes, an aneurysm and a fall down two flights of stairs to still be up and waking around and scaring the bejesus out of random strangers.

The defining moment of the evening came when the old lady started to tell me about one of her surgeries. She told me "They split me open from my boobs to my hobby room!"

And when she said "hobby room" she pointed to her crotch.

Then it was time for me to leave.

So last night was a bit of a bust. I didn't meet any new friends and now I can't hear the word "hobby" without a little piece of my soul dying.

One year ago today Joseph got in touch with his past lives.
Two years ago today I was forced to do yet another meme.

A fun girl to be around

A real conversation with Jesse:

Me: I wish I had more friends.
Jesse: You just need to find a group of people who have the same interests as you.
Me: ......... I wish I had more interests.

Poor Jesse. Whenever I'm feeling lonely he has to try and do his best to prop me up and make me feel better. It's not that I want to be a big sad sack, it's that I don't know what else to do.

How do you make friends when you're an adult? I know it's pathetic that I'm even asking that but I'm serious. I don't work. I didn't go to school here so I can't call up old school friends. I'm horribly shy. I have a hard time doing new things unless I'm with someone I already know and that kind works against the purpose of meeting new people. My previous attempts at meeting people with similar interests and similar lives have been less than successful.

It's not like I have no friends at all. I have a few and I value them very much but I guess I just wish I had more. I wish my evenings had more "I think I'll call up soandso and see if they want to blah blah blah whatever it is people do together" and less "I think I'll see if my brother's on Facebook tonight."

So come on interent people, sitting there in your bathrobe with the Cheetos stain on it, tell me how I make friends! Or else I will be forced to ask Jesse to spend yet another evening rubbing my feet and telling me how awesome I am.

Just go ahead and cry already

I swore I wasn't going to cry when I watched this. I swore!



Yeah, that didn't last. Excuse me, I have something in my eye.

How many of your friends have seen your vagina?

I sent my friend Jen a text today that said "can you call me when you get a chance? I have a question about my period" Before I even had a chance to think about how lame/weird it is that I'm 31 years old and I still have questions about my period, my phone rang. It took her about four seconds to call me back after getting my text. In addition to being a nurse/midwife she really enjoys answering people's stupid questions about their periods. And she's just a really good friend.

After answering my period question (which I will not be going into here because I like to be able to pretend that there's a line I won't cross when it comes to revealing every little thing about my body functions) she said "If you're still concerned about it you can come in. I've got a couple of open spots tomorrow."

Uh. No. Thank you, but no.

See, I first met Jen when she was covering OB appointments for my regular doctor when he was off delivering a baby. I saw her a few times throughout my pregnancy so of course at some point along the way she saw my lady bits. When she was my doula as I delivered Little A she got to see my lady bits in glorious, vivid detail. I never felt weird about it because at that point, even though I liked her a great deal, I still saw her as a medical professional.

Since A was born Jen and I have become really good friends. My family has gone over to her house for dinner. We've had Game Night together. We've gone out to drink wine and eat fancy food. She went rock climbing with me.

And now that we're such good friends I feel weird about having her see me "down there". I know it's just a stupid hang up on my part but it still feels weird. Maybe that's just me. Or is it? Would you feel the same way about it? Let's have a poll shall we? We shall.

What should I have said?

Last week Jesse and I wend out to dinner with a co-worker of Jesse's and his wife. Um, the co-workers wife, not Jesse's. Anyway. They were very nice and we had a really good time with them. It's so rare that I get to go out with other adults so it was very nice for me. Mostly. Except for one part.

At one point the topic of my surrogacy came up and they were curious about it, asking lots of questions. I'm pretty used to that and at this point I figure I've heard just about everything anyone is going to ask. I guess I haven't heard it all though because after I told them that I was carrying the baby for a gay couple they proceeded to ask me which one was the woman in the relationship.

I'm ashamed to admit that my answer was not as good as it could have been. I blame this on the fact that I was so taken aback by the question that a good 50% of my brain had to be devoted to keeping my mouth from blurting out "Holy crap! There are still people out there that think like that!?!" I think I kind of mumbled something about neither of them being the woman but it was a cop out answer and I could have done a lot better.

I think what made it hard was that they question wasn't asked in a mean way. I mean, these were nice people asking an amazingly stupid question. I know that they weren't trying to be hateful but they just really had no idea about how ignorant and offensive that question was. If they had been rude about it I could have been rude right back and that wouldn't have been a problem for me. The problem for me came because I didn't know how to respond to such cheerful cluelessness.

How do you tell two very nice people "Wow, that's the stupidest thing I've heard in a while. Have you been out of the house in like, the last 20 years or so?"