Big

"The summer Olivia grew up" is how Daniel coined the big changes around here about two weeks ago.

She is now sleeping in a beautiful, "big girl" bed, and her room has been redesigned to accommodate the "upgrade" suitable for our big girl.  The crib and rocker have been moved into the other room, awaiting the next little Elgan, as well as toys she once played with and clothes that she's too big now for (in the event the next little Elgan is a girl).

She's acquired her first big (okay little) pet that she is responsible for feeding: a goldfish named Pumpkin (his name was "Mr. Pee-Pee" at first, but we thought we'd change that before it became a big mistake!).  Pumpkin was a big "prize" she had wanted and earned; we set off to the Petco fish department two Saturdays ago once she completed placing stickers on her "potty chart" for going pee-pee in the big toilet.  Like a big girl.

She is able to do just about anything us big people do, and gets a kick out of dressing up like a big, big girl in click-clacks (heels) with a purse over her shoulder and a cell phone in her hand.  She helps me cook big meals, she enjoys watching musicals on the big tv, is fond of reading big old books, pedals her little bicycle with ease on the big sidewalk, brushes her teeth with her big toothbrush, and loves to have her nails painted in big, bold colors.

She's growing up.  She's growing up too fast.  Into a big girl.

She'll begin preschool in August.  If everything goes according to plan, she'll be a big sister within the next year or two.

As I watched her nap today in that big girl bed of hers, I was brimming with pride over the fact that she is my daughter.  My growing up, big girl of a daughter with big possibilities awaiting her.

In her sweet little eyes, big wonder.

In her captivating smile, big joy.

In her dainty little fingers, big curiosity.

In her quick little feet, big adventure.

In her precious little words, big knowledge.

In my heart, big love.

All grOWN up

Spring fever has hit Daniel and I.  Winter is over, and the desire to move ourselves from hanging out inside to existing in the great outdoors is in full swing.  We've been planting, pulling, and pruning a lot lately with the arrival of this nice sunny weather, and have taken to sitting on the back patio in the evening to enjoy a glass of wine or a fruity popsicle while listening to James Taylor on the record player and watching our daughter play.

We're always looking for new ideas to help us make the most of our yard, which has lead to subscriptions of magazines like Sunset and Better Homes and Gardens. This morning, while sipping my sugar induced cup of java and thumbing through the pages of the latter, I found my mind wandering to the possibilities that lie in between our home and the (haphazard) backyard fence.  One thought compounded into another, and before I knew it, I found myself thinking of how much I have learned since we first purchased our home four short years ago.  Being the idealists that we are, we bought our home when it was in a complete and utter desperate state of needing improvement on every square inch of the property.  At that time, this fact thrilled us because we longed to make it our own.  We craved for our first home to have charm and character that matched Daniel and Emily, and didn't even remotely resemble the former owners (lack thereof said charm and character).

When we first moved in, I had yet to acquire an understanding of one very important element required to beautify homes and yards: MONEY.  Back then, I had dreams of terra cotta patios layered with whimsical, iron chaise lounges, tons of draping greenery, water features... ya know, something out of a home in old Hollywood.  Something from the pages of a magazine!  There were gorgeous pots with abundant color cascading the tops, hidden bungalows for sitting constructed of billowy fabric, and glorious wrought iron art dabbled through the landscape, yielding an old world feel to my dream yard. 

But over the years, I have learned that it was just that: a dream yard.  It wasn't functional, practical, or affordable for us as a young couple (now turned into a young family) given that a plant - just the plant - is a minimum of $10 at Lowe's.  And then the real kicker with that ten bucks Lowe's plant is that it will die within a week of planting it because I: a.) suck at planting, b.) live in the sun drenched "I.E.," which equals plant scorchage, and c.) am infamous for picking the most sensitive of plants because they're pretty and make me happy.  I've discovered (the hard way) that pretty and happy equates pissy and temperamental in the plant world.  Good thing they're returnable when they follow in the footsteps of their forefathers that I have managed to ruin.  After departing bliss in the nursery they came from, they're bound to reduce to mere leafless sticks on my watch.  As I type, I think of the poor chap (a hibiscus that Maui inspired) I have waiting in the wings.  I have even tried transplanting it to a more desirable location, which doesn't seem to be working in either of our favors.  Time to find that receipt...

In spite of an occasional stick or two (or three or a million), our home and yard have both come a long way.  While they might not make it in the world of the Hollywood hills, they're both making it in ours.  Of course there are many things that still need some improvement, and some things we just plain want.  Much to my husband's chagrin (it is the thorn in his side, let me tell you), we still use plastic storage bins as a dresser.  We don't have a formal bed (another painful thorn; this one causes bleeding).  The countertops in the bathroom are... old... and yellowish (?) in certain areas.  The fence is on it's last post, and probably won't make it through another winter.  The grass is dead in some areas, the kitchen is small, the tile floors didn't turn out the way we envisioned.  The house needs to be painted, the shower in the master bathroom makes a leaking sound, and we have standing fans positioned all over...

Ceiling fans would be awesome!

A flatscreen on the bedroom wall would be so nice!

An arbor on the side of the house would be delightful!

New rock fireplaces (one inside and one out; I have pictures torn out of magazines!) would absolutely take the cake!

In the end, our home sweet home and yard still remain works in progress, allowing me the possibility to dream.  I'll do so gladly, as I gaze at the swaying palms from Costco that we planted along the back fence, walk on the concrete we had laid by a friend, sit under the lighting we installed, put up my feet on the couch we paid cash for, pick a rose whose color we hand-selected, or sit at the table on our patio, enjoying a glass of wine or a fruity popsicle, listening to James Taylor, and watching O play in her playhouse that Daddy built.

Owning it all, I'll admit that magazine editors are not banging down our (needs to be re-painted) front door to feature us on the cover of next month's edition and that it's definitely not Hollywood in our neck of the woods.  But I've come to realize one thing that makes me smile: it's better.  It's far better, because it's us.  Which is exactly what we wanted to begin with.

Breathe

I remember when we met Olivia like it was yesterday.  She greeted us five weeks early, which took us careful planners by complete surprise.  Talk about a lesson in showing you just how unpredictable parenting truly is!  Awaiting her birth, I cracked jokes, held Daniel's hand, and existed as just part of the Daniel and Emily "expecting" duo.  Her exodus was being closely monitored by eleven hospital staff, ranging from doctors to medical students to nurses to NICU personnel; there was uncertainty as to what the little premature life emerging into the world that evening would need, so every measure was in place.  After about fifteen minutes of "pushing," she made her entrance, and was quickly whisked to the side to be wiped and suctioned and whatever else they do to cleanse the sweet new little person who has just entered  the room.  Once whomever was doing that was done, I was given a few moments with her before they attached her to a machine on wheels that would monitor her breathing.  I remember holding her, and for the first time in my life, feeling insanely protective.  Responsible.  A little scared, because up until that point, I had had all the answers to everything... and at that moment, I knew I so didn't.  As I bent down and kissed this soft, tiny, five pounds, three ounces being, I whispered "breathe" to her.  Seconds later, a woman took her out of my arms and wheeled her away to another room.

She did well over the course of the next two hours.  Daniel was able to stay with her, which was a comfort to me.  After that ordeal, the three of us were finally reunited, and we headed off to our private "suite" where we were able to begin interacting as a family.  However, in spite of the fact that she was released to come and stay in our room with us, she was still being closely monitored.  The word "breathe" remained a focus for us, as I spent the entire first night of her life watching the reading on the machine to make sure the number on it didn't fall below 90.  Once morning came, I was thrilled that the night had passed and she had no complications.  She had breathed.

The day we left the hospital, in order to be released, O had to go "sit" in her car seat for an hour and a half, once again hooked up to machines to monitor her breathing.  I sat in a chair beside her, praying she would breathe well enough for us to go home.  She did.

Now, two years later, I still find myself saying "breathe" to her, but for different reasons.  She's got the whole subconscious thing of having to breathe to sustain life down pat (LOL), but I'll remind her to breathe when she gets upset, or when she gets hurt and is justifiably crying because she has a "boo boo," or when we are practicing our swimming in the bath tub and attempting at sticking our face into the water.

As I came to realize all of these "breathe" moments this evening, it donned on me that this word may be a common thread for us in many important moments during her life.  Maybe before she goes to school, or takes the stage for the first or even the hundredth time, or the first time she takes riding lessons, or when she's doing homework and becomes irritated at point of difficulty (hopefully with her mama/daddy's brains, those shouldn't be too many!).  Maybe before tests, or when she's trying to make new friends, or when she peddles a bike.  Maybe when she's angry that mama won't let her have another cookie.

And then... then I got to thinking of how I may continue to utter the word to her years down the road.  Acquiring her driver's license!  Her first crush.  Her first broken heart.  Any sub sequential crushes and/or broken hearts.  The SAT.  Opening her college acceptance letters.  Applying for financial aid.

I even went beyond that, envisioning the big, adult "days" like when she's graduating college (magna cum laude?), getting married (and us paying for it... in that case, I may have to be telling Daniel to breathe), having her own first child.  And I see myself there, reminding her to breathe.

I know that with each time I do so, I will be taken back to that first day... the day I became a mommy, and didn't necessarily have all the answers, but had one good idea to help us out along the way: breathe.

This one's for you, Ethel!

As a woman, I've found that I treasure the quality of my friendships far more than I value the quantity of friends I can count.  I warmly smile when I think that over the years, one stands apart from the others for so many wonderful reasons.  She has witnessed me personally grow, and rather than drifting away from me (which sometimes happens amongst individuals as time passes and they continue to evolve into their adult identities), she has grown right there with me.  She can contribute to conversations, "You so would not have said that a few years ago," or add to discussions a "Remember when..." to prompt the recollection of fond memories that haven woven together the blanket of our friendship.  She has indulged in every emotion with me, from bawling our eyes out in a parking lot over "leaving" our baby girls (as we had to return to work) for the first time to complete, utter, pee-in-the-pants hysterics in professional settings during which we should have been behaving (flip flops, karate, and spit will do that to you though).  She has assisted me in regaining my composure on more than one occasion for a variety of crazy reasons, and makes sure I remember to think of myself during the busy, sometimes out of the ordinary day ("You WILL eat this taco," or "Go home.  You LOOK sick.  I'll take your kids."), for there are times when I try to pass on doing so as I am obsessively preoccupied with the hustle and bustle to get it all done.  She's fought battles of integrity with me, she's hung out, muddy and tired, in the trenches with me, as together, we pondered where the shovels to dig us out were going to come from (usually, they magically protrude out of my mouth), and in the end, she's stood next to me as we silently celebrated sweet victory (me: "2008-2009 TEACHER OF THE YEAR!"  YEAH!) until we could celebrate loudly in private!  She demonstrates all the attributes of a true, lifelong friend, and I know how lucky I am to have her gift of friendship each and every day.  AND... GET THIS!  SHE READS MY BLOG!  THOROUGHLY!  You know she MUST be my friend if she submits herself to my musings and has stuck around in spite of them, LOL!  Concluding sentence: Maverick hearts your "J"illo-ness, Theodore 3TS-EIT Iceman... English translation: THANK YOU, JESSICA!

Weighing in on the matter...

This morning, while Daniel attempted to make some sense out of the closet in the guest room, I came across pictures from our Caribbean cruise vacation in the summer of 2006.  As I looked at the photos of me traipsing around Jamaica with one prominent, defined chin, I was rambling about how, uh, different I currently look versus the Emily of the not-so-distant past (code for: I was complaining at how "fat" I have comparatively gotten in the three years that have lapsed since then).  While nudging suitcases into the closet, Daniel gave me some credit and justified my comments with, "Well, Emily, a lot has happened since then."  Good husband (LOL)!

After he had moved on to carefully stacking something else, his words definitely lingered, causing me to think about all that has happened since that sail.  The biggest change, of course, was us being blessed with Olivia, as a month or so after we returned from that voyage we found out that I was pregnant with her.

And now, at the age of two, sitting next to me on the guest bed examining photos of gigantic iguanas basking in the sun at the Mayan ruins, was this huge, beautiful portion of my life's "plate."  I found myself smiling as I thought of how much my priorities have changed in these three short years, and how my life is just no longer my own.  No, I am not as skinny as I was, as I can't not eat or crash diet for a day or two, or go exercise whenever I feel like it, or sleep for hours on end.  But now... now I get to indulge in snack time with my daughter (I love listening to and watching her thoroughly enjoy her food), I get to run around the back yard and push Olivia on her bikes, and I get to cuddle up with her during nap time on a Sunday afternoon.  And even if this makes my jeans slightly more tight (beware of the muffin top!)... and gives me some spillith overith along my bust line (here we go again, the lovely double bubble!)... and adds an extra layer around my face (jowl central!)...

It's completely worth it.  It's beyond being completely worth it.

Daniel continued to organize.  Olivia continued to play with the pictures.  I continued to ponder the issue of weight, and began to contemplate the future.  Her future.  

I found myself focusing on how I want my daughter to grow up healthy and strong, and how I don't want her to be jaded by an all consuming quest to be mod thin.  While I personally don't want to end up being 500 pounds, I believe living a full life means enjoying all life has to offer (a sweet cup of coffee or an evening glass of wine!) and taking advantage of each moment you can be around those that you hold dear.  While I deem that I - the wife, the mom, the grocery shopper - need to perhaps make more conscientious choices about our life style and what we put into our bodies for all three of us, I don't feel as though I need to teach Olivia that she should be afraid to eat, or that she should constantly be in a frame of mind that worries about how she physically appears.  I think that this notion has taken me a while to realize and understand; growing up, I wanted so badly to fit in and be the same as all the other girls... but now, as an adult, I relish in standing out and being me, Emily, in all my magnificent glory (LOL).

And that Emily, well, she's learning the role of a mother is not always an easy one, as every minute of the day, healthy or sick, tired or awake, rich or poor, skinny or not, she is "on," teaching lessons, and therefore has lost a bit of her individual freedom in the process as all eyes are on her every second.  However, this isn't a saddening fact, as she knew she was waving goodbye to that part the first moment she held little  5 pounds, 3 ounces O.  Since then, that piece has become completely filled by this precious responsibility, this amazing being that looks to her for guidance, wisdom, and acceptance.  And that precious little soul shows her daily that she loves her for her... ALL of her.

We put the photos back into their envelope, and I placed them on the closet shelf.  Although she recognized me in those pictures from 2006, she values me in 2009, double-ish chin and all.  For I am mama... she who whips up cheese and crackers like no other... she who chases Bella and Calia around the back yard with her while giggling at the top of her lungs... she who offers endless cuddles after bouncing on the bed with her.

And when you put all those memories on the scale, they weigh far more than the extra pounds...

They outweigh gold.

"Hands-on 101:" A "crash" course for us both!

Being a parent with a sense of humor, I've encountered situations during which I have tried with all of my might not to allow a smile to tug at the corners of my mouth or to let out a silly giggle, as whatever the situation was, it was serious business.  To be honest, even when O is being a little pill, there are times when I just want to laugh - which I'm sure she senses and pills it up even more for my entertainment value.  However, there are times when I have just not been able to keep the much-needed "Mommy face" on... but I'm sure I'm so not the only one that can say this.

We were in a quaint little clothing shop in Lahaina last week, perusing the touristy merchandise, looking for a hat for Daniel and shorts for K.  Since the other two were shopping, I was in charge of supervision.

Before I go any further, let me tell you our little girl is going through a lovebug stage.  With me, with dada, with Ama, and Papa, and Gigi, and the dogs, and the neighbors... with strangers (I know, UH!) that she enjoys giving friendly little pokes to, or pats on their purses or legs as they pass by.  She just loves to share her love with the world!

Which is usually fine and dandy (with the exception of the stranger thing), until someone gets hurt, LOL...

Daniel found a visor.  He proceeded to the cash register, while Karen, Olivia, and myself meandered through a nearby area of women's clothes.  Olivia was out of her stroller, walking in front of it as I pushed.

Compelled by a sudden urge to hug and ecstatic that she found someone new, she did just that... only to stand in sheer horror seconds later as the lady toppled noisily over backwards onto the hardwood floor, broke in half at the torso, and lay limp and disheveled on the floor.

What my daughter didn't realize is that she was limp to begin with... Olivia had hugged, with all her might, the legs of a nicely dressed mannequin.

I looked at Daniel at the register, awaiting a saleswoman to ring him up.  His eyes were screaming, "OMG, OMG, OMG!"  I looked at Karen.  Let me rephrase that.  I looked at Karen's back, practically running away from us while mumbling, "I DON'T KNOW YOU!" jokingly as she disappeared behind some racks.  I could hear her laughing through the shirts and sarongs.

I stood there.  I looked at Olivia.  She was completely frozen, not knowing what to make of it all.  I initially wanted to laugh, and tell her it was okay and what a silly accident to have just happened, as she so did not intend to knock over this huge plastic being.  But then the other side kicked in - the one that wants to teach her important lessons, like how to behave in public, that it is not acceptable to break things in stores, that we should not approach strangers, and that we need to be careful!  And then, I wanted to just put the damn thing back together again, get out of that store, and figure out the rest of the equation outside.

I began with the latter, opting to reassemble the lass before proceeding any further.  I picked her up, and managed to insert the torso peg into her bottom half.  As I did so, an extremely heavy arm fell off and landed smack dab on my forehead, instantly creating a HUGE, PAINFUL knot that still hurts to touch a week later.  I went from wanting to laugh to wanting to cry because it hurt that dang bad... but I just kept telling O that it was okay and that the lady was all better.  I ended up not being able to put the flailing arm back in (I think it was really broken), so I just leaned it against the nearby display table.  As I did so, I noticed that her hand was already sitting on a shelf...

Which made me feel so much better, for it reminded me that I'm not alone in this mothering thing; it made me think that perhaps someone else's child had already knocked the poor "woman" over - if not there, at "Panama Jack's," somewhere, someone has gone through the same scenario and could probably identify with it all...

Outside, Daniel asked what happened to the woman's arm... at which I responded that it was my head we should be worried about... perhaps in more ways than one, LOL!

In spite of the clouds, I reach clarity...

Saturday, aboard a United airplane somewhere in the skies between Kahului and Los Angeles, I bore witness to a situation that left me in a state of self-analysis.

There was this loud woman... sitting in the row in front of us with a little girl a week older than O.  (Leave it to me to strike up a conversation and ask the child's age, as she looked close in age to to our O).  The family was completed with a father, who, from the moment they got on the plane (THEY WERE LAST), the woman bossed around, telling him to take their (unhappy, unruly, unmanaged... notice how I didn't say unmanageable?  The unbelievable behavior was totally not the child's fault...) child for walks around the plane (during which the two year old crawled and screamed), barking at him what food to order for her when the flight attendants came around (in the event that she couldn't because she was just too busy with putting Franklin DVDs on for the child), and articulating to him the exact words to say to which flight attendant in the back for more juice for the sippy cup.  She prefaced the latter by saying, "Go in the back and say... blah blah blah blah," as if the grown man couldn't figure out on his own how to ask a person for apple juice.  

As this scene continued to unfold, and my jaw dropped further and further to the floor in sync with my widening eyeballs and flaring nostrils, I looked over at Daniel, who was entertaining Olivia with Barbies, books, snacks, toys, stories, and sleep.  As I did so, I felt guilt wash over me for all the times that I have acted like the woman.  Granted, my domineering maneuvers don't occur all at once, but still, there have been many a time during which I have been a controlling jerk and made clear that I felt my way was far better than his.

The lump in my throat began to accumulate more bulge (like a ball of rubber bands adding more and more layers), and slowly slid down into my chest, giving me a hugely heavy heart.  I sincerely felt bad, as I listened to this woman not listen to her husband.

Right there, I wanted to take back any unkind word or any action that had ever made Daniel feel less like a partner in parenting and more like an opponent (most recently: boat ride to Molokini... enough said).

And I wanted to cry when the unavoidable reality of not being able to take those things back surfaced seconds later.

Upon arriving at LAX, we received compliments from other passengers on how well behaved O had been during the flight and how we displayed such "good parenting."  I smiled, and paid homage to Daniel, for he had been primarily responsible for her awesome behavior and cheerful disposition on the plane ride home.

As we gathered our belongings, I silently vowed to myself, to my husband, and to our marriage to relax more, to appreciate more, and to listen more to the dreamy man that five years ago I care freely bopped around Hawaii with on a fantastic honeymoon during which we celebrated our love and our future together.  I also thanked my angel, for sometimes she works in mysterious ways to help me see the light... harping plane woman, trying husband, and two year old daughter seated right in front of us, case in point.  How different the road of that family of three will be from ours... how different I earnestly want it to be.

Now the only thing left to do is move forward, learn from life's lessons, plant hibiscus flowers (LOL), and love my husband dearly... I can't wait, as life is too darn short to miss a minute of any of the above.

Standing On the brink Of 2...

24 mOnths.  104 weeks.  730 days.  Regardless Of hOw yOu lOOk at it, it has been a gift, a blessed time filled with wOnderful, perfect memOries... "O," hOw I lOve her!

Happy almOst birthday, baby lOve...

a flower in bloom

or a rainbow parading across the skies

would both wither and fade

should they challenge the twinkle in your eyes

your radiant smile

your whimsical laugh

could convince me to do anything

on your behalf

no sweeter sounds

have ever been heard

than your echoing footsteps

or your delightful new words

within your small hands

you hold dearly that which cannot be seen

for i give you my heart and my hopes

in return you inspire me to dream

as i gaze at you proudly

i recall just how much you've grown

i look to the future with optimism

rejoicing in all that is unknown

what will your next year bring?

what lies ahead for you to accomplish?

with your assertive little spirit

the answer is anything you wish

so take on the world

with one step or word at a time

flash it your smile

dazzle it with the glimmer in your eyes

as you conquer new feats

one sure thing will remain

my love for you will know no end

basking in each beautiful day filled with you, sunshine or rain

Stumped

Has anyone ever been presented with a situation in life in which they know that there is something that you are supposed to take away from it, but for the life of you, you just don't have a clue as to what it is?  

I'm in one right now... lots of ridiculous work drama that simply doesn't warrant a lengthy explanation.  Basically a bunch of uncool people that have said uncool things that I finally chose to "address"... and now the individuals don't speak to me.  Honestly, I prefer the silent treatment rather than having to endure another moment of listening to the garbage that spews continuously out of their mouths... but still, the tension doesn't make for a comfortable work environment.  And what bugs me even more is that I feel that I am SO in the right in all this, yet I am the one that is being shunned.

I just don't know what it is that God wants me to learn.  I truly try to gain wisdom in moments of challenge, to learn from them, to become a better person because I believe these types of experiences, along with many others, happen for a reason...

But I'm having a really hard time learning anything from this other than sometimes it's lonely doing the right thing.  I feel as though I've climbed a mountain of adversity, and I now find myself solitarily standing on the top because others are afraid of the fall...

Is this the lesson?  Is it that simple?  Am I hoping to learn too much from this?  (Probably.)  Am I over-thinking things?  (Usually the case.)

I may not arrive at an answer tonight.  Or tomorrow.  Or ever.  But I have decided to not stew on this (from this point on!), and to propel forward... to continue to love my family more than words, to write silly notes to put in my husband's lunch box each day, to laugh with my friends, to sing in the car, to teach my daughter about rolly pollies and moss, to do my job (well!), to cook orange chicken for dinner after coloring outside with chalk, to watch our shows with my husband at the end of the day, to be true to myself.

My mantra right now, played every day lately during my lunch time, is "Happiness" by The Weepies, which sings about the world being cold and mean, but happiness being a virtue that cannot be taken from someone...

I couldn't agree more.

"A journey of a thousand miles..."

"...begins with a single step." - Anonymous

Every day, I find myself relinquishing more and more of my control-freak mentality and placing it into the hands of my daughter... and I am - surprisingly! - reveling in it.

I feel free.  I feel like just when I thought I had myself figured out (TYPE A, to the tee), I've accepted that perhaps I never will, as life is always propelling us forward and shedding new light upon old ways of thinking.

Although I am the parent, I don't feel as if I should be the dictator.  I embrace the words, "Prepare the child for the path, not the path for the child."

Today's lesson:  We went to Target... and O wanted to walk.  So I let her - gasp! - instead of forcing her to sit in the cart for the duration of the shopping experience.  She was able to walk next to me - gasp! - holding my hand through the parking lot, and right into the wonderful world of Target on her terms. 

I was okay with her being next to me in her clothes section, and with her wandering through the colorful aisles of toys at shelf level.  We even paused multiple times to examine the things that caught her eye.

My baby girl is only going to be a little girl once.  Why should we rush through our days?  My life is not so busy that we can't take a moment to look at Career Barbie together.  My sometimes unrealistic time constraints need to take a back seat... to allow time for us to push a truck down an empty aisle back and forth or to remove some white capri pants off their rack (don't fret, we put them back neatly and in size order, of course... some things will never change, LOL).

Eventually, she wanted to get into the cart so she could eat some snack and drink some juice.  And at that point, she was ready for the shopping to resume.

Little did she know... 

I wasn't.