Chicken pox...

Yes. I’m THAT parent. That parent who CHOSE to halt immunizations. That parent who, upon discovering that our 3^rd child most likely had autism, STOPPED giving vaccinations to our younger son too.  GASP! I’m THAT parent who has some children who are fully immunized, some who are partially immunized and one who has never had any shots at all. Oh my! And boy do I get flack for that! Come on people…pick your jaws up off the floor. It is a choice I made.  A choice that I still stand by.  A choice that was right for my children. THAT’s what ultimately matters; making sure our children are safe and healthy.

Fast forward to Tuesday, January 26, 2016…

My phone is ringing. I look at my phone in question.  I don’t recognize the number. Who could that be; the school calling, maybe? “Hello?” I answered. It is the school nurse.  “I have kind of an interesting situation here,” she began.

“Okay?”

“There’s a child in our school with a confirmed case of the chicken pox. Since you’re children are not immunized for this disease, they will be excluded from school for 16 days.”

In all the years…about 10… that my children have been attending school without vaccinations, this is that first time it has affected them. Wow! I’m surprised it has taken this long.

“Okay,” I reply. There was a long pause as I took it all in. I’m pretty sure she thought I either didn’t understand or was going to get upset. Wouldn’t that be nice of me? Sign a paper that my kids are exempt from certain vaccinations and then freak out on the nurse when there’s an outbreak…not a wise course of action, I’d think.

She continues to explain and I interrupt her.  “It’s okay.  This was my choice.  I completely understand.” She seems almost surprised that I’m not going to be upset with her.  Well, it sure isn’t her fault that a child came down with the chicken pox. 

“Could you come and pick him up?”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I get to the school about an hour later and Colin has had to sit in the office waiting for me.  The Vice Principal comes out as we are leaving to tell me that Colin is a great kid. “He’s very engaging. He’s the envy of all the sixth grade!  He didn’t have to get the shot and he gets to go home for 2 weeks. They all wish they were him!” We all had a good chuckle about that.

On the way home Colin is telling me about how his teacher called him out of the lunch room to go to the office.  They explained why he had to go home. He doesn’t want to be home. He loves school.  He hates to miss it.  Crazy kid! Then he starts begging me to call the doctor so that he can get the shot.  Seriously?!?! What kid begs to go to get a shot so he can go back to school? Um, Colin. That’s who. 

I take immunizations very seriously. The health of my children is very important to me, as it is for all parents.  I took some time to seriously think about whether or not to call the doctor. 

I LOVE that I know I have the Holy Ghost to guide me.  He can help me know if something IS or IS NOT right for my family.  As I think about this vaccination for Colin I don’t have any negative or hesitant feelings at all.  I feel good about allowing him to have it. 

I call the doctor’s office and they are so nice. They try to get me in that same afternoon.  I chuckle and tell them I’m not able to get in this afternoon but I can come the next day.  Besides, it won’t hurt the kid to miss a little bit of school. I mean really!  It won’t be the end of the world if he misses a day or two.  He’s such a smart cookie that a day off will be good for him.

Wednesday…How does a kid get so bored in just one day at home?  We even went to the doctor’s office in the middle of the day. He had his shot. He’s cleared to return to school tomorrow. He’s already tired of being at home.  He says there’s nothing to do.  Um. Right.  I could find him PLENTY to do!  Haha!

It’s Thursday morning. I drive him to school.  We get there a few minutes early and the nurse hasn’t arrived yet.  We stand in the office waiting.  It’s like Colin is a returning celebrity.  Everyone talks to him.  They call him by name. The Vice Principal comes in and sees him.  “You’re back! Way to go Colin!”

“Yep, he begged me to get the shot.”

“You’re my new favorite student, Colin!”

Seriously. This kid doesn’t need any more boost to his ego.  It’s big enough already. Haha!

Then the Principal walks by.  “Colin!  Welcome back!  I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”

Colin is just EATING this all up!  He loves the attention! “Wow, Colin. Everyone knows you by name,” I commented to him.

He shrugged and said, “Yeah, I do morning announcements a lot.” Well that’s the first I’ve heard of it. 

What a silly kid! He got the personality that simply attracts others. The kids want to be his friend.  The adults all love him.  And yet he’s such a stinker at home. I gotta love him!

Sick...AGAIN?!?!

Bleary-eyed and stumbling, I make my way across the hall to the sound of my daughter yelling my name.  It feels as if I had just fallen asleep. Not quite.  It has been two hours.  Or so the clock said. 

“I’m gonna throw up,” she cries from her top bunk.  I scan the room, half awake, trying to find something to use to catch the vomit that was sure to escape her lips soon. 

I dump the toys out of a cloth bin…thinking it could be washed easily later. My mind is still fuzzy.  I’m not awake.  She threw up.  And I realize this container will not hold its contents for very long. Yeah. Too tired. Scanning again I spot an upturned plastic bucket for Barbies. Yes!  That’ll work.  I set the cloth bin on the floor and hold the plastic bucket up in front of her pale face.  Poor kid.

She’d already been through this once this school year.  Not again!! She’s finished and I grab a baby wipe from the drawer and wipe her mouth. I toss the wipe into the bucket. I’ll take care of that later.  I’m too tired. 

I tell her to climb down and sleep on the bottom bunk so it will be easier to reach the bucket if she’s sick again.  She climbs down easier than I think she will.  She crawls onto the bed. I pull the covers up around her shoulders and tell her to go back to sleep. Sleep is hard when your tummy hurts.  But that’s what she needs.

I trudge quietly and slowly up the stairs with the cloth bin in hand.  I’ll have to take care of this right now or it will be ruined.  I rinse it a couple of times and turn it upside down on the sink to drain.  That’s all I can do for now.  I’ll have to clean it thoroughly later. 

Back into bed I climb and pull the blanket around myself; trying to relax.  Sleep finally comes…only to be interrupted again with the screaming of a little girl.  “MOMMY,” she cries from her bed.

Sick again.  I hold her hair out of the way, while leaning my sleepy head on the top bunk.  She’s finished and I wipe her face again. 

My legs carry me slowly and awkwardly back to bed.

My bed isn’t as comfortable now with my lack of sleep.  I toss and turn before finally going to sleep again.  It doesn’t last.  Her crying reaches my ears again and I pop out of bed.  Quickly…before she gets sick on her blankets…I rush to her side.

She’s getting better at keeping it in the bucket, thankfully.  I wait for her to finish, holding her hair out of the way.   Wipe her face and slide my feet across the floor as I make my way back to bed. My feet know the way better than my brain does right now. 

I want to cry.  I’m so tired.  But I’m too tired to cry.  So I lie back down and curl up on my side.  The warm blanket wraps around my shoulders; bringing some comfort.  I wonder if I will be able to fall asleep again.  And then I realize I slept because I’m waking up again to the sound of Alyssa saying my name.  Not again! 

I hurry to her side.  Hold her hair. Wipe her face. Back to bed. 

I’ve lost all track of time.  I close my eyes and hope for sleep. 

It’s 4:55 and my alarm is going off.  Sigh. The morning begins. While I’m making breakfast for my older boys Alyssa comes up the stairs, bucket in hand, crying.  She doesn’t feel well again.  She asks me to put her hair up and hands me an elastic. I pull her hair up quickly and she sits on the dining room floor…holding the bucket.  Being sick is just CRAPTASTIC!

I usually sleep for 45 minutes after the older kids go to seminary, but today there is no sleep.  Every few minutes Alyssa calls my name to tell me she doesn’t feel well.  Her tummy hurts. 

I’m so half-awake today and wishing for a nap, but now Cassie is awake and Alyssa is up too.  Sometimes there’s no rest for the weary.  I’m thankful that Todd is off tonight.  That means I can crash later and he’ll help.  This too shall pass…

Granola bars...

It’s Saturday morning. There is a pile of granola bar wrappers spilling over the top of the trash can.  Seriously!  I just bought groceries on Tuesday… for the month.  The two large boxes of granola bars need to last for 4 weeks.  It’s been 4 days and the first box is EMPTY! 60 Granola bars…gone.

The rule in our house is that you must ask first before you eat food.  Period.  No one asked.  I start up the stairs…trying not to stomp; anger filling my footsteps with purpose.  I enter the dining room and the boys know I’m not happy.  Their eyes widen.  WATCH OUT!

I call all four boys to stand in front of me.  Max…who has autism and doesn’t do well with confrontation…tries to walk away. “NO! Max! You come stand right here.” I point to the spot on the floor where he should stand.  He crosses his arms and slides his feet across the floor; looking almost like a penguin. He scowls at me. He stops at his spot.

My “Grammie finger” comes out and starts wagging at them.  Yep, Grammie, my Dad’s mother, used to wag her finger at us when we were in trouble too. I come by it naturally…

“Who ate all the granola bars? Colin? Alex? Max?” I already knew Johnny hadn’t. He doesn’t like them. No one answered. “I JUST bought those on Tuesday! Those two boxes were supposed to last for the entire month.”

“So…who ate them?” Colin and Alex know they’re caught.  They KNOW I know.  And they know I know they know. Hands are clasped behind their backs. Their heads are down. They keep glancing at each other.  “Why didn’t you ask first? You all KNOW the rule! You have to ask first.  That way we can make sure the food lasts for the entire month.”

“Alex was eating them so I thought it was okay,” Colin sheepishly said.

“So, if Alex is doing it, then it’s ok?” I asked.

“Um…no…but…” Colin stammered.

“Alex. Why didn’t you ask first?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied…knowing how much I dislike that answer.

“Max was eating them too,” one of them complained.

Max has already slipped through the door to go downstairs. “MAX! Come up here.”

“WHAT,” he growls!

“You come stand right here.”  He walks passed me.  “No! Right here.” He comes as close as he can. He wants to hurt me, but he knows that he better not. “No. Back up. Stand right there. Where you can’t touch me.” He stands in his spot for a second and then tries to walk away.

“Max! No! You stand right there.  And do not move until I tell you to.”

“Did you eat the granola bars?”

“NO!”

“Max. I already have 2 witnesses. Be honest with me. Tell the truth. Did you eat the granola bars?” He moves from his designated spot. He walks toward the backside of the table. “Max. Stay here.”

“I didn’t eat them!” He tries to walk away again. He doesn’t want me to see his face. He tries to pretend to cry because I don’t believe him.  It’s fake; so fake.

“Max, stop faking.  I know you’re lying to me. You’ll be in more trouble for lying. It’s not okay to lie.”

“I’m not lying!!” He yells this while smirking and still trying to fake cry.

“Max. I know you’re not telling me the truth. You’ll be in less trouble if you tell me the truth.”

When he eats anything with gluten or dairy he has to take a digestive enzyme. “Did you take an enzyme when you ate the granola bars?”

He’s too smart.  He won’t answer the question. “I DIDN’T eat the granola bars!” He growls.

“Max, you’re not answering the question.  Did you eat an enzyme before eating a granola bar?”

He starts covering his mouth with his hand.  He’s caught but he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“I DIDN’T eat the granola bars!” I can see he’s starting to crack.

“Max. Tell the truth. Did you take an enzyme when you ate the granola bars?”

Still covering his mouth, he replies through his fingers, “no”.

“Take your hand off from your mouth and answer me correctly.”

“I ate the granola bars okay!”

“Okay. Did you have an enzyme with them?”

“No.”

“Do you know that the granola bars have both gluten and dairy in them?”

“Uh…they do?”

“Yes they do. How did your stomach feel after you ate them?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. From now on, the rule is that you must ask me first before you eat any food. Got it?”

“Got it.”

The battle is over.  Being a mom takes SKILLS! Haha! The rule has been established, YET again.  The kids are reminded that mom means BUSINESS.  It’s GREAT to be a parent and have to create order in the face of complete chaos! I LOVE CHAOS! Not really. I am reminded that kids constantly need reminders…through adulthood. Sigh!!  That’s one of the things I chose to do when I decided to become a parent.  I just don’t think that I realized what it would be like at the time. 

                                                                                                                                        

Just what I wanted to do today...

I’m not nervous…I’m not nervous…I’m not nervous!  Sigh! Yes I am! Breathe! Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale.  I’ll be okay.  I try to calm my nerves as I drive to the hospital for my appointment. 

I turned 40 just a week ago. I find it rather strange, odd and just a bit humorous.  I don’t FEEL 40. I mean…what EXACTLY does 40 feel like anyway? I feel like me.  Maybe a wiser, better version of me. But ultimately I’m me. 

I ALMOST slipped under the radar too!  Almost got out of it for another year. The nurse, at my initial appointment, made a comment about my not being 40 yet so I had another year. Ha! I should have left that alone.  Should have let her think what she wanted to. BUT NO!  I just HAD to correct her.  I replied, “I turn 40 on Friday.” DUH! Can I suck that back in? Take it back?!?! Gah!  WHY do I have to be so stinking honest?  Aagh! Curse that good side of me!  Haha! 

Fast forward…one week after my birthday… and I’m on my way to my first mammogram.  Yep. If nothing else makes me feel old, this just might. 

The receptionist is pleasant and tells me to come on in and go to the end of the hall and have a seat. So I do. As I’m walking in I notice an older lady getting called into the room.  She’s wearing a pink hospital gown on top and her pants on bottom.  I sit down. I want to keep myself busy but the TV in the waiting room is showing the weather. Why couldn’t they play something interesting? Maybe a light hearted comedy? Or a silly sitcom. Something to get my mind off the fact that I’ll be half dressed while a perfect stranger performs my mammogram. 

Yes, I know.  She’s a trained professional. And THAT’s supposed to make me feel any better about it? Not quite!

I stuff those thoughts back down. I’m okay. I can do this.

My name is called.  I glance up. I grab my things and stand. She’s an older lady…maybe in her 70’s. She asks me if this is my first time. Um yeah! Do I LOOK old enough to have had one of these before? Never mind! I won’t be rude.  That’s not who I am. “Yes,” I reply politely.

She directs me to the changing room and explains that if I have any deodorant on it needs to be wiped off and provides the cleansing wipes for me. Oh yes!  As If I’m not sweating enough already? Now I have to wipe off any protection I had.  Oh crap! I think I’m sweating more…

She tells me to remove all clothing from the waist up and put on the gown; opening in the front. Sigh. I nod my head. My replies are short. I don’t really want to be here. But I know I need to be.

You’d think I’d be completely fine with this after having been poked and prodded with 6 pregnancies.  But for some reason it’s different.  Uncomfortable.

Breathe…

Once I’m changed I go out and she’s waiting for me.  She tells me that she’ll explain everything she is doing so that I understand.  We walk into the room where the mammogram machine stands. She directs me to untie the gown. I do as I’m told. I try to be calm. Try to breathe. It’s impossible to carry on any small talk. My face is firm. I only speak when spoken to. I just don’t know what to say. Nothing I say can reduce the uncomfortable-ness I’m feeling. So I stay quiet. And I sweat…

She proceeds and explains exactly how I should stand. Relax my shoulders. Turn my head. Otherwise I’d hit my face on the machine. THAT one I could figure out all on my own! She positions me so the machine can get a good picture. I’m sweating. Now…without deodorant. That’s embarrassing. She steps back to her computer and takes the image. “Doing okay?” she asks. “Yep,” I say. Clicking and other noises commence. I breathe. I try to relax.

Thankfully it’s not painful. Just uncomfortable; being half dressed.

She takes 6 images; 3 on each side. In between images I pull the gown around me as much as I can. Pride has left me and I feel small.

She never made me feel uncomfortable. She was very professional. She did her job. She was quick and gentle.

I just want to get my clothes back on.

Finally dressed I have more composure. My face softens a little.

On my way out I stop to see a friend who works in the hospital. I can breathe again.  I can relax. I can smile. We laugh about my being old now.  She’ll be 40 soon too. 

I survived. It wasn’t that bad. Just…uncomfortable. Sometimes doing things that need to be done to keep ourselves healthy is…JUST CRAPTASTIC…

What is THAT!

“Oh no! The trash leaked on Cassie!” I heard Norissa say from the table.  My face crinkled in question. “What?” I asked as I spun around to look.  My eye brows furrowed and my nose wrinkled. 

What the heck is THAT?!  Cassie sat on the floor covered in what MUST have come pouring out of the trash bag as Johnny took the trash out to the can.  I ran for the stairs to stop Johnny, “Johnny!  Stop!  There’s a whole in the bag!” But there was nothing else on the floor or down the stairs…I realized.  Weird! 

“There’s no hole in the bag, Mom,” he yelled back.  What!!

Cassie continued to scream as she sat in the pile of…sludge…dripping down her legs and off her hands.  I ran to her side and took a closer look.  OH MY GOSH! It smelled like fish.  No joke.  At first it looked like meat chunks that smelled fishy.  Ugh. Yuck.  SO G. R. O. S. S!

Cassie’s screaming got louder and more intense.  She wasn’t hurt.  Then what was her problem?  Oh yeah.  She’s covered in this…sniff…sniff…OH CRAP…it’s dog vomit…from my parent’s dog.  Light bulb! Hahaha!  No wonder it’s such a big pile! Still she sat screaming. Her little leggings were covered from bum to feet with puke.

I grabbed paper towels to clean up the pile on the floor.

Somewhere in the short minutes between me asking Johnny to take out the trash and him taking the bag down the stairs the dog got sick; a nice huge warm pile. No one heard it!  So he’s a silent vomit-er? Apparently Cassie came running into the kitchen and slipped on said grossness…covering herself in goo.  EWWW!  I was having a hard time not laughing…

She was still screaming…and getting louder all the time.  I stood her up and tried to take her clothing off but she kept screaming and wiggling.  I tried to speak calmly to her but she couldn’t hear me over her wailing.  I raised my voice and asked her to stay still so I could get her clean.  She wasn’t having ANY of that! REALLY?!?! Apparently she couldn’t hear me through the vomit covering her skin. I guess it was grossing her out too much. The more she moved, the more she smeared goo on the floor.

Trying to prevent more smear-age…I finally hollered to Johnny to hold onto Cassie. And that’s when I realized she continued to freak out because it was still on her hands.  Gag! Seriously! I quickly wiped her hands and stripped her down.  But she continued to wail. When will the screaming stop?? I forgot to breathe. I was trying not to laugh…through the screaming…

Johnny carried her screaming, flailing little body into the bathroom and set her into the tub. Norissa stood by keeping an eye on the upset little wiggler in the tub. I can’t even remember when the screaming stopped because I was still trying to clean up the mess on the floor.  I kept finding more splatters... It was awesome!

AT LAST…all clean…I ran the bathwater and scrubbed Cassie clean.  I guess my dad called and asked what we were up to. Haha!  Funny! My sister told him the story. He replied, "I bet you wish I had called 5 minutes ago!" Bahahaha…perfect timing!

This whole time I was supposed to be working on dinner. The chicken was finally thawed. And it was already 5:00pm.  Sigh! I guess Hawaiian Haystacks would have to wait until tomorrow.  Left overs it would be!  Isn’t it just craptastic!!!

Oh yeah…breath…inhale…exhale…giggle, giggle. What a circus!

And this is how we start the day...

“I WANT another piece of toast!!! GRRRR!” Yep, that’s exactly how I wanted to start my day today.  It was going so smoothly.  And then this…this…crazy maniacal look takes over my once sweet little girl.  She had already scarfed down a bowl of cereal and three slices of toast.  Um, yeah…growth spurt maybe.  I suggested that she have a string cheese or a banana.  Oh My Gosh!  What was I thinking? Seriously!  How DARE I suggest she eat something other than carbohydrates for breakfast.  My WORD!

She proceeded to kick her feet and scream at me while I told her it was time to do her hair.  The entire time I’m telling myself to take deep breaths and reminding myself that I don’t really want to hurt her right now.  Really I don’t. When really all I want to do is make the screaming stop!  Logically I know that is not the way I should handle this.  I want to throw a huge fit too!  I bet that would look cute!  Mental image successfully created. Haha!

I’m ready to do her hair and she is “hiding” at the top of the stairs.  She KNOWS this frustrates me and yet she LOVES to do it.  Seriously…I think having children could be used as a form of torture…okay, not quite, but at some moments it feels just a WEE bit torturous.  I took a deep breath, walked to the bottom of the stairs and counted backwards “5….4….3…2…1…0.” She didn’t move.  I think she just might think I’m blind.  Oh yeah! I can SEE her laying on the floor.  Sigh!  “I’ve already counted.  Do you WANT to lose snuggle time?” She pops up and growls/yells, “I was COMING!”

Really! Because I’m pretty sure you were just lying there. I think I would have seen movement…just maybe…if you were actually coming down the stairs already!  Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“It’s time to do your hair.  Sit at the table,” I tried to say calmly as she proceeded to stomp past the table.  “Sit! NOW,” my voice rose. This is so fun.  Sometimes I dream of running away to a deserted island far away.  Yes!  Can you imagine all the blissful silence?  Oh I CAN! Silence is “Golden”! Haha! 

She angrily sat on the edge of the seat and huffed, shoulders slumped.  “Please sit correctly.” My voice was stern and held an edge of frustration in it.  Desperately I tried to hold back the anger that was growing inside of me.  “You better cover your face so I can spray your hair,” I said. She whined and slapped her leg when the towel that was around her shoulders fell down her back and she couldn’t reach it.  I put the towel back onto her shoulder and she grabbed it angrily and pulled it up across her eyes.  She hates having the water in her eyes.  I sprayed her hair and told her I was done with the water.  She dropped the towel…still angry. 

Sometimes I think that if I could just reason with her she would calm down.  She would see that she is the one who is in control of her emotions.  She would see that only SHE can make her choices.  But reasoning with her isn’t working.  “LOOK AT ME!” I raised my voice again.  Crap.  I turned her chin so she HAD to look me in the eyes.  Her glaring eyes only made contact with mine for a second before she ripped her face out of my hand and looked away.  I made threats without knowing how I could possibly keep them. Yep, this is great! I do this too often.

There is a war that goes on inside of me; one that protects my children from my anger. It’s a darn good thing too because moments like these make me think things I should never think; things I never thought in a million years I would EVER think.  One side makes me want to cause harm…in the moment.  It’s a fleeting thought.  The other side, the more rational side, stops my hand from flying…or worse. Thankfully I push the negative thought aside with a reminder to breathe.  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

  

I finally finish her hair and she jumps down from the chair and stomps all the way to the bathroom…hair flying as she marches to her angry beat.  My voice is calmer again. Barely. “Get out your toothbrush and toothpaste.”

“I’m DOING it,” she yelled at the bathroom mirror.  Her eye brows furrowed and her lips puckered.  Her eyes would throw daggers at me if they could. I can feel her anger.  I make sure she begins brushing before I leave the room and go to change my clothes.  I say a silent prayer pleading for help.  Calming breaths enter my lungs. I exhale the negativity, pushing it away from me.  Inhale the positive. Exhale the negative. Inhale. Exhale. I’m more relaxed as I ascend the stairs again.  A thought comes to my mind.  Play “Let It Go” for her.  But she doesn’t deserve it. She’s already lost privileges.  Sigh.  Just play the song. 

She’s in the living room giggling.  What!  Who flipped the switch?  How does she do it? A few minutes ago she was madder than a hornet. Now she’s happy as a clam.  Do de do de do.  Te he te he! Aaagh!

Apparently the poor mood disappeared while I was downstairs.  I start playing the song on my phone.  She nicely asks me if she can take her toys to school in her backpack.  While we are both calm it’s the perfect time to talk to her about how it makes me feel when she acts the way she’s been acting all morning.  It’s a good talk.  Finally!  She decides that a behavior calendar with stickers could help remind her to make good choices.  We hug.

Inhale the good. Exhale the bad. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Peaceful. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward.  Smile. This won’t last forever.

Yep...that's just GREAT!

Just CRAPTASTIC!! I bored MYSELF!  I KNOW it's bad when I read my own work and I'm about to fall asleep. Oh! My! Gosh!!  Can I really expect my husband, whom I'm reading it to, or anyone else for that matter, to seriously enjoy this if I'm not? Um NO!

I sat there, at the table, reading my latest blog post to my oh so sweet husband. He listened kindly as I BORED THE CRAP OUT OF BOTH OF US!  What am I doing? I've been writing because I feel like I should, not because I enjoy it.  Duh! And I'm efficiently ruining my blog!

I LOVE to write!  But when I'm not even enjoying my own work I need a change.

Oh yeah. Right here. Right now. The start of a brand new blog.  A real blog about real things that REALLY happen.  The nitty gritty of life.  The ugly truth of the day to day.  The moments when I feel like I'm going to rip my hair out of my head...piece by piece...

That's right.  It'll be Just Craptastic!

Drawing his idea of Craptastic...

A pile of crap...hehehe...