This year, for younger children, the “in” gift was the leapfrog. The leapfrog is a small mini-computer system that helps kids learn. What? This is the “IN” gift? Something that helps a child learn? Yep. It makes learning fun, it looks like the smartphones, tablets and computers the big kids and adults have and it has fun “games” for little ones. It was SO COOL this year. Parents were scrambling for these things.

I’m lucky enough that my son, AJ, has just turned 11 and I don’t feel the need to hit up the cool kid stuff. Frankly, I never have. I always assumed he’d be happy getting anything and he has always met that expectation. This year, he’s mentioned wanting plenty of things, but over the summer, I added a kindle to his wishlist knowing that he dislikes reading. He’d commented on my kindle, one of the 2nd generation ones I’d bought 3 years ago, and mentioned that he wished he had something cool like that on which to read his books. I mentioned that I’d consider buying him the kindle if he’d ever read books, considering I was begging him to read.

When October hit, it was AR season. In his school, and other public schools around the country, kids have Advanced Reader goals to hit and if they get points they get rewards. AJ was struggling to hit his minimum. He complained to me that, “I’m not like you and Daddy. I hate to read. It’s not fun for me. I don’t get why you guys like it.”

When November rolled around, I’d already decided that I was buying him the kindle mainly because he didn’t have much else on his list. If he didn’t like it, I’d give it to Leon, who’d waffled back and forth about wanting one. I’d gotten some Best Buy rewards and it had dropped my kindle price to around $50. It was a steal at that price and AJ could at least try a couple books on it.

When Christmas morning rolled around, AJ opened it up and seemed excited enough. He couldn’t wait to try out some books on it because it was shiny, it was new, and it was something that mommy had that he wanted and he never got shiny, new, technological TOYS. He seemed a little disappointed that his NeeNee, his Oma and I got him so much money on Amazon gift cards specifically for books for his kindle, but grudgingly decided he’d give it a try.

Since then, he’s read no less than 12, 300+ page books on his kindle with 4 of those being read in the last week. Almost daily he is requesting that I search for new books for him on Amazon and I mentioned to him today that he is almost out of his hefty Christmas and birthday amazon.com card stash for books. He laughed and said, “I can’t help it, Mama, I loooooooove reading. It’s so much fun!”

This kindle, it could be a game changer for kids that don’t like to read. As I write this, AJ is laying on the couch sick as can be, but he’s also calm and relaxed reading his Kindle. He used to tell me he couldn’t read more than an hour a day and now, some days, he reads up to 4 or 5 hours. His main issue with reading is that he is now reading on an 8th or 9th grade level in the 5th grade and most of the books he is reading don’t fall into his AR category so he doesn’t get points for reading them. He reads them anyway. He likes them. He likes to read. He loves to read. I love that he loves to read. Thanks, kindle. Thanks, amazon.

*note: Amazon/Kindle didn’t pay me to write this. They don’t know I’ve written this. This came totally from my heart.

Late in November, we’d gotten word that AJ had done something that indicated immaturity on his part as well as bad decision-making. We struggled with how to handle the situation and felt overwhelmed as parents. In my line of work, it can be difficult to admit that you struggle with problems too, but the main thing is that it is always easier to be more objective and to help parse through someone else’s issues than your own. After careful reflection and many discussions, it was decided that AJ needed to spend time focusing on growth and development rather than facing punishments that were already proving ineffective for him such as grounding and taking away privileges. Besides those things, we would need to add some things that he disliked doing, beyond chores, that would encourage him to focus on bettering himself as a person and, hopefully, encourage him to focus on being his best self.

As such, for the last 3 weeks, AJ has not been allowed to watch tv, play video games or play with his friends outside of school. I understand that many would oppose the last one because kids don’t get enough time to play at school and they’ve been sitting in school all day. AJ is absolutely allowed to play by himself in our front or backyard as long as he likes. What we have removed is his opportunity to socialize in the hopes that he might spend that time learning about himself or just learn that silence is ok. He has not spent time on this principle in his entire life. He is allowed 30 minutes of computer time a night for homework or to send emails to family or to decompress. If he is too busy with other things to get it, he just misses it. Period.

Beyond removing those things, AJ has added the following things to his routine: increased amounts of reading time, exercising at the gym with his daddy most every day of the week, eating healthfully almost all of the time and going to bed almost an hour earlier than he was. These were not things AJ had ever embraced and his grades were faltering, he was struggling with his focus and he was not an energetic thoughtful child as he’d been most of his life.

When AJ learned of these changes, as most kids would, we became the bad mom and dad and how could we do this to him? He was angry with us. He was angry with himself.

What has happened 3 weeks later has been a wonderful change. Because of his extra reading time, in the last 3 weeks he has increased his AR goal in reading by 300 percent and has achieved scores of 100% on every test. His teachers are floored by this. When he comes home, he does chores without complaint. He likes to go to the library to get new books because reading is really the only thing he CAN do besides spend time with the dogs. He still complains about the gym and eating, but he’s working harder at both of them and starting to see results. And the going to bed early? He’s doing it on his own. He’ll take his shower and then tell us that he’s just going to go to bed early because he’s tired. Sometimes he’ll do this 30 minutes before his new bedtime.

What I have learned from this is that AJ only thinks he misses these changes. He is a more reflective child and the little things that he used to have all of the time mean more to him when he can have them. He is allowed 30 minutes of video games tonight for his achievement in AR. He didn’t demand it immediately as he would have done a month ago. Instead, he went upstairs to read until the television is free. In fact, he may even forget about it today.

I may leave this new policy open ended. When we decided on it, that was the plan. We were going to see how long it took to see maturity taking place or some sign of reflection or better decision making. I don’t expect too much from my 10-year old. I expect proper development, manners and respect. I love him desperately, but I am raising someone who will be a solid man when it comes time for that and I refuse to coddle him when I know he can do better.

And after 3 weeks, he’s showing progress. Extreme progress. And he’s happier for it. So where do I go from here? I think we are content with how things are. Am I still the bad mom? I don’t honestly know. Am I a good parent? I think so. He’s happy. He’s healthy. And he’s growing both mentally and physically. I can’t ask for more than that.

This is his “Vegetable Project….”

In his defense, I think that’s a carrot holding a gun with a baby corn shooting like a rocket…at least I hope that’s what it is… We’ve already discussed AJ’s issues with art. Bless his heart…he got his art gene from me…

Mr. Blueshelled was not even close to considering lugging the tree, fake or real, up the stairs to the bonus room where his office is to create space for a tree. AJ attempted to talk him into it for days until both Mr. Blueshelled and I were over it. Enough. He gets a tree when he goes to see his NeeNee. We understand that we are ruining his childhood and we are the worst parents in the world. We get that although he has a lovely house and that part of the reason we can’t have a tree is that he has so many places to sit and so many bookshelves filled with knowledge for him to consume, he would rather have a tree with lights that will make Mommy say nasty things when one goes out and a whole section of them looks like they are discouraged with being lights.

We get it.

So, I went to Walgreens the other day. I say this as if going to Walgreens is a rare occasion. What I should say is that I live at Walgreens and I come home sometimes. So, I was at Walgreens and we were checking out when I saw the most beautiful tree. I just had to get it for AJ. When he saw it, he was confused as, because we are awful parents, he’d never seen the cartoon.

I bought him the tree. I brought him home so he could watch the cartoon. And now he thinks he has the best tree ever and his Christmas is no longer ruined.

And I’m a good parent again.

Whew. I was worried for a minute.

Little league ended a couple of weeks ago, but I have been remiss in getting my thoughts on this down. Little league is no different than any other setting for children to display beautiful acts of compassion for others. One child on AJ’s team was lovingly nicknamed “Roly Poly.” Roly Poly has such heart when he plays that when a ball comes near him he automatically dives and rolls for it. Roly Poly is a vivacious, thoughtful child who is a strong ballplayer and a sweet child. AJ, particularly, enjoys playing ball with him. The first game we had in October showed Roly Poly in some shockingly pink socks as well as a hot pink sweatband on his arm that designated it was breast cancer awareness month. Roly Poly is 10. He continued to wear hot pink the rest of the month, though no one else on his team or on the league did.

My son has his moments as well. He frequently plays catcher and can be particularly empathetic to those poor kids that strike out. I’ve noticed, repeatedly, that when someone strikes out on our team or the other, that AJ will pat them on the helmet and say, “Nice try, buddy.” It’s not just good sportsmanship. It’s not that he’s not competitive. It’s that he understands that feeling and it’s not a good one and he doesn’t want that other kid to feel bad or alone.

When a child goes down on the field with an injury, the kids immediately take a knee and I notice that many of them are fixated on how they can help the child who is hurt. AJ, as a catcher, is generally in the mix of this as many of those accidents occur near home plate. I see his little brow furrow, and him run to the child as the coaches surround them and he tries to help in any way he can. I see kids pat each other on the back after a great play, console each other after a bad game and, for those that have a bad home life, spend time talking to their team mates and trying to forget life for a while.

Yes, children are compassionate and I know that we want to know when all of that begins, but I’m not sure it matters. What matters to me is that it exists and that it is beautiful.

Every mother suffers from “the grass is always greener” syndrome. Those of us that went back to work or school eventually come to realize that we wish with all of our hearts we’d stayed home with our kids. Those of us that were stay at home moms have days we wish with all of our hearts we could just get out of the house for a little while. I was the work and school mom and during this time period emotions flooded me in that I didn’t do enough “stuff” with my kid. He’d invited me to his school for events repeatedly and frequently I didn’t go. Sure it was sometimes because I had things that had to be done, but sometimes it was because I was just tired and felt like I needed time to myself.

I can’t get that time back and it was pervasive and overwhelming to me. The week before he went back to school this year it pierced my heart so hard that I began to cling to him and struggle with the idea that my son was going to grow and change and, with that, so would our relationship. The little boy in him is already almost gone and a tween is taking his place. I combed the internet for other mothers that felt this way and mainly hit articles that talked about the empty nest syndrome and mothers feeling this way right before pre-school and right before college. Rarely did I see a mother that was hitting it around the time I was and it concerned me.

It is now 3-weeks into his school routine and I’m finally starting to be ok with our change of events. I went back into my journal and realized that every single year of school I struggled with him going back, just not to the extent that I struggled this year. He is adjusting and so am I, mainly with his support and love. He’s still a 10-year old. A tall 10-year old with a lot of opinions who I feel is growing too quickly, but he’s a 10-year old boy who loves his mother desperately and who understands that mothers sometimes have trouble with their kids growing up. Thank goodness for empathy and compassion in children.

As we get back into school and baseball and life moves forward, I resolve to do better. I resolve to be as involved in A.J.’s life as he’ll allow as well as striving to continue with healthy boundaries between us. I strive to finish my education and create a healthy balance with my home-life and try to be more understanding with myself and others. I strive to allow him to grow and learn and be the best man he can be…because that’s my job…as his mom.

Lately, for at least two hours a day, I have studied for a test that is coming up next weekend. So, instead of letting him do other things, I asked AJ to come to the library with me and read a book that he has enjoyed in recent weeks. Generally, this would provoke whining and upset, but because of the melancholic timbre of the summer this very peculiar year, he has been delighted to sit in the cool, quiet alcove of the well-lit library on their comfortable leather couches and soak in the atmosphere of the library. When he heard we would not be going yesterday, because it was Saturday and they’d be closing early, he was disappointed that he would not finish his book in the calm demeanor he’d become accustomed.

I have not lavishly spoiled him to make up for the loss of a summer of fun. AJ isn’t entitled to a summer of fun just for being a kid. There are parents that will disagree with me on that statement, but the truth of the matter is that no one is entitled to anything other than safety, love, a full belly and a warm/cool place to sleep. I give my child all of those things, lots of attention and affection, plenty of cool gadgets and he does get to do fun things, but he doesn’t go on lavish vacations and we don’t spend a lot of money making sure every single day overstimulates him to the point where I no longer like who he is as a person. When I meet a parent who does, I often find it difficult to be friendly with both the parent and the child because of the expectations they have as to how people will treat them; Rather, how they feel they are entitled to be treated.

Besides studying yesterday, I planned a small outing to the Nashville Farmer’s Market. I’d never been and AJ and I had gone to the adorable one near our house the other day. He’d studied a pattypan squash and liked it because it looked like a UFO. He’d picked up several other vegetables that I could not identify, to his amusement and to my dismay. I thought that, perhaps, a trip to the market where he could look to his heart’s delight and I could learn about the vegetables might be fun for both of us. They also had a flea market and AJ loves to look at trinkets. Garage sales may be his favorite events on earth.

When we got there, I handed AJ the $6 he’d earned by doing chores every day this week and told him that he could spend it, but carefully and not on junk. Immediately, he focused on a large adults watch with a disastrous amount of bling and a large money sign on it. It was a glowing green color and also came with a large $$ necklace. I bit my lip and hoped that it would be too expensive. Despite my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was and pulled him away from the bling ensemble. As we continued to walk around, he found another necklace he desperately wanted. It was hematite, shiny, and looked like it had a shark’s tooth attached to it. It was gaudy and awful and I knew he wanted it more than anything. Again, against my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was.

My inability to understand his want of shiny, blingy jewelry was too much. His jaw set, he marched ahead of me to the food market and the day was ruined. The shark necklace might have been $2. We continued to argue about it for the next hour. As I picked up tomatoes, peaches, cucumbers and oranges, I thought to myself and wondered if the argument was truly worth it. The money was his and while I knew he’d be happy when he’d saved enough to buy a larger toy, AJ is 10 years old. He wants immediate gratification despite the costs. Even though I’d explained that I did what I thought was best, was it worth the cost? Was the loss of that necklace worth the upset between us and the upset of our day together? The event was planned to offset some of the negativity of the summer. Surely, if he wanted a $2 necklace that he was going to buy with his own money, it wasn’t worth this.

I made a mistake. Adults do it. We decide we know what’s best and we hold firm to in the idea of good parenting practices. Usually, in this vein, we are correct in what we are doing and it is better for our children. However, “don’t sweat the small stuff” is a cliche for a reason, as are all cliches. In this case, my not giving in hurt AJ’s decision-making process and our camaraderie for the day. In the big scheme of things, was that necklace important? To me, it wasn’t. To him, it was. To us, it was. Giving in would have made the difference in how he felt about our time together. We had a large discussion about how material things should not affect our time together and how arguments do. Ultimately, I think we both learned a lot.

Next time, I’ll do better. A small thing is a small thing and day-ruining arguments are best saved for the things that really matter.

Often, he’d walk up to me and proffer the flowers for his “amazing, wonderful mama,” but lately the flowers had been for our turtle, Petey. He’d recently discovered that flowers were a delicacy for Petey and the more fragrant the flower the more Petey would tear into it with relish. Petey tended towards a grumpy nature and would rarely open his eyes for anything more than what appeared to be a piratey “Argh” when he was prodded, so to see him come out of his shell, literally, to eat that flower with gusto was a sight for AJ to behold. We’d stand around Petey’s pen and watch him eat and imagine that the flowers put him in a better mood.

Last night, though, I’d been at my friend Bryan’s house until late. When I came home, I immediately checked in on Petey, as I do frequently throughout the day. I noticed that he was splayed in a fashion that was unnatural to him and picked him up to check on him. When he didn’t open his eyes to glare at me, it occurred to me that something was terribly wrong. His little limbs didn’t move and prodding him didn’t change his posture. Petey was gone.

Lately he’d been lethargic and I’d attributed it to the changing seasons. I’d taken him outside a couple of days earlier for some sunshine and even that time in the sun and shade hadn’t perked him up. His shell had become flimsy and, after looking at some information online, it became apparent to me that he’d had a disease that we hadn’t caught. Because AJ was sleeping, and Petey couldn’t stay in the cage like that, he was laid to rest in the creek behind the house. I didn’t want AJ to wake up without his turtle and not know why, so I woke him up and gently told him the news. He checked on Petey often and had I not told him, he would have been startled to not find him.

He was confused, but I thought he understood what I was telling him. I was wrong.

Oh, my sweet boy. My sensitive child.

When he took Sophie for a walk this afternoon and brought home that pink flower with the biggest grin he could muster, I never once considered Petey. He walked up to the fireplace mantle, where we kept Petey’s cage, looked at me and arched his eyebrow slightly.

“Mom, where did you put Petey?”

Oh no.

I explained to him that I’d told him last night that Petey had passed away. The most terrible look crossed his face and I will not forget his words. “But, what will I do with this flower now? I brought it home for him to eat. He loves flowers.”

I was at a loss, but told him to put it in a bowl and put it on Petey’s spot on the mantle. He did and silently went to the couch where he looked at it for a moment and his face crumbled. He was upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye so we went down to the creek and he placed the flower in it and said his goodbyes. He’s understandably confused about why turtles have to die and what happens to turtles when they die and whether or not he will see his turtle friend again.

Ultimately, I think the main question we face when we lose someone we love is did we love them enough? Did they feel our love? Did they know what they meant to us? In this case, did this turtle know he was a beloved turtle to a 10-year old boy who loved his grumpy little face enough to face punishment for stealing the neighbors flowers on a regular basis so that turtle could have a delicious treat? Because, after all, we make sacrifices for those we love. Make no mistake, that turtle was loved. But did he know it?

It may seem a little ridiculous to wonder if a turtle felt loved or not, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous to me nor does it feel ridiculous to AJ. Everyday, Petey was part of our day and he made our lives better. Many people I know are grieving right now and I see the questions in their face as to whether or not the person or thing they are grieving felt their love or knew what was given for that relationship.

We all want to feel loved. I wonder if any of us know the true extent of how much we really are adored? If this turtle was enough to break an adult and a child, how much more so are we to those around us?

RIP little one

Sometimes adults don’t want to be adults and sometimes they don’t want to teach the teachable moments simply because they can be, well, rather exhausting. There comes a moment when the sweet little baby turns into a question machine and it is “Why?” all the time. I thrive on critical thinking, but this isn’t it. This is critical asking and critical response to my answers and when I say critical response I mean it’s often answered with, “Well that’s a stupid reason for something being that way” to which I have no clever response because it often IS a stupid reason for something being that way but I’m put off enough not to agree because I just took the time to explain WHY something is the way it is.

Just typing that caused me to wrinkle my nose and for my head to throb slightly.

So, you can see why there might be times that, when something is and explaining it is going to be a drawn out process, adults might play dead or hide. Or…in some crafty cases, play dumb. You know who you are, oh cleverest of us all. You pretend you don’t know when, in reality, you do know you just keep your mouth shut because you’re smarter than the rest of us. You clever beasties, you.

This brings me to today’s geography homework. Oh woe to me with geography homework. Latitudes and longitudes and meridians, oh my! I don’t know any of this. More correctly, I learned it well enough to take a test in the 4th grade and promptly forgot it to add such things such as America’s Funniest Home Video’s and Full House to my brain.

Today’s homework went like this:

AJ: “What is this?” (he points to Africa)
Me: “That’s Africa.”
AJ: “No, that’s south america.”
Me: (pointing to each) “NO, There’s america, there’s south america, there’s africa.”
AJ: “Why is south america there?”
Me: … (very quietly ignoring it and almost humming and rocking)

See? I could have explained the theory about how everything was joined and the plates moved or any of the various geographical theories, right? Instead, I was vewwy, vewwy quiet. I even looked the other direction intently, as if I had something that must be accomplished right at the front door. AJ, thankfully, ignored me right back and formed his own idea of why South America is south of North America. When I saw he went back to his homework, I let out a loud sigh and went back to what I was doing.

I was clever today. I lost the teachable moment, but saved a lot in sanity. I’m going to give myself this one.

Today was one such day.  AJ came home after a terrible day at school.  His name was placed on the board for reasons that he felt were extreme and injudicious and he was missing me very much.  It just added insult to injury and he was grateful to be home.  I was grateful to have him home.  Seeing that little face is often my favorite part of the day, so my mood was brightened and I decided that he and I were going to have a better afternoon.

As he does most days, he walked into the kitchen to grab a snack.  He came back to the living room and, with a large grin, told me that he wished he had a lot of money.  This isn’t a new wish, nor is it an individualized wish.  Most of us would prefer more money than we have and I waited patiently for him to explain why he wanted more money.

“If I had more money, I could buy all the whipped cream I wanted! Yo plait is so tasty!”

Whaaaaaaaaaaat?  I waited to see if these were mutually exclusive, but it occurred to me that my son thinks whipped cream and yogurt are the same thing.

No, no, no.  This can’t be.  The same kid that knows the difference between a mocha, cappuccino and a frappe, of which I still have no idea what makes them different, can’t tell the difference between whipped cream and yogurt?

All I can say is Yo plait must be doing something right if yogurt tastes that good.  Or someone is switching labels on the stuff I’m buying him.

My son told me today that I am offensive because I am insensitive to kids whose mom’s don’t love them as much as I love him. This is because I tell him all the time, in front of everyone, how special he is and how much I love him. This apparently hurts their feelings and makes them sad that their moms don’t love them as much. The logic of a 10-year old.

In which my son shocks me into a good silence: (we are talking about dogs mating) Me: Ok, AJ. You know about mating? What does mating mean? AJ: It means you find true love! Me: … (Ok, not always, but so, so sweet).

While watching Band of Brothers, AJ is watching a particularly graphic scene of horror.  This is one reason I was cautious about allowing him to watch it, but he has been so pro-violence lately with video games and such that I felt like it was needed.  During the scene he is quiet and has an intense face… After about 10 minutes of it I hear him quietly say, “Harsh!” in a voice that sounds like it has come straight out of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

AJ is going to go take his second shower of the evening thanks to hair gel. “It’s fun to put in lots of hair gel and play with it when it dries.” He looks like a greaser.

Good grief. My son’s usual propensity to not filter his speech is even worse around other kids or men that might want my attention. He may as well pee on me.

Man, this kid is a keeper!

Here’s how the story begins: I went to school on early dismissal and we had a party (because this is the mecca of 10-year-old partying) and we made a story that I can’t find the paper (it was on the bannister of the stairs and apparently it’s my fault that it’s now gone) of how it goes so I’ll just make one up. So, this is how it goes.

Once upon a time, there was a town that had a boy named Jack. It was Christmas and he got a crappy sweater (because this is the worst thing that can happen to a child on Christmas). There was a monster that loved sweaters and stole his sweater and stomped away. Then there was a robot polar bear and he created a gingerbread man. There was a globe that broke anything that you wanted when you shook it and the gingerbread man shook it. There was a castle that jack was in and it broke and he fell all the way down to the ground and then the monster came an blew up jack. Jack was in heaven and the monster blew up because of the globe and then the robot polar bear and gingerbread man blew up (because men have to have things blow up in order for it to be a worthy story).

THE END

We sat there and watched the game as Cookie came out during the time-outs to cheer. AJ was mesmerized by small-town basketball. As we sat together, however, I noticed that something was a little off. AJ was yelling when someone would hit an airball, but he wasn’t yelling “AIRBALL” like everyone else.

Not my son.

No. He was yelling “HAIRBALL! HAIRBALL! HAIRBALL!”

Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears and I couldn’t stop laughing. AJ is very sensitive and couldn’t figure out what was my problem. As I tried to calm down to tell him, eyes started turning my direction and I felt my mother’s steely glare on me as she wondered why I was mocking her grandson. Finally, I was able to calm down enough to tell them both why I was laughing. My mom immediately starting laughing and AJ looked at me with disgust.

“What? What else should I have said?”

As I explained WHY it was an airball and, thus, why we yelled airball at a player, I could see the little lightbulb go on over his head.

Sometimes, being a parent offers a rare treasure. I wasn’t laughing at him. Ok, I was, but you would have, too. The way kids perceive life is funny. The next time I’m at a game I can’t wait to see a hairball!

The entirety of the Thanksgiving trip, AJ wore that mood ring around and carried his “mood chart” to inform us of his mood. “It’s red. I’m angry.” “Do you feel angry?” “No, but the ring is red. I must be angry.”

Well, ok then.

What you need to understand about this situation is that AJ is a sensitive, sentimental little guy, but he loses and breaks stuff on a regular basis. He doesn’t hold onto items and, chances are, if he gets something it will be gone within a week. This brings us to last weekend.

AJ had been feeling crummy and feverish so I said that he could sleep in my room so I could keep an eye on him. As his little eyes drifted off to sleep I looked at those little hands and noticed something blue on his index finger.

Yes, he certainly is lovable and he has managed to keep that ring on him or on his sink every single day. He finally has a sentimental object that means something to him. His mood ring reminds him of his time with his family in Illinois and Lola. Anyone that knows us knows that family is first and, for AJ, time there is everything. When he was sick, he wanted that ring on for comfort.

I don’t know when he’ll grow out of it, but hopefully he’ll have other comfort objects by then. For me, I’m just grateful to see that his comfort comes from his family. I wouldn’t have it any other way.