Top Of Her Game

I don't believe I've mentioned before that all three of my girls take gymnastics classes. I think I've mentioned going to gymnastics, but haven't really talked about it. Sonya has been going since she was 2 1/2, Lana since she was a baby and Georgia before she was even born. Although, they didn't actually start the classes until they could walk. Still, we've been doing it for a while. They all love going and get excited when it's "their day" for gymnastics. If they didn't love it so much we would not go, because it's starting to cost us an arm, leg and part of a hip. It is the only extracurricular thing they do. My kids will never be big enough to play most sports competitively, but gymnastics is one thing they could end up doing seriously. It's for short girls! Move over Shawn Johnson and Nastia Liukin, here come the Dadekian ladies! Especially Lana who is such a peanut and seems to be the best at it.

About four months ago, I moved Sonya to a different class than the Thursday one we had been taking. It was a different day and time that worked better with the little girls' naps. It was also a bit of a tougher class for her, which she needed, but was not happy with. Sonya is the type of kid who some things come VERY easily to. So when something does not, she gets frustrated, almost immediately. This class was something she wasn't used to and they did do some harder things. I thought it was great. She cried every time we went. FOR A MONTH. However, she always wanted to go. I will give that to her. She may get frustrated when she can't do something right away and cry, but she still wants to do it until she gets it. There was one part of class that she was particularly upset about; Climbing the rope.

Some of you may remember the rope we had to climb in gym class when we were kids for P.E. Same kind of rope. This one drops into a giant foam pit. The little kid classes use it to swing on, but the bigger kids try climbing it. Some kids in her class could do it and some couldn't, but they all try. There was one day she got pretty far up, but then looked down and got scared. When she started to come back down, she came down too fast and rope burned her hands. That was enough to keep her from trying to hard for about another two months. After that time, I made a deal with her. Whenever she did reach the top of the rope and rang the bell that hung from the ceiling, whatever day that was, whether it was in 10 days or 10 months I would take her to Menchie's for some frozen yogurt. That was three months ago.

This past Tuesday, we went to her class. She's well past the point of being upset when she goes and can do just about everything her instructor, Alex, asks her to. The one thing she hasn't gotten past is the rope. In her defence they don't do it every week. Usually it's an every other week thing. The last time they did it, she got thisclose. Unfortunately, it was the week we were having swim lessons in the morning. I think that combined with the 45 minutes of gymnastics she had just done, made her too tired.

This week she was the second one to get on that rope. I knew the minute she jumped on that she was going to make it all the way. Did I have my camera or flip video that day? Of course not! Why I ask, why? No matter though, phones do it all these days.

All of the moms, who sit on the side, cheered her name all the way to the top. She got about five inches away and stopped, tired. Then we all yelled for her to keep going, and it was just the push she needed to get herself up that last bit to reach over and ring the bell. Everyone cheered for her as she SLOWLY came down the rope. I was so excited. As she climbed out of the foam pit, I walked over toward her. She was smiling from ear to ear, beaming with pride. I gave her a big hug and told her how proud of her I was. She looked at me with a big smile and said,

"Can we go to Menchie's now?"

She had just accomplished something she had been trying to do for MONTHS, and her only thought was now she can get her frozen yogurt. Yup-she's my kid!

A Baby Story

I mentioned a few months ago, when my little sister had her second girl, that my sister Beth was pregnant with her third baby. We didn't know what she was having at that point, but on Thursday, we found out.

Before I tell you what she had, let me tell you the little story behind this birth. Beth has had two C-sections and when she decided to get pregnant a 3rd time, she thought she would just have to schedule another C-section. Fortunately, she had an OB who employed a Mid-Wife. Both believed there was no reason she could not try for a vaginal delivery. This was an exciting option for my sister, who felt like she had been "robbed" of the complete birth experience. I understand this completely.

I've mentioned before that Sonya was a C-section baby, and I was more than upset when I had to have her that way. When I had Lana I was determined to have a VBAC. I managed to have one with her and Georgia. I completely understood where Beth was coming from and supported her 110%. She did a ton of research on line, hired a Doula and read a bunch of birthing books. She would tell me all the information she learned and it was making ME want to get pregnant again, just to try it more naturally, without the drugs. I know that might sound crazy. The bigger problem for me is that I don't really want another baby, so I decided against it.

She did get resistance from people about her decision, but she stuck with it. When the baby was breech for weeks, she did everything she could to get it to turn. From seeing a chiropractor, to homeopathic solutions. She ended up going to the hospital and having what is called an external cephalic version. This is where the doctor turns the baby from the outside. I'm not sure quite how it works, but it did work and the baby was finally in a go position. Now all she had to do was wait for labor. Unfortunately, labor would never come.

Thursday morning I talked to my sister for about 45 minutes, until about 1pm her time. At that point she was completely fine and not complaining of anything unusual. Then around 3pm MY time I got a call from, Kevin her husband, asking me when I had spoken to her that day. I asked him what has going on, and he informed me that she had called him at work to tell him she was in horrible pain and needed him to come home right now. By the time he was pulling into his driveway, there was an ambulance right behind him.

MY SISTER HAD CALLED AN AMBULANCE.

Now, for those of you who don't know Beth, she is NOT the drama queen of the family. That honor is left to me and my youngest sister, Megan. Megan may be slightly more dramatic than I am, but still, we both play our parts. Beth, however, has always been the quiet laid back one, so for her to call 911 means something is seriously wrong.

After a few rounds of calls and updates from her husband, when they got to the hospital, it seemed as though everything looked okay. They were going to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation, and she and the baby were fine. Eventually, Kevin gave me a phone number to call her. Thinking everything was okay, as soon as she answered the phone I joked,

"What, so you want to take over the drama queen role in the family now?"

Silence.

"Beth?" I asked.

"They're giving me a C-section," she said very quietly. "I'm just broken."

I thought I was going to cry. I felt so bad for my younger sister. She had done everything in her power to get the birth she wanted, but no matter how much she planned or tried, God or the Universe or whatever, had much different plans. She had something called placental abruption. This is when the placenta separates from the uterine wall and the effects can be well, disastrous to both mother and baby. There was no other option than to have the C-section. Well, no other option that would keep my sister and the baby alive anyway.

There was nothing I could say to her to make her feel better. I knew the LAST thing she wanted to hear was "Well, the most important thing is a healthy baby." I mean, yes that is the ultimate goal. That is, of course, what she most wanted, but she had tried so hard to give birth the way her body was meant to, and she was losing that. All I could say to her was,

"That just sucks. I'm so sorry."

Lame, I know, but it was all I had. She soon got off the phone with me and went to have her baby. I waited about two hours for the call. My mom was calling me to see if I had heard. Megan was calling me too, but I was waiting just the same as they were. Finally around 6:30, Kevin called to give me the good news. Zach was no longer the lone boy in the family. My sister gave birth to Benjamin Alex on July 1st at 8:30pm.

When I talked to her a while later, she was happy. Her baby boy was here and healthy. Even though she was upset by the C-section, she knew there was nothing she could have done, unlike so many C-sections done today. Hers was a medical necessity. A true life or death situation.

I know the next few weeks will be hard on her physically and emotionally. I hope she can take comfort knowing that she did EVERYTHING she could to achieve a natural birth. So many woman end up with unnecessary C-sections today. So many don't even try for a VBAC after one and after two it's unheard of. A lot of doctors won't even talk about a vaginal birth after a C-section. Sure there is a risk for something to go wrong, but the risk is so small. Anyone having a baby is taking a risk anyway. You have no idea what it will do to your body and there are so many things can go wrong. I'm very proud of my sister for what she did and learned even if she didn't get to follow through. I really wish more woman would look into this option instead of just automatically scheduling a C-Section. For some reason woman think it's easier to get cut open and recover from surgery for two plus weeks than go through a days worth of bad-horrible pain, (depending on your drug option). Sure there is still some pain "down there" afterward, but it's nothing like getting cut open. I can say this with certainty, because I HAVE had it both ways. I would spend a day in labor WITHOUT drugs than ever get another C-Section. So if anyone reading this has gone through a C-section, consider your options the next time. Figure out if a C-section was truly what you needed. Consider finding a doctor who will support a more natural childbirth next time. You'll be happy you did. If nothing else, do it in memory of my sister's girly parts that never got to push a baby out. I still commend her for trying so hard, and admire her for going for something the majority didn't agree with. Sometimes the majority isn't right.

Hold on I have to get off my soap box now, it might take a minute.

Whew!

Anyway, yes Beth had a healthy baby in the end, but let's be honest, the more important thing here is not that she had a healthy baby or had a vaginal birth. The more important thing is that she had a BOY. (A boy she's keeping fully intact too, but that's soapbox for a different day. ) Now Zach doesn't have to play baby dolls and barbies at family reunions. I mean unless he wants to. Not that there's anything wrong with that...

Congrats Beth, Kevin, Zach and Grace! Welcome to the (almost) all girl family little Benjamin!

Learning From the Best

Today is the 36th anniversary of the day my husband was born. Okay, it's his 36th birthday. I guess there's no need to get fancy. I wanted to wish him a happy day and thank him for all he's done as a husband and a father. Especially, I wanted to thank him for all he teaches the girls. Everything from how to throw a ball to painting the swing set. He helps them to learn their letters and numbers and teaches them to ride their bikes. He's always trying to spend time with them and teach them as much as he can. Then again, I guess he isn't the only teacher in this house. No, I'm not talking about myself, although I do take some credit for what my girls know. No, the other teacher in the house, as much as I hate to admit it, is the TV.

Yesterday I was putting together one of Georgia's birthday gifts, I hadn't finished yet, while the little girls were sleeping. Sonya was helping me out by handing me the screws and the hammer when I needed them. At one point I realized what I needed instead of a hammer was a rubber mallet. I wasn't sure Sonya would know what a rubber mallet was, so I asked her to go out to the tool bench in the garage and get me anything that looked like a hammer. She came back inside carrying another hammer we have and the rubber mallet.

"Thanks Sonya! That's exactly what I needed," I said as I took the mallet from her. Then she looked at me and rolled her eyes like a 15 year old. She sighed and in a condescending tone said to me,

"That's not a hammer, mom. That's a rubber mallet."

"I didn't know you knew that!" I said surprised. "Who taught you that, Daddy?" I asked. I assumed he had showed her the difference between the two at some point when he had used it.

I was feeling proud once again that my husband was teaching his girls everything he would teach a son, but that feeling soon disappeared when she looked at me and said,

"No. I learned it on Mickey."

Oh.

Well then.

I guess I should be thanking the television for all the hard work it's done to help teach my children as well. Although, it still can't show them how to throw or catch a baseball. THAT will be left up to Andy. And I have to say, Sonya can throw and catch better than I can at this point, so well done hubby. (Although, I'll admit that's not saying much. Still she IS pretty good)

I hope you have a great day and a wonderful year teaching the girls new things. I love you! Happy Birthday Baby!

Smart and Sneaky

I know I've mentioned to you all before about how smart Lana is. Not in the same way Sonya is, but in that logical, figure how to get what I want, sort of way. I sometimes forget that she is like this. This can also lead to her being sneaky when she knows she's doing something she shouldn't be. Sonya is usually more straightforward, so it catches me off guard when Lana acts this way.

A couple of weeks ago, when my family was here, my mom brought these miniture jars with M&M's in them for the girls. They were party favors at a wedding they recently attended. Nona made sure to get enough so each of her granddaughters had one. She gave them out when she got here. For Lana this was a perfect present. A tiny container! With CANDY?! Is it Christmas?!

She immediately decided this was her new treasure, and began to carry it around in her purse with her other treasures of the day. I let her open it once to take out a couple of M&Ms, but it was just after breakfast and I wasn't letting her eat the whole jar. I'm not that crazy. Yet.

About an hour later we all packed up to take the kids to gymnastics. Lana wanted to take her jar of M&M's with her, but I told her no way. She couldn't do gymnastics with a little jar and we weren't about to leave it in the car where it would become M&M fondue. We argued about it for a minute and then my mom offered to Lana to keep the jar in her purse. She thought about it for a minute and decided it was okay. The only problem with this solution was that my parents left halfway through gymnastics to bury my Grandmother's ashes. They wouldn't be home for the rest of the day. I didn't think about that part until we got home and Lana said,

"Whea aw my M&M's?"

Crap. Ummmmm...

"Sorry Lana, I think they're still in Nona's purse. We'll get them when she gets back," I tried to tell her.

"Noooo! I wan my M&M's now!" She complained.

"Well you'll just have to wait until she gets home," I explained again.

This was not what she wanted to hear, and she proceeded to start crying over her miniture jar of M&M's. Great. Now, most of the time I just let her cry and get over it, but I was trying to get her down for a nap. To be honest, I just didn't feel like dealing with a tantrum right then. So I did the bad mom thing and I gave in. Sorta.

"Look! Here's GG's jar of M&M's. You can borrow them until Nona gets back," I told her.

The fact was she just liked carrying around the little jar and I wasn't going to let her eat any of the candy right then anyway. Plus the lid on the jar was a little hard to get off, especially for the kids.

She stopped crying and agreed to "borrow" her sisters jar until my mom got back. Georgia didn't even know she had such a jar or that it got leant out, so all was well again. I took Lana and her jar to her bedroom for her nap. She wanted to hold the jar, but she agreed to let me place it on top of her dresser instead. This way it was still near her, but she couldn't get to it. Or so I thought. I left the room and didn't hear another peep from her, which I did find a bit unusual because most of the time I get at least one request for something at naptime. I think I was just happy to have three of the five kids sleeping at that point, so I ignored my, "something's a little off" thoughts.

Around three o'clock, I decided Lana needed to get up from her nap. We opened the door to her room to let her wake up on her own. Then I went in to check on her five minutes after that. That's when I found her sitting in bed with an empty jar on her nightstand. The jar that used to have M&M's in it before her nap. I picked it up and looked at her and she just smiled at me.

"Lana, what did you do?" I asked as straightfaced as I could.

"I eat GG's M&M's," she said coolly, while still chewing on her blankie.

I was trying so hard to not laugh. I was the one who left them in the room, although I thought she coudln't get to them. Obviously I was wrong and seriously underestimated what my daughter can do when she really wants something. I have NO idea how she even got that lid off. It must have taken her a while and she was so quiet doing it. None of us heard a thing, and we have a pretty small house.

I did end up punishing her. She was under the impression that when Nona came back, she'd get her own jar once again. When I informed her that her old jar would now be Georgia's, she started to cry and pout as before. This time I let her go. She eventually got over it. She even opened the now empty jar and started to put her own treasures in it.

Later that day when Georgia got the other jar that WAS filled, I let her eat a few of the M&M's. Don't you know I caught Lana sweet talking poor little Georgia into giving her a few of those little candies, even though she had a entire jar for herself already.

See...smart and sneaky. Somebody save me.

Bye Bye Baby

Today is Georgia's second birthday. This means I no longer have any babies in my house. None. Zip. I suppose technically Georgia hasn't been a baby for quite a few months now, but since she IS the baby of the house, we kind of let her hold the title for a while. Now I have nothing but kids. On the one hand this makes me sad. On the other hand, the one where I don't have to get up and take care of a screaming infant three times a night, that hand is very happy. Plus after having my sister here a couple weeks ago with her newborn, Andy and I decided we were most definitely done with that phase of having kids. No offense to little Vivian, but I do NOT feel like going through swaddling, shushing, and dancing around the house again to get a baby to sleep, only to have her eyes pop open, five minutes after putting her down, and hearing her scream again. Nope, I do not miss those days at all. I mean they're incredibly cute when they're babies, but soooo very much work!

I will, however, miss all the firsts. Things like smiling, laughing, crawling, walking, discovering their hands and feet, all those things that make babies so damn cute. I will also miss holding them and rocking them at night. I realized this last night when I was up with Georgia at four in the morning.

I think I've mentioned a few times about my girls sleeping issues. While I don't have to get up to feed any of them, I do still get up in the middle of the night. A lot. Georgia seems to suffer from insomnia from time to time and Lana, we think, has nightmares. Therefore I'm up on and off in the middle of the night. Some weeks are worse than others. It sucks, but it's still better than a newborn waking up, because at least there ARE nights where they don't wake up at all. Luckily, Sonya sleeps like a champ and hardly ever wakes in the middle of the night.

Last night Georgia decided to remind me of what I was missing not having a newborn. She was up for about an hour, maybe more. I guess she just couldn't sleep. Maybe she was excited for her birthday today, who knows, but sleeping was not in her plan for the night. I put her in bed with us for a bit, then back to her crib. Then she wanted me to rock her. I was so tired at this point and all I wanted her to do was go back to sleep. As I sat there in the dark rocking her at four in the morning, it occurred to me that this may be one of the last times I get to do that. I don't rock Lana and certainly not Sonya anymore. Georgia is the only one who still gets use out of the rocking chair, and as she heads into her third year of life, I'm guessing she's not going to need it much longer either.

In that moment, I let go of my annoyance over being up in the middle of the night, and I relished in the moment of rocking my baby to sleep. My last baby. Well, kind of to sleep. She still didn't go to sleep for a good thirty minutes after that, but still. It's funny too, because I can remember her being so little just a month ago, or what seemed like a month ago. As she laid on me last night in the rocking chair, her body felt so heavy and big. I just don't know when that happened.

So while I'm happy to moving past babyland and into complete kiddom, I will always have great memories of my babies and all they did that amazed me... and annoyed me. I know there is so much more to look forward to in the upcoming years,(like getting rid of ALL diapers!) but there is a little part of me that will always want a baby. I'm not sure that will ever leave me. Even if I do enjoy sleeping through the night.

Happy Second Birthday Georgia. My big girl, but forever my baby!

No More Green Bananas

When I talked about my family coming in to town last week, I mentioned how it was for the passing of my Paternal Grandmother. Her memorial service was supposed to be this past Saturday. I say "supposed to be", because it wasn't. My family flew out here from Milwaukee and Florida and there was no farewell to Grandma to be had. The reason was because, unfortunately, Thursday afternoon my Grandfather ended up in the hospital with kidney failure. The good news is, he made it to the hospital in time. He is still being treated and for the time being is doing okay. Since it was my Grandpa's wife we were honoring, it was understandable that we wanted to be there for it. There was no way he was going to be out of the hospital by Saturday so he decided he wanted to postpone the service.

Sooooo, yeah. My (almost) entire family, came out here for nothing. Well, it wasn't REALLY for nothing. We did get to spend time together and have a great time. I'm glad they came, but feel bad that the reason they were specifically here didn't happen. It was nobody's fault though. Instead of going to Grandma's Memorial on Saturday, we decided to go visit Grandpa in the hospital. Five kids and all!!

The day before we were going to the hospital I told Sonya how Grandpa got sick, and instead of going to Grandma's Memorial, we were going to visit Grandpa. She didn't really ask too many questions at that point. On Saturday morning, Sonya was sitting in her closet putting her shoes on. I was sitting on her bed helping Lana get dressed. Sonya had a sad look on her face and then she says to me,

"Mommy? Is Great Grandpa going to die too?"

Oh boy. I wasn't prepared for that one. When I decided to have kids, I was ready to change diapers, calm a crying baby, and kiss boo-boos. I didn't think ahead to someday having to explain death. Why does nobody tell you these things?! The only thing worse is this points to the fact that, sooner rather than later, I'll have to explain about getting a period and...(deep breath) S-E-X. Ah, the joys of parenting!

After taking a minute to gather my thoughts I said, "Oh Sonya. No, Great Grandpa isn't going to die today, but everybody does dies sometime." I didn't want to lie to the kid. My Grandfather IS 83. As much as I love him and would love to have him around for a lot longer, time is just not on his side anymore. He even jokes that he won't buy green bananas anymore.

She kind of nodded her head like she understood, but still looked very sad.

"Come over here," I told her motioning in my direction. When she got to me I gave her a hug and told her again, "Great Grandpa is okay right now. He just had to go to the hospital because he got sick, but he's not going to die right now, okay sweetie?

"K," she said back.

"Go finish getting your shoes on so we can go, " I told her and off she went. She seemed to trust in my answer.

I'm not positive I handled that correctly. Who the hell can tell when you're doing the right parenting job or if you're screwing your kids up for life? I guess I'll find out when she gets old enough for therapy. In the meantime, I THINK I did okay. I didn't lie to her and tell her he was going to be around forever, but I didn't scare her into thinking everyone was dying tomorrow.

I will say it caught me a little off guard as well, because she made me see that Grandpa is near the end of his life. Although I already knew this logically, I guess emotionally she made me realize it more. He is my last grandparent, and even though I didn't see him much as I kid, I've really gotten to know him in the past 14 years I've lived here in California. He's a really sweet man who married Andy and I and has been around to get to know my three girls. He comes over to visit at least once a month and is always around for a birthday party or a holiday. He has done his best in the past few years to make up for what he missed with us as kids. He also has some interesting stories about when he was a young man before he and Grandma were married. I always find that kind of history fascinating.

So, I hope he recovers quickly and gets to go home soon. I really want all three of my girls to remember their Great Grandpa. At least to some extent. Plus, I'm not quite done listening to all those stories of "the old days", and if I had to guess Grandpa is not quite done telling them. I mean 83 isn't THAT old.

Tossing Their Cookies

Hey everyone! Much like I anticipated, it was a bit of a madhouse here last week. It was a fun time, but there were FIVE KIDS in this house. Therefore, getting a chance to sit down and write was impossible. Well, that's not entirely true. I suppose I could have written at night after my 3rd glass of wine, but I like my stories to be coherent. I'm still trying to get things back in order, but felt I had to come and share with you a story of what happened last Monday at swim lessons, before all the craziness of my family visit began. I do have to warn everyone, if you have a sensitive stomach don't read this while eating. Or just after eating. Maybe even before. I'd say just avoid food altogether for about an hour.

I don't know if I've mentioned before about how much puke I've had to clean up since having the girls. There was a period of time when Sonya was a toddler when she was getting sick on a bi-monthly basis. Lana wasn't as bad. Maybe that's because she got all of her pukiness out of the way when she had reflux at six months old. She ruined every piece of clothing she had with breast milk spit up. Georgia seems to be following in Sonya's footsteps, getting sick quite often.

They also have seem to have a knack for getting sick in the worst of places. I told you about Georgia throwing up all over me this past Easter at the beginning of Mass. Thank goodness it was the beginning and there were still people walking in. At least I got out of there before the service began, although I had to miss most of the mass, which I was so very upset about. Okay, maybe I wasn't THAT upset.

Then there was the time when Sonya was almost two, and we were on our way back from Andy's brother's wedding. We had just gotten settled in our seat on the plane and Sonya got that look on her face that I knew so well. Before I could act, there was apple juice puke all over her and her blankie. Which was really the bigger problem. We were facing an 8 hour trip with NO blankie. The HORROR! There was also the fact that we had to get out of our seat and change her in the gateway, while the flight attendants got her a new seat cushion and cleaned up the mess. Sonya single handily delayed that flight by about twenty minutes. The people on the plane were super happy with us. Oh well. At least I've never seen any of them again.

Since I've had two out of the three throw up at that most inconvenient times, I don't know why I was so surprised when it happened once again last Monday. At swim lessons. In the water. This time with Lana.

Now, like I said, Lana doesn't get sick to her stomach all the time like the other two do. However, she has a very sensitive gag reflex. There has been more than one time when Andy and I are trying to get her to eat one last bite of food at dinnertime. That one last bite is too much for her, either because she really doesn't like it, or because she already has too much in her mouth. At that point it's only a heartbeat away from her gagging to losing all the meal we just begged her to eat.

Last Monday was the beginning of our second week of swim lessons. Lana was doing well and what was asked of her the entire class. I was so happy she seemed to be progressing, since I wasn't sure she would even get in the water after those first two days of class. Then the teacher came over and tried to see if she could reach the bottom. I didn't see the whole thing happen, but from the information I gathered from both the girls later, when Lana tried to touch the bottom, she got a mouth full of water. This mouth full of water, made her cough, choke, gag and promptly throw up.

In the pool.

The pool everyone was having their lessons in.

It was wasn't a lot, but it was apparently enough to make every class have to get out of the pool. Including the ones aaaallll the way over on the other side of the huge pool, not anywhere near the stomach spill. They even made an announcement ordering all of the teachers to teach their classes outside of the water. Not really the best way to teach swimming, but they had no choice. Little Lana made it so the rest of those classes and half of the next ones were not in the pool. Good times! We were eventually allowed back in halfway through Georgia's class.

Andy was concerned that this would make Lana not want to go back in the water again, because she would be embarrassed, or afraid because she had thrown up in the pool. As it turns out, she had NO idea why everyone got out of the water and could have cared less that she contaminated the pool with her throw up. The next day she got right back in the water like nothing happened. I was more embarrassed than she was. Luckily, I won't see most of those people ever again. Then again, Burbank tends to be one of those small cities within a big city where you run into the same people over and over again, so who knows. I could end up being, "that mom who's kid threw up in the pool" for a while. Yay.

On the plus side, since my girls seem to have a propensity for blowing chunks in the worst of situations, Andy and I were trying to think of ways to use this to our advantage. The girls could be a diversion to rob banks or maybe get free food at restaurants. Get us out of a speeding ticket or a kids birthday party we don't want to be at. OR perhaps we should use this power for good. They could become super heroes of some sort. I mean what criminal is going to run away when he's covered in regurgitated chunks of grilled cheese and goldfish? Maybe we could even get TV and movie deals. The possibilities could be endless for the Puke Patrol!