Saturday, March 28, 2009



No it's not Christmas, but it IS a day of celebration around here! Get ready for this:

Monkey has eaten YOGURT! No I take that back...he DEVOURED yogurt! :-D

I'm sure this does not seem like a big deal to most of you. But considering the picky picky eater we have on our hands, this is a BIG DEAL in our house.

We have been attempting to get some kind of dairy product down this child since we weaned him off bottles about 6 weeks ago. He REFUSES to drink milk now in a sippy. We've tried regular, soy, chocolate, rice...nothing has worked. He won't eat cheese, drink those yogurt drinkables, ice cream, or yogurt. I tried to find some other foods with calcium, but the only thing I could ever get him to eat was broccoli. Which made little "airy"? When I asked his pediatrician how to get calcium down him, he suggested getting him to eat Tums. LOLOL! Uh...yeah. I can't even eat those. *gag*

So until today, he wouldn't touch yogurt. But instead of his applesauce dessert at lunch today, I tried a strawberry cheesecake yogurt in his bowl. And it was a hit.

*Mommy is doing the happy dance...and holding her breath because this probably won't work again tomorrow. LOL!*

Since moving to the toddler room FT at school last month, he's been using utensils, so I think that was the trick. Eating from a spoon himself made the difference!

The "tilt" so he gets all of it...

And when that doesn't work, just lick straight out of the bowl...

This little guy just has my heartstrings all bundled up in a messy ball!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Long and The Short Of It

This is for Mandy and all the other girls doing their online makeovers. I haven't done it, but thought I'd give you the real life master and disaster-pieces I've worn over the years...

For those of you that have known me for a long time, know that my hair has been through A LOT. Outside of my uterus, it's my most fickle body part and like my uterus, we've had this love-hate relationship for many years. Nothing stable about it. When it's good, it's REALLY good. When it's bad, it's horrid.

But it hasn't always been like that. It used to always be horrid. I had a span from when I was about 10 until 19, where I just generally had really BAD hair. During most of this time, my mom cut it. Badly.

Sorry, Momma, I still love you so very much for teaching me how to cook and wear high heels and loving me unconditionally!

Just for kicks, here is just a little history of that awful time period in my life.

As you can see, my hair evolution was pretty warped. But to my mother's credit, it WAS the 80's and we thought her hairstyle was really cool too.

Momma, you didn't think you were immune to the humiliation do you? Bwahahahaha!!!

Just to make up for that, here's a shot of a more recent Momma and you can see she has changed with the times too. She now carries herself with a more classic, tasteful style, which I love!

Since then, I've taken matters into my own hands and started going to the pros. I've spend hundreds of dollars on spiral perms, a few dollars on boxes of Clairol, gone to Supercuts, gone to the Four Seasons, done everything imaginable to these poor locks. One thing hasn't changed from the earlier years: My hair evolves from season to season. Rarely do I keep a style for very long. I guess I'm the fickle one now.

Some of you have seen me go through this evolution...not all of it good!

A really bad phase of blonde...

Trying to grow out the blonde and easing the pain with the help of Shinerbock and very good friends that love me no matter how bad my hair is...

I finally cut off all the blonde and into my life wanders this really hot guy. I knew I shouldn't have colored it...

This hot guy sticks around on the promise that I never again go blonde and he eventually asks me to marry him...

Eventually I grow into this Demi Moore style, including her penchant for the hot younger guy...

Trimmed with a little scrunching of newfound curls, thanks to hormones...

Having fun with long layers...

Little Monkey shows up and the long layers just weren't working anymore. Off go 18 inches to Locks of Love...

And then while I was browsing for hair pictures, I came across this picture from three years ago and just had to share. Yeah, I had cute Lost Girl braids, but I think the hottest style is Luke's piratey tresses.

(Click on the picture to enlarge.)

I mean, what girl doesn't fantasize over long, wavy, black locks blowing in the wind, at least once in her life? Since I can't have that style with two monkeys running underfoot, I decide to work with what I got and stick with a cute Lisa Rinna flippy-do. Short, sassy, easy to maintain, and I don't have to cut it every 4 weeks because my hair grows so fast.

For those of you that recommended the darling stylist at Salons on the Creek, THANK YOU! She listened to me and snipped away and didn't give me one story about aliens visiting or having the ability to read my mind. that I'm typing that out, I'm thinking that having the ability to read minds might not be a bad trait for a hairstylist to have. Hmmm....

Anyways, I thought she did a wonderful job, but I'm already moving onto something new. This cut just isn't working, so I'm seeing her again this Saturday. It's really cute, but it's a LOT more work than I imagined and for some reason it seems since the cut three weeks ago, my hair has grown out too long for it to work anymore. :-(

See picture #2 above. It doesn't look quite this bad, but that's how it feels.

Hopefully, by the time some of you see me on Sunday morning, it'll look cute again!

Godly Stewardship

For those of you that have journeyed with me on the Weekly Menu Plan and Weekly Shopping Trip, I apologize for not posting about those in several weeks. I AM STILL DOING IT! I had a tough week and then two really great weeks that made up for it. But I have not fallen off the wagon. In fact, Monkey Momma is blogging about it in a different place now. A new blog called Godly Stewardship. I'll be focusing on the Menu Plan, Shopping Trips (and tips) and other methods of making the most of what God has provided our family over yonder. This site will be more narrowly focused on the amazing men in my family: N, Monkey, and M2. This will allow grandparents and distant family to see the picture postings here without having to wade through boring posts about what I've shopped for at Target this week. *yawn* Sorry Gramma! I know you're thrilled to know that I saved .50 on double coupon day! LOL!

So come over and visit if you'd like. If not, no biggie. The new blog is really more an experiment in accountability and journal of making the most of what we're given. Which, if I'm really honest with myself...that's a LOT!

Saturday, March 21, 2009


Just recently a friend of ours lost a close friend of hers. I didn't know him. But he was 33 and sat up in bed with a massive heart attack one morning, dying instantly. He left behind a young wife with two young children under 3. He was 33!

Then there's the story of Natasha Richardson this past week.

Both stories just break my heart and I've cried tears for both families over the course of the last few weeks. And I don't know either of these folks! Call it pregnancy hormones, but I don't think that's all.

Since JK's arrival, N and I have been pretty good about really seizing the moment within our family. We have our selfish/too-wrapped-up-in-to-do-list moments, but generally, we are more apt to let the dishes and laundry pile than not enjoy a moment with each other or our son. Dishes and dirty laundry can wait. Our son will only be 18 months old once. Anything could prevent one of us from taking another breath. Will a chore list or a selfish desire be the thing to keep me from missing those moments in time?

In spite of being pretty good about this, this week I've been hyper-aware that life can change on a dime. Almost to the point where my days this week seem to be in slow motion. Not the bad, "OMG, is this day going to end soon?" slow motion. But the kind of slow motion where you can really soak up each sound, smell, emotion, detail of the moment. Admittedly, these slow motion moments have not happened at work (Haha - surprised right? LOL!), but specifically with my son, my husband, and a few special moments I've had with girl friends.

I've been very aware that these moments are gifts, that God is giving me something to cherish and implant in my memory because someday I will be recalling it. So I grasp tightly to the sunlight flashing through my son's hair while he plays trucks with N by our front window. I listen closely to the emotion in the song playing in the background. I linger on the scent of my husband's after-shave when he pulls me into a squeeze. I hug my girl friend tighter as we part.

I almost didn't post this, because there is a tiny part of me that is scared to say it out loud. But that same tiny part is wondering WHY God would have me implant that in memory...what's He about to do, yanno? I know...sounds crazy, but there it is.

So lately, I think to myself that if God or circumstance were to remove my loved ones from my life, would I have any regrets about our final moments together? I would be devastated of course. Sad beyond belief. Our son is the light of our lives and this family just does not work without my husband there. My girl friends are some of the biggest blessings I've ever had. The loss of any of the above, would leave terrible, irrepairable holes in my life. But this week, I can honestly say that I would not have much regret. I've attempted to live every moment with my loved ones as immersed as I could possibly be. I know that this is hard to do every moment, every day, every year of our lives. But this is a start for me. I'm trying. I don't always do it well, but at least I'm doing it.

What do you need to do to let go of the obstacles that prevent you from LIVING and LOVING right now? Is it a chore list? Is it a hobby? Is it work? Don't assume you can put it off until tomorrow. It might never come...

Monday, March 16, 2009

Momma's Baby Steps

Today was an exciting start to our week in the W family! This morning we spent 2 hours in the ER because JK fell into a metal end table at Gramma’s house. Upon investigation, Gramma notices there’s a cut in the middle of his forehead. A frantic phone call to Mommy's office has us deciding that a trip to the ER wasn't such a bad idea. Monkey seemed fine, but the cut was pretty deep and because of the placement (smack dab in the middle of the forehead), we thought a doctor taking a look might be best. So I tell my boss what happened, race to the ER, and start filling out paperwork while I wait for Gramma to show up.

A few minutes later, I see them walk into the ER waiting room. Monkey looks fine. Sippy cup in one hand, stuffed monkey in the other and a big grin as he sees me. “Momma!” As he gets closer, he points to his head and goes, “Ow”, proudly showing me his injury. Yep, we definitely need to be at the ER. This was no cut, but more along the lines of a gash.

As we wait to get called, Monkey keeps himself busy watching Handy Manny on TV and looking at the fish in the fake aquarium. Occasionally, letting Mommy and Gramma mop his head with a washcloth. But it’s hard to keep this little guy still. He actually seems a little hyper and too happy. Very surreal to witness while he has this huge ugly red hole in the middle of his forehead. Weird. Later the nurse says he was probably running off adrenaline, thus the elevated energy.

Finally we’re ushered in to meet a PA. He was great! He was a young, charismatic man with a long dark ponytail, named Tad. Monkey took to him right away. All smiles, chatting, high-fiving. Tad took a look at our little guy and said it would definitely need stitches, but didn’t think it necessary for a plastic surgeon. So all was going fine. Until we had to wrap Monkey in a straight-jacket fashioned out of a sheet, so we could hold him down for the lidocaine shots and the stitches.

Oh my word. There really are no words to explain how I felt at that point.

For the next 10 minutes, I listened to my child scream, plead and beg for me while he’s scared, in pain, and cannot move. The fear in his eyes was the worst. I was watching my son go through an immensely fearful and painful process and yet just KNEW that it was in his best interests to let him go through it. I know he was confused and didn’t understand why Momma and Gramma were contributing to this torture. My heart was breaking!

This is the part of parenthood that people SAY is going to be hard, but until you’re there, you JUST. DON’T. GET. IT. The flood of protective emotions is immense. Like nothing I’ve experienced before! But I think to myself that I have to be calm and strong, otherwise I’m no help to anyone. So I focus on other thoughts. Like, knowing what I know about my son and most of the men in the W clan, that this is probably just the first of many ER visits. There WILL be more stitches, more broken bones, and other injuries in Monkey’s future. Most of which, I will have to sit back and allow him to go through MORE pain in order to get well for the long run.

As the procedure wrapped up, my fear began to release the constriction around my throat. I was so proud of my little man! I could tell he had exhausted himself with crying and he was starting to relax. Nothing but little hiccups under the swath of blue paper covering his face. He had really worked up a sweat crying and fighting, so once we sat him up, he was soaked and exhausted. His face all puffy from crying, wet curly hair sticking in every direction. And SEVEN, count ‘em, SEVEN bright blue thready stitches closing up an angry red hole. The assisting PA said that Tad was the best seamstress they had in the ER, so we were in good hands. I hope so. Those stitches are right in the middle of my precious baby’s forehead. I try not to think of the scar it might leave.

Monkey actually lets me cuddle with him for a few moments, which is rare. He’s not a cuddler since he hit toddler-dom. My poor Monkey! As he hiccuped into my neck, I had an overwhelming urge to turn, run, and somehow stick him back in my belly where I knew it was safe and all his needs would be met. But it dawns on me in that split second cuddle, that those days of safety and control are long gone. That’s another part of parenthood that you don’t really get until you’re there: at some point you have to let go. The concept that this is just a baby step in that direction is a hard pill to swallow. Someday, he’ll be off to school, off driving with a permit, off going on a date, off going to college. All bigger steps towards the eventuality of what he's meant to do: off living independently with his own family, making independent decisions, struggling to watch his own independent child grow up.


How can this experience be so amazing and blessing-filled and wonderful and still sooo hard?

I watched my son with a mix of relief and sadness as he struggled to free himself from my arms. He'd spotted a latex glove that had been blown into a balloon and wants to kick it. He turns and smiles and says, "Bwoon".

"Yes, baby, that's your balloon," I said, gulping away the lump in my throat.

Thankfully, watching my son start his own family is at least two decades away. Until then, I’ll just take my tiny baby steps, while I watch him take his big boy steps.

Friday, March 6, 2009

So The Search Begins...

I talked to my OB today about all the changes going on in her office. Specifically, the inattentiveness from her MA and the rest of the staff not really being as patient focused anymore. While she acknowledged the changes and apologized for me being unhappy, she made it clear that “this is just the way things are now” in their office due to their new office manager. Basically, if I want her to be my doctor, I just have to deal with the new “business changes” that she doesn’t control anymore.

I’m disappointed. This is so not what I wanted. I really love my OB and even the other doctors in the practice, all of whom I’ve met. I just don’t like the new support staff. But today it was made obvious that they are a package deal. I’ve already started making monthly payments towards them handling this delivery, so I’m not sure if I’ll get that money back now. I’ve made a call to the billing department to find out. See, I don’t even know who handles billing anymore! Diane isn’t there anymore and now it’s “the billing department”.

I’m just bummed. Not just from the experience thus far, but from the fact that I’m even having to consider searching for a new OB half way through a pregnancy. I’m scared. Nervous. I wanted this experience to be as good, if not better than my birth experience with Monkey. Unless I decide to just tough it out with these issues, I’ll be dealing with all brand new people at a new OB’s office.

After the appointment, just out of curiosity, I walked about 4 doors down the hospital hall to Dr. O’s office. He’s an OB that used to be with this same practice, but as of the last few months is no longer. When I entered his waiting room, I thought maybe I could schedule an appointment with him to just interview him. But he had time right then to talk for about 20 minutes, which suprised me. He was very kind and listened to everything I had to share. He said he left the practice and went independent for the exact same reasons I’m unhappy. And he was one of the founding doctors of that practice, so it felt good that I wasn’t alone in my opinion. He didn’t expound on his opinion or speak badly of them, but was very professional about it. I’ve been considering a VBAC (natural Bradley birth) delivery, so I asked him his stance on that. He shared WHY he came to the conclusion he doesn’t recommend VBACs and especially natural VBACs – stating details from several formal medical studies from reputable medical journals. He was very matter of fact and firm in his stance, which I appreciated. My current OB stated her opinion, but couldn’t really state WHY and definitely didn’t speak with the confidence of Dr. O.

To finish things, Dr. O said he’d be happy to take me on as a patient, but that he didn’t want me to make the decision today. He felt since I’d just left Dr. H’s office and was feeling so disappointed, that I needed some time to mull over what happened. He also said this would also give me the opportunity to explore/interview other OBs. I thought that was cool too, as it made me feel like he really wanted me to WANT him as my doctor. He stated to me that he’s been practicing medicine for over 30 years and had an established patient base. So he’s not looking/hurting for business. When he takes on new patients, he wants them to feel they can trust him. This made me feel good too. I didn’t feel like I was getting a sales pitch or that he was excited about taking patients from his former practice.

I’ve got a few other referrals I’m thinking of exploring, so we’ll see. My immediate prayer is that our little son stay healthy and continue growing well and that his Momma not stress out over during this interim process. I’m just trying to remember that, just like the bassinette, that God has a plan. I just need to trust in His timing in the revelation of that.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

18 Things I Love About You

Little Monkey,

This past month or two has grown you into such a big boy! We simply can't believe how much can change in such a short period of time. It's so easy for us to find things we love about you, but in celebration of your year and a half birthday, we'll try to keep it at 18.

I'll be surprised if we don't lose people in the midst of this blog posting!

So sorry dear readers...this is really more for my mommy journal than anything!

  1. I love how much of a boy you are! Everything right now is about trucks and balls and being as loud as you can possibly be. We are working on your "inside voice", but it's so hard because when you're busy screaming, it really is funny to me. My laughter just seems to encourage it. You also have a really great strong aim when it comes to balls. We think you might be an athlete in the making.

  2. I love how happy you are in the mornings. You cry until we come into your bedroom, but the moment you see us, you are all smiles. Usually, all your stuffed animals, pillows, blankets and sometimes socks are laying on the floor. Which is upsetting to you. We still can't figure out why you throw them there to begin with.

  3. I love how verbal you've become. We've already lost count of how many words you now know, but there are a lot! Lately your favorite thing is to point at something and say, "Whassat?" or "Whassis?" When we ask you back, you almost always say what it is, whether it's a body part, a color, an item, a person. Sometimes you just chatter away in babble and we have no idea what you say, but you follow it with a huge smile when you see our confused expressions. Sometimes I think you're teasing us!

  4. I love how you love music so much. Gramma C got you a little jambox that sticks to the fridge. Every morning while you wait for Mommy or Daddy to get your "jooz" (juice), you push those buttons and dance your little heart out. I find it especially funny that you enjoy rap or almost any music with a hard base. You are definitely your Daddy's boy in that regard!

  5. I love how you go to bed without any issues. After bathtime, the routine is very standard and comfortable to you. Tonight, we said our prayers like we do every night and for the first time, you said, "AMEN!" at the end of it, which made me laugh. Then when I put you in your crib, you said, "Nigh-nigh" and blew me a kiss. You are such a precious boy! Please teach this to your little brother when he arrives!

  6. I love how your stuffed monkey Momo is your best friend. You talk to him, you cry with him, you share your food and drinks with him. We hope this is good practice for when you become a big brother! Today I gave you Momo in the car after school. You picked up Momo's hand, making it wave to you and said, "Hi!" and then you said "Hi" back. I find it so funny that you are already pretending so early!

  7. I love how much you love your Daddy. You follow him around everywhere when he's home and you get very upset when he leaves in the mornings. If he's in another room, you want to be with him and if he's not home, you always ask about him. You love wrestling with him and you love taking naps with him on the weekends, which makes me love you both all the more. I hope that you can grow up with a strong relationship with him, because he is the finest man you will ever meet!

  8. I love how tenderhearted you are. While you are a rough and tumble little boy, your feelings get hurt easily. While I hate to see you upset, I know that someday you will learn to use your sensitivities to be tenderhearted towards those that need it. We hope that we can teach that skill to you.

  9. I love it when you call for me. This seriously never gets old to me. "Momma?" as you walk around the house looking for me. For so many years I longed to hear that word in my ears and you are the first one to say it. I know someday it might be, "Mother!" out of exasperation, but for now, I relish in your little boy voice calling out for me. As I type this, I wonder if that's how God feels when we come to him in prayer. Does he relish in our heart's verbiage as much as I relish in interacting with you?

  10. I love how you never walk. You almost always run everywhere you go. You are always on the move and it's a rare thing to share a still moment with you. But I love hearing the pitter-patter of your little feet running down the hallway. And I love watching you going 90 miles an hour. As an older Momma, I get tired easily just watching you, but your energy is one of my favorite things about you!

  11. I love your curly hair. So much so that I can't bring myself to cut it. Yes, more often than not, strangers give us compliments on how beautiful our little girl is. Or what a cutie our daughter is. Even when we dress you in very obvious dinosaur/truck/sports/monster boy clothes with Spiderman tennis shoes, your hair is so beautiful and your little face so pretty, that people don't even notice your clothes. They just think you're a pretty little girl. I've stopped correcting them and just try to see you in their eyes. And yes, they're right: you are beautiful!

  12. I love how curious you are. While sometimes it's challenging for us to keep your little hands out of dangerous places, I love how you are always wanting to see new things to learn, or find new places to explore. It is such a joy to us to watch your face while you discover something new or find a new game to play.

  13. I love how fearless you are. You really do not understand the concept of danger. While I'd like to think this is just the innocence of toddler-hood, I know that this is a classic W family trait that's in your genes. You are exactly like your Daddy and De-Da. Neither of them have any fears when it comes to physical activity. I know today this fearlessness shows up in the form of climbing anything that will hold your weight. But I cringe in the knowledge that someday this means you'll be skiing down double-black diamonds with Daddy in Taos. But honestly, I'd much rather you not be scared of a lot than have a spirit of fear your whole life.

  14. I love how you really know no strangers. While you are initially reserved like your Daddy, after you've engaged with someone for even just a few words, you are quick to chat and charm. In this aspect, you are very much like your De-da: engaging, happy, charismatic, and genuine.

  15. I love how your are starting to learn your manners. While we still struggle with the occasional melt-down, you are learning to say "Pease" (please), "Dat-you" (thank you), and the other night, you walked right up to some of Daddy's coworkers with your little hand extended to shake their hands. We were so surprised and so proud of you!

  16. I know someday this will embarrass you, but I'm so sorry. I can't ignore it and I must mention it. I love watching you run around the house in your diaper and socks. With your curly, uncut, unruly hair, this just reminds me that you still have some baby in you. You're definitely starting to hit the independence of the Terrible Twos, but watching you run down the hall half nekkid always chokes me up and reminds me that no matter what, you'll always be my first baby.

  17. Speaking of independence, I love how independent you've become. You can now eat with a spoon and fork quite successfully. You are also learning to put on your shoes, although the socks are still a bit challenging. You are learning to wash yourself at bathtime with the bubbles. You are even learning to blow your nose when it's running!

  18. Most of all, my sweet son, I love the fact that you are MINE. While I know you are really God's on loan to me, I feel like the luckiest Momma in the world to be the one that GETS to raise you. I am realizing more and more that it's a calling to raise a W boy. I was called to it, just like your Gramma C and Gramma F were called to raise W boys. Both of those ornery, active, smart little boys have turned into magnificent men of God. If I can do half the job with you that they did on your Daddy and De-da, then I'll consider it successful.

You bring us so much joy, so many good tears, so much laughter every single day. I honestly cannot remember what our lives were like before you arrived. It was like color suddenly arrived and we had no idea life was black and white before! You enrich us in so many ways, that this list is just the beginning. Thank you for being you. We pray that we can do what is needed to make you the man that God will call you to be. We pray that we can give to you the unconditional love that is needed for you to feel secure and strong in this world and still look forward to the Kingdom we're all adopted into.

We love you so very much sweet boy! You make us proud every day!

Momma and Daddy

Monday, March 2, 2009

Menu Plan Monday - 3/2/09

N's out on a ski trip this week, so I'm attempting to make some items that will make two meals so I can freeze some of the extra portions. This really helps on the dash-in-dine lunches that we inevitably spend money on during the week. Plus, with him gone, I'll actually have the time in the evening to spend time cooking sans guilt. The house should be pretty spic-n-span too!

Amazing how much I get done when he's not here. Am I the only Mom/Wife like this???

MONDAY: Leftover chicken and potatoes
TUESDAY: Mexican Polenta Bake
WEDNESDAY: Gluten-free/Dairy-free Lasagne
THURSDAY: Breakfast (Eggs, bacon, applesauce)
FRIDAY: Egg Salad Sandwiches

WEEKEND: We'll see. With N gone, things will be either uber-easy or we'll be treating ourselves to eating out a bit. :-)

To meet more Menu Planners and get some dinner ideas, visit Laura over at

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Pah-tah, pah-tah, pah-tah!!!

Our little Monkey is still quite the picky eater. His tastes change from day to day, so what is devoured one day is ignored the next. Just when I think something is a hit, he ignores it the next time I make it and proves me wrong. From what I understand this is fairly typical toddler behavior, but's hard to stay on my toes when it comes to cooking. I've been doing great with the weekly meal planning, but his pickiness makes it tricky to plan meals for him. So on nights I KNOW dinner will be snubbed (anything with chicken), I usually fix him his favorite meal: pasta with red sauce. I really think this boy could eat his weight in shells, spaghetti, ravioli, or ziti! If he sees me put a pot on the stove, he immediately thinks I'm boiling water to make him pasta, which elicits tons of excited screaming:

"Pah-tah, pah-tah, pah-tah!"

This is usually accompanied with him hopping around the kitchen in a Snoopy-like dance, unable to contain the excitement. I need to record that sometime. LOL!

This past month we've been focusing on practicing with our utensils. Those little baby forks and spoons have been a bit challenging for his little hands. I think sometimes the handles are too fat for him to manuever. So I found a set of cocktail forks and spoons at Target, which are perfectly sized for Monkey hands. They seem to be a little easier for him to grasp.

Concentrate, focus, poke that food...

...and if you don't get it, just put it on the fork with your other hand.

And if the food makes it to your mouth...

...have a party and celebrate!

Tonight he ate FOUR bowls of pasta, which probably would equal about two servings of what I would eat. I'm not sure which side it's from, but we're pretty convinced that this guy has some Italian running through those veins!