I'd Like to Phone a Friend....

In an effort to go green and streamline (you'll soon see the fallacy in this intention), I have gone paperless on as many bills and statements as I can.  Unfortunately, every single account and website requires me to come up with a user name and password.  This is where the trouble comes in, because as I have gotten older, my brain has slowly turned into mashed potatoes (I blame the children) and I am incapable of remembering all these little tidbits of information.

I finally started writing them all down (I know, I know, not supposed to, but if someone is willing to break into my home, get on all my various website and find the paper with the information, more power to them...they can have my tiny amount of worldly goods - they clearly want them more than I do), but didn't start this process until about 6 months ago.

Therefore, any accounts that I haven't heard from in a while have retained only a vague, hazy memory in my head, which is often somewhat less than accurate.  Especially since some sites require numbers, some sites won't let you use numbers, some need special characters, etc.  I know you all feel my pain.

Fast forward to today.  I have put off checking on the kids' 529 college funds since the whole economy decided to tank, but thought I'd give them a peek yesterday.  I couldn't remember the entire user name (for some reason, they won't accept partial answers...), so sent an email which was dutifully returned with my new info to log on.  Over the years I have sent and received so many of these "reminder" emails (which should really just have the words "Here, idiot" in the subject line...) that The Professor has created an entire file in our email program for them.

The kids' accounts are held by the same company I have an IRA account with, leftover from my time teaching and actually making money.  So, I go on to the site, and can't remember (imagine my surprise!) any of my log-in info.  Luckily, they have a helpful section for those of us who are memory challenged.  However, when I go to said section, it requires me to have my account number.  Now, even though I keep just about every scrap of paper that has anything to do with anything in my little files, I have NO file for this IRA.  So, I decide that maybe the username is the same as the kids' accounts.  Then, when it starts asking me security questions and I get them all wrong and it locks me out of the system, I am finally forced to get on the phone.

The phone call goes something like this:

"Hi, I have an account with you, and have forgotten my log in information.  I also don't seem to know my account number.  And, I'm now locked out of the system for getting the questions wrong."  This is not a particularly high point in my attempt to make others believe I am a competent human being.

The chirpy voice on the line says, "Oh, no problem.  I'll just need you to answer your security question.  In what city were you married?"

I have drawn a blank.  And, I'm on the phone with a person who is doing her best to act like I am not a complete numbskull.  I finally remember, and tell her the city.

"Hmmm...," she says, "that's not right."  It actually is, so now I have no idea what I did when setting up my security questions.  "How about this one - What's your paternal grandmother's first name?"

I am now so appallingly embarrassed that I make sure I take my time and figure out that, yes, this would in fact be my father's mother.  Thankfully I get that one right, and am allowed access.  I did ask her what I put down as the answer to the wedding question, and I seem to have given them the city in which I was born (you know, born, wedding, same difference). I also found out that I was not locked out of the system, meaning that I locked out some other poor, unsuspecting soul.

Sadly, I think I am definitely not smarter than a fifth grader....

Oh Yeah - It Plays Music Too!

I am not a particularly techie person.  I know how to use the aging electronics that we have, and I'm not interested in getting the newest, shiniest, most up-to-date gadgets.  That is, until Apple wormed their evil way into my home via my (ancient, giant, not flat screen, LCD, etc.) television.

This evil influence came in the form of a commercial for the iPhone.  Now, I almost never use my cell phone.  I got it so the school could contact me in an emergency, and mine has pre-paid minutes and costs me about $5 a month.  I have no interest in actually talking on an iPhone.  What immediately captured my attention, however, was the touch screen.

I was entranced.  I couldn't look away.  Every time the commercial came on, I would call The Professor in to come and see it (a request which was met with not a little eye rolling....).  I loved the way you could flick the pages with your finger.  I loved that you could just touch the screen and make it do what you want.  I even loved the level application they showed on the commercial (you know - so I can check to make sure everything is level when I'm out and about).

However, I'm cheap, I don't want an iPhone, and I tried to move on.  Then, I saw the iTouch.  All the cool touch screen features of the iPhone, but without the whole phone thing (which also requires a giant monthly fee - something I always try to avoid).

Again, I let it go.  I already had an iPod, it worked fine, and it was silly to yearn for this ridiculous toy.  The Professor, however, had other ideas.  He's been doing some consulting work (which sadly pays almost as much per hour as I get all day subbing) and at this point my old iPod started refusing to interface with my computer.  So with a little (sadly only a very little) prodding, I am now the proud owner of a shiny, sleek awesome little box of ridiculousness.

I downloaded a whole pile of (free!) games and apps (including the level thingy, of course), and it is amusing not only me, but my children.
 
I'm actually embarrassed to own it, because it seems to go against all the things in my nature I hold near and dear (the cheapness, the unwillingness to change, the lack of techie-ness - you know - all those wonderful qualities that make me into the odd package that I am).  Now, off to make sure the world is level....


P.S.  I added fish to the blog (silly, I know, but again, it amuses me, and that's really what it's all about....); you may have seen this before, but if not, if you click on the tank it gives them food....

Dirt Is My Rosin

Well, it's been quite a week.  Last week, while putting away Christmas decorations, I fell off a chair.  Not like I was sitting on the chair and happened to fall off, no, I was standing on said chair and decided that I needed to find out what was in the back of the top shelf of my kids' closet.  Next thing I know I have fallen from midair and THUDDED onto the floor.  I cannot imagine what the noise sounded like from below, but as it was the middle of the day, hopefully my downstairs neighbor didn't have to hear it. 

It was one of those falls where it happens before you know it, and as I lay on the ground making sure everything moved the way it was supposed to, the only real thought that comes to mind is something along the lines of "Idiot.....".  I landed mostly on my left side, and apart from being a bit sore, no big deal.

Fast forward to today.  I made the mistake of vacuuming (see - putting things away, vacuuming - I knew they were dangerous, and thus why I try to avoid them at all costs...).  I was walking across my living room rug holding an empty coffee mug and took one step onto the hardwood floors.  Next thing you know, there was another fabulous THUD, and there I was on the floor again.  The mug was miraculously unbroken, and other than some bumps and bruises on my right side I seem to be ok.

Luckily, my bruises are now symmetrical, and I've sworn off cleaning until my skin has regained its former hues.

Expired

I am going to be 40 in March.  I don't mind turning 40, and in fact have been calling myself 40 for a while now (The Professor's birthday is 6 months before mine, so when he turned 40, I jumped on the bandwagon too).  Unfortunately, however, this milestone seems to be coinciding with everything I own breaking down.

About 2 months ago, my Kitchen Aid died (granted, it was almost 20 years old, but still...).  Then my cell phone's screen went completely blank and refused to return.  Then the toilet handle broke off, followed, in quick succession by the flapper in the tank.  And then, while standing in Michael's yesterday purchasing a birthday present for one of the bazillion birthday parties the kids go to (it's standard to invite the ENTIRE class to these things 'round here) the strap on my purse snapped off, sending it to the floor with a loud thump.

Do you think my life could qualify for some sort of extended warranty?

Minty Fresh

Although I haven't blogged in about a bajillion years, I have very few available words of wisdom, except for these: Whatever you do, don't get toothpaste in your eye. Just don't. And then, don't tell your husband that your eye is burning because you got toothpaste in it, because he will oh so helpfully ask you if the tube says anything about what to do when you get toothpaste in your eye. The same tube that you can't read, because - oh that's right - you've got toothpaste in your eye.

WWMD?

The weather is finally better. When it wasn't better (all of last week)it was cold, raining, and thoroughly nasty. My mom and I even had to cancel our much looked-forward-to jaunt to the Sheep and Wool Festival. Imagine how happy I was to see sun this morning. Then imagine my spirits quickly lowering as I realize the reason the sun is shining so brightly off my car is that is is covered in ice.

Now, this is a new car, and as it's only the middle of October I have yet to outfit it with any of the appropriate winter accoutrements such as an ice scraper. As I looked at my sparkly car, my first, optimistic thought was that it was just a thin, delicate little coating. This (perhaps misplaced) optimism was quickly dashed when I opened up my door and said ice let out a loud, cracking sound.

Then, I sat in the car and pumped up the heat and defrost. Ahhh, this will do the trick. Hmmmm.....still icy, and in fact it looked like I was sitting in an igloo. What's a gal to do?

I decided to go all McGyver - I opened up my purse and spied my credit cards! Five minutes later, the car was scraped and ready to roll.

I guess it's true what they say - "For everything else, there's Mastercard."

The Joys of Children

When I was planning a family, I gave a lot of thought to what my kids would be like, what things they would need, what we would do together - you know, all the happy, idyllic thoughts you have about children and what your life would be like with them.

It never once occurred to me that vomit would play such a central role in my life as a mother.

Now, I know I've mentioned vomit before, on more than one occasion. This is probably due to the fact that vomit figures so prominently. It boggles my mind that in all my planning, it never once entered my mind that I would have to get up in the middle of the night and scrape incredible yuckiness off a small child's sheets, pillow, arms, and anything else they happened to plant their hands on.

Then, of course, those incredibly lovely sheets, blankets, pillows, etc. need to be washed. Which for me involves a trek down to the basement laundry room, as I'm on the 4th floor of a walk-up building. We aren't supposed to do laundry at night, so I've developed a system (isn't is sad that this has happened enough times that I have developed a SYSTEM!!) and just stuff all the offending items in plastic garbage bags, seal them up, and wait for morning,

This morning, as all the washers are full, I am sorely tempted to actually pitch these bags into the garbage, but I think my cheapness gene wins over my disgusted gene on this one...

Catch 22

Want a simple way to know if you are desperately in need of coffee? When the coffee you have just made comes out clear, it becomes glaringly apparent that you didn't actually add any coffee. But then, of course, in your most dire hour of need, you have no coffee...

Life's A Beach

We have a really pretty, local beach about a 20 minute walk (unfortunately the way home always takes at least 30 minutes, and is replete with whining, but that's neither here nor there) from our house. It has a lovely playground, pretty walking paths, a sandy beach, a spray ground, and the harbor. Now, I don't let my kids actually swim in the harbor. When we first started taking the kids there, there was some sort of problem with the water quality, and every other day it would be off-limits for swimming. Being a harbor, it's kind of the depository of all the filth the ocean decides it really doesn't care for. I decided that if it's not safe for swimming on Tuesday, I certainly won't be dipping my toes in the water on Wednesday, no matter how many signs tell me it's ok; they have a really great little spray ground there, with water piped in from the drinking water line, and my kids have a blast in there. I don't think they realized that you could go in the water until we met some friends there one day whose kids jumped right in. The shocked looks of recrimination my children sent me were a sight to behold, but they're still not allowed in the water.

Yesterday we went to the beach, and I made the unfortunate tactical error of setting up next to the sexy moms. I don't like sitting by the sexy moms. I wasn't sexy even before I had children, and it is beyond me how these women are able to maintain the sexiness. There were 3 of them, all sporting diamond rings large enough to blind you when the sun hits them, and all 3 were wearing string bikinis with not an ounce of fat on them.

Now, we live in the land of the nip and tuck, and not being a nip and tuck gal myself, I'm never sure how to tell if one has been nipped and or tucked, but I've become pretty good at spotting breast work (is this a marketable skill???). Having birthed and nursed 2 children myself, I know from painful experience that one's chest, when left in it's natural state, will never be what it once was after such abuse. Now, while these women were not sporting BOUS's (for those Princess Bride fans, that's Breasts of Unusual Size) I did conclude that they must have all visited their friendly plastic surgeon for a little help.

I don't begrudge anyone this sort of thing, and if it makes you happy and you can afford it, more power to you. And I know that these women must spend countless hours working out to be able to wear such tiny bathing suits (I could probably have outfitted all 3 of them with the amount of material in my own suit), which I think is laudable.

But I definitely won't be sitting next to them again, if I can help it.

That Probably Wasn't What They Were Going For

I caught the preview for a show on shark attacks on PBS last night. The announcer stated that people shouldn't be so frightened of shark attacks, as they actually have more chance of being hit by lightning than being bitten by a shark.

I must admit, this did nothing to lessen my worry about shark attacks, but definitely ratcheted up my fear of being hit by lightning.

The Big Finish!

Well, today was the last day of school; Big Trouble is no longer a Kindergartner, and Miss Serious is no longer a 2nd grader. They both had wonderful years, and I'm so grateful that we live in such a terrific school district. It's nice as a teacher to see my children not only enjoying school, but learning and thriving as well. There's nothing more wonderful than seeing kids excited about going to school.

On another note, I made a tactical error last night and made these:


We were out of cookies, so as I had some unsweetened chocolate, I decided to make some black and white cookies. I had never made them before, and they went together really easily. Unfortunately, it made quite a lot of cookies. And, I love black and white cookies.

Something I have learned about myself lo these many years is that I don't possess a lot of willpower, which is why I don't keep things like potato chips in the house. When bad food is not here, I cannot eat it. However, last night I somehow felt the need to conveniently forget this fact, and now I have a lot of really yummy cookies sitting on my counter (unfortunately, 2 less than I did when I first made them....).

It's Gonna be a Long Week

I am generally a cautious person. I follow rules and guidelines, and try to act for the common good as often as possible. However, precautions have now landed in my living room for the week.

Big Trouble had a slight fever on Sunday. Whenever he is sick, his temperature generally shoots up above 102 without even a hesitation. So, on Sunday, when he went just above 101, we weren't concerned. He had a little bit of a stuffy nose and a little cough, so it looked like just a cold.

Monday, although he had no fever, we kept him home from school, as they ask that your child be fever free for 24 hours before returning to school. We also checked in with the nurse's office to inform her that he woud be absent, again, as per the guidelines of the school.

And this is where guidelines and following precautions came back to haunt me. Apparently, with the swine flu outbreaks, there is now a policy at the school that any child who exhibits any flu-like symptoms (fever and cough included) must either obtain a doctor's note before returning to school or must stay home for a full week. Now, my children have had the flu. I know what it looks like. This wasn't it, as he wasn't feeling unwell, and after less than 24 hours was fever free.

However, being the good citizens that we are, The Professor dutifully took Big Trouble to the pediatrician. We were then informed by the pediatrician that due to the updated guidelines, if any child has a fever (which he didn't at the doctor's office at this point) that if another cause can't rule out flu (like an ear infection) they are required to stay home from school for a week. She was very nice about it and apologetic, but it is what it is. She also shared the marvelous information that the waiting room was probably full of children with the flu, so by bringing him an (as per requirements) he had now been exposed.

So, we now have a doctor's note in hand saying that Big Trouble can return to school on 6/15. All I can say is: healthy child + small apartment + 1 week = Big Trouble.

Out of the Mouths of Babes.....

I decided this week that I need to get my act together. My eggnog pounds are not magically shedding, even while I continue to eat the same amount of food and resist exercise. Who would have thought? I assumed that just thinking about exercise would help solve the problem, but as this is clearly not the case, this week (well, yesterday) I began to exercise.

I dutifully did my yoga yesterday, and then today as I was putting on my exercise clothes, Big Trouble asked if I would play a game with him. When I told him I was going to exercise first, he asked, "For real?"

There was really no appropriate response, and The Professor's laughter from the kitchen basically said it all, I'm afraid.

The Friendly Skies

I don't fly often, mostly out of lack of funds. Also, being a somewhat highly-strung personality, I am not the most comfortable person in the air. I know that it is infinitely safer than traveling by car. I KNOW this. And yet, when I am in a plane (only taken 3 round trips in my life) and it begins its ascent, I can't quiet the little voice that keeps saying, "You know, this is just not possible."

Well, we finally got ourselves together and decided to go visit my grandparents in Florida. They moved down several years ago, and even though they come up to visit regularly, it would be nice to see where they live and enjoy a little Florida sunshine. We began hunting on the web for airfares - I admit to being somewhat stunned by the costs, especially when you added in the "taxes and fees" portion, which is so adorably left off the fare price. In this state of shock, we actually began exploring taking the train - oh my gosh - not much cheaper, and a 26 hour trip, the last 3 1/2 of which are on a bus. Yes, on a bus. Taking such an excursion with a 6 and 7 year old began to sound like one of Dante's circles of hell. So, we thought, we could drive. Yes drive! We could see the South. Hmmm.... then we'll need to pay for hotels. The Professor to the rescue - we can camp! Yes - camping! And then we remembered that in the summer (when such an excursion would need to take place) the South tends to get a tad warm. And they have really big bugs.

Surprisingly, we thus hopped back onto the airline sites, and said airfares began looking much more reasonable. We found some flights that would work, and got ready to book. Then The Professor calls me over to the television and we see this:

(Credit: Janis Krums)

What an amazing story - even more amazing that everyone was safe. I couldn't bring myself to book the flights last night, although it did occur to me that airlines should be offering a substantial discount to anyone who booked that day.

We'll get back on that horse and book soon, although I have the distinct feeling that the little voice in my ear will be a bit louder on the flight. Fortunately, this time around my children will probably drown it out.

Taking the Plunge

That phrase often brings up thoughts of doing something new and exciting, but not so much the way I heard it this morning from the vicinity of my bathroom: "Mommy, somebody's toothbrush took the plunge!" Now, being a bathroom, there really is only one location that one would describe a toothbrush "plunging" into. And I'll give you 3 guesses whose toothbrush it was....

Here at Chez Necessity, we suffer from a shortage of space. I have, therefore, placed a little shelf on the back of the toilet to hold toothpaste, toothbrushes (for some inane reason, 3 out of the 4 toothbrushes in this house have a bulbous base which will not fit into the toothbrush holder mounted on the wall), shaving cream, and the like. While this storage solution works, it allows for the unfortunate possibility of something falling into the toilet.

The Professor (and unfortunately me) found this out one evening in rather a dramatic way. I was awakened from a sound sleep by my husband whispering lovingly in my ear, "I just accidentally flushed one of the kids' toothbrushes down the toilet." If such a sentence has never been whispered to you in the middle of the night, let me assure you that it will wake you up right quick. Hoping against hope, I stuck my hand in the toilet to see if it was there. It was not. All the while, the question that is buzzing around my head is how it would be possible for someone to flip a toothbrush into the toilet while simultaneously flushing said toilet, but apparently this is possible.

I'm not a terribly handy gal, and The Professor, while very clever and witty, is less handy than me. Not knowing if there would be dire consequences if one flushed the toilet while a toothbrush was wedged inside (and absolutely not wanting to clean up a flood at 1:00 in the morning) I decided to go visit my ever available and helpful friend Google.

I must tell you, it's quite astounding to read about the various objects that people have flushed down their toilets, but the only useful information I gained was that if it was indeed stuck, the only way to get it out would be to remove the toilet. At this point, I decided to wait until morning to find out if we were indeed in such a bind. I wasn't worried about my children accidentally flushing in the night, as they don't seem to know what actually makes our toilet flush (leading to the oft asked question, "Whose poo is this?") and I crawled back to bed.

The next morning I held my breath, pushed down the handle, and.....it flushed. Wow. I guess a child-sized toothbrush is just short enough to get around that curve in the toilet. It was one of those toothbrushes that blinks while the kid is brushing so that they know when to stop.

I still wonder if somewhere in the vast pipe system of Westchester there is a little red toothbrush blinking on and off, waiting to be rescued.

Holiday Lessons Learned

Well, although the holidays are officially over, I seem to still be celebrating them. Of course, by "celebrating" I mean carrying around the several extra pounds I managed to pack on in a breathtakingly short amount of time.

I am a person with absolutely no self-control when it comes to delicious (but completely horrendous for me) food. Armed with this knowledge, I do my best to avoid bringing such food into my home. This plan works pretty well the majority of the time, and then the holidays hit. Not only do people bring me wonderful things to eat, but I make candy for friends and family. Thus, my generally ascetic kitchen cabinets are filled for several weeks with crunchy, salty, fatty, sweet, delicious, awesomely awful for me tidbits. And, shockingly, when I eat this food all day long, my pants no longer fit.

My solution to all of this was to take out about 19 yoga/pilates DVD's from the library. Unfortunately said solution has not involved placing any of these DVD's into the player and actually doing any exercise. Is it odd that I'm shocked when the scale continues to read the same number every morning?

Also, on a related note, eggnog makes an awesome coffee creamer. Just thought you'd like to know.

It's Official - Everybody's Got Their Crazy On

Got to love the holiday season. Some things about this time of year are wonderful, like holiday lights, and eggnog (oh my gosh, do I love eggnog), but other things are less delightful. Things like the Target parking lot. I keep thinking that we're still in November, and not just about a week away from Christmas. Thus, I thought I would just run in to Target and grab a couple of things - not even Christmas related urgent-type things. Duh.

Not only is the parking lot stuffed full of monster SUV's, everybody's just a tad on edge because they too have just realized that Christmas is just a little over one week away. This causes normally sane people to become a bit less sane. Quite a bit less sane, in fact. It's the holiday crazy that makes 9 SUV's think they can all have the same parking space, and instead of giving up and looking for another, they all clump up together beeping their horns, which of course echo beautifully in the concrete parking garage, and making charming gestures to one another.

It's always a joy to see the Christmas spirit in action. Fa La La La La, La La La La.

Crazy Eyes, Part Duh

Well, it's still the day before Thanksgiving, and I'm still feeling a bit under the weather. For the record, when you're really exhausted and you're trying to decide which you should do first - nap or make piecrust - pick nap.

I chose unwisely, and decided to get the piecrust out of the way, and apparently I am incapable of reading a recipe and realizing that 1/4 pound of butter and 1/4 cup of butter aren't the same thing, and that when you only put 1/4 cup of butter in the piecrust and then add the water, it doesn't form anything resembling piecrust. And when you realize your mistake and try to add the other 1/4 cup of butter after the fact, it sort of just globs all over the outside. If this were for my family, I would roll it out and move on, but as I am bringing it to someone's house, I wrapped up the first try and stuck it in the freezer (for us to enjoy at a later date) and made another, complete with the correct amount of butter. Now for that nap - I hope it fixes me, but I don't have high hopes....

Crazy Eyes!

I'm stunned that tomorrow is not only Thanksgiving, but we are now less than a month away from Christmas! I've been subbing, which is great, but I'm still getting the hang of how to get things done 'round the house while I'm not in it! Thus, I headed out to the grocery store this morning, since I had yet to buy any of the food we will actually be consuming tomorrow.

Our Trader Joe's opens at 9:00, and when I got there at 9:10, it was already full of people pushing carts around the store with "the look" on their faces. I know that look well; it's the one where you know you have to get 9 jillion things done, and time is running short. Everyone was hovering around the potatoes and squash looking somewhat unbalanced, so I grabbed what I needed and got out quick.

Now I'm home with my groceries, enjoying the quiet of my house, getting ready to make some pumpkin pie (boy do I love pumpkin pie!), and trying to ward off yet another cold. I was in a 5th grade classroom yesterday, and the incredible amount of slurpy noses was not to be believed. Handwashing is our friend....

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Well, There's More Room Now

I've been trying to get some motivation going, but it's been a hard road. Miss Serious has been having some insomnia issues in the middle of the night (we're talking being awake for 2-3 hours), thus causing me to have a serious case of exhaustion and sleep-deprived stupidness. She's gotten back on track, but my body hasn't fixed itself yet.

I decided that it would help motivate me to clean/declutter all the little hidey holes in our apartment by taking photos of the mess so I could do a before/after thing. I was hoping that this would keep me in the cleaning spirit, as opposed to what usually happens, which is that I clean out one area, and am so pleased with myself that I decide that's enough for a while (which invariably ends up turning into next year...). Well, I took my pictures, and decided yesterday that I should tackle my bedroom closet. It has become the repository of much more than clothes - anything that doesn't seem to have a home ends up getting shoved in there. Here's a lovely before picture:


And a charming during shot (where did all these clothes come from? I only ever wear 4 things):


And finally, after:


Now there's lots of space. Unfortunately, this is partly because a lot of the items are now in a garbage bag (I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of those). This is because they are apparently delicious. Especially cashmere. Now, I don't come by cashmere easily. Anything I own is the result of a wonderful gift, usually from my mother who hunts up these unbelievable sales. Thus, one can understand my extreme sadness when I opened up my plastic, underbed container and found not one, not two, but about 97 holes in some of my beautiful sweaters. I had dutifully dry-cleaned said sweaters (took off the plastic - ahhh, lesson learned) and placed them in an airtight storage box. Unfortunately, there were either little creatures already in the box, or in something else that was packed up with them, and they spent the summer feasting on cashmere and merino wool. They also enjoyed items in my closet, including some hand-knit elbow length fingerless gloves, which I have since washed, frogged, and salvaged the yarn for something else.

So now, all my yarn is in plastic bags, every item in the closet has either been washed or vacuumed, and every nook and cranny in there has also been vacuumed. I'm trying hard to look at the silver lining, and I do enjoy being able to find and replace clothes in my closet without physical injury to my fingers. I also found a lot of wonderful things tucked away (some old pictures, my HS diploma, and the like) that made me smile, so the day wasn't a total loss. Now, on to the kids' closet...