Category Archives: Motherhood

Vulnerable

Husband came to bed at 3:30 a.m.; I awoke, and he told me he’d hurt his back. It’s the same muscle that I’ve been dealing with, the Latissimus dorsi. (That daughter of ours is gaining weight, and she requires many hours of holding and jiggling.) My back has been mildly better, but yesterday I carried Claire in the Infantino sling while doing housework, and when we got to the pediatrician’s office I sat down and the muscle spasmed again. It hurt like hell. I used ibuprofen, Icy Hot, and the heating pad all day.

Now Husband is hurt. He couldn’t get comfortable and was still awake when I arose at 5:30 this morning. He’s been doing all the lifting I could not, so what will we do? And I’m worried about him too. I don’t want him to be in pain.
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Daunting responsibility + new baby + inexperience + two tired and physically compromised parents – local family – established close community = SCARED AND LONELY
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Although we have friends here who are willing to help us, I commented last night to Husband that I feel lonely and vulnerable out here. Now that he’s hurt, I feel more so. There is something about family that feels more secure — if they live nearby. With friends it’s equally difficult to get beyond the feeling we are imposing. With family, there is an assumption that imposition is acceptable (whether that’s proper to assume, or realistic, is up for debate). I have the idea that local family assistance is easier because it is one unit, and members tend to communicate and collaborate. We have lots of friends locally, but they don’t know each other, and it’s up to us to speak up and coordinate assistance. When we barely know what day it is, that’s hard.

Also, local family means that they have their own homes and routines. Visiting family is lovely, yet it’s also stressful for everyone, because they are away from their own spaces and routines, and their 24/7 presence in our home is disruptive too. They also are unfamiliar with the city and have limited or no transportation, whereas if they lived here that would be one less concern (and one more way in which they could help by running errands). It’s also costly for family members to travel; we’re mindful of this effort on their part. It’s just that local family equals shared history and familiarity with geography that provides a valuable infrastructure to life. (This is an argument to join a religious community and become really involved, I suppose. That would be the Unitarian Universalists for us. But we need the support now, and it takes time to cultivate intentional family.)

I know we have resources. I know we are better off than many. Yet I feel, in this moment, rather sad. The nearest blood relative (to one or the other of us) lives 875 miles away — my mother-in-law, and she’s in China at the moment. (She’s willing to visit us anytime we ask once she’s back. Yet again, see above paragraph.) My sister-in-law from Austin is visiting in early November. We very much look forward to that. Now we just need to live through each day and it’s challenges until then. No self-pity party for us. I’m acknowledging the situation and my feelings about it — now it’s time for chin-up, stiff upper lip, positive thinking, and finding solutions.

Three Dozen Reasons

(This post is more for myself and may be of zero interest to you.)

I Am Grateful For/That:

  1. I have a washer and dryer inside my home and don’t have to lug laundry to a laundromat.
  2. Ditto for the dishwasher to save us from hand washing dishes constantly.
  3. The invention of the baby bottle dishwasher basket.
  4. I’ve got good quality ground coffee on hand (and it’s even fair trade coffee).
  5. Claire is growing and is over her cold.
  6. Slipping into deep, sweet sleep with the occasional help of Dr. Ambien.
  7. It doesn’t matter that the house hasn’t been vacuumed in a month, because I have a newborn, and that’s a reasonable excuse.
  8. Managing to put clean sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom last night.
  9. Husband and I got long hot showers last night.
  10. Tivo. Costco.
  11. The 30 minutes I had yesterday to finish my pregnancy journal entries, complete with photos.
  12. The white noise CD Husband made (he found the sound files free on the web); when Claire is swaddled, rocked, and the volume is turned up sufficiently, it calms her immediately and helps her fall and stay asleep.
  13. Learning that noise comes in different colors.
  14. Other free stuff on the web, such as black and white shapes to print and show to baby.
  15. My sister-in-law is planning to visit from Austin sometime in the next month.
  16. Getting myself and Claire out for a short walk yesterday by myself (meaning I was able to lift the stroller and carrier and get us up and down the front stairs).
  17. Blogs such as: Cheerio Road, Antique Mommy, Cute Overload, I Can Has Cheezburger?
  18. Husband being such a collaborative and patient co-parent who is capable of seeing humor in many situations.
  19. Heating pads (and electricity) for my sore back.
  20. The magic of the baby swing. And D batteries.
  21. The look of recognition that I see glimmering in Claire’s eyes when I pick her up.
  22. Swaddling.
  23. Friends who come over on short notice to take a walk with me and Claire.
  24. Friends who bring us meals (home-made, deli, take-out, restaurant gift cards).
  25. The ten zillion old cloth diapers my mother sent us to use as burp cloths.
  26. Eucerin Aquafor healing ointment (great diaper rash preventive and general baby moisturizer).
  27. Adjusting to Claire’s crying (still challenged by that, though).
  28. Claire’s fascination when I read aloud to her; she turns her face toward me if she’s in the swing and looks intently in my direction, although I know she doesn’t see clearly.
  29. Generous family leave benefits from Husband’s employer.
  30. No more itching of my C-section scar.
  31. Stella the cat and her equanimous personality.
  32. The many gifts, cards, and flowers we (including Claire) received celebrating Claire’s birth.
  33. I’ve lost all of the baby weight and now weigh less than I did at conception last December. It’s good to wear my old clothes again.
  34. The pain in my left knee has gone, as has the hip joint pain, thanks to the Relaxin being out of my system.
  35. The pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel syndrome is abating; I still can’t knit, but my hands don’t go numb holding a pen or the phone anymore, and there aren’t shooting pains up my forearms anymore.
  36. Claire smiles!! Real smiles in response to ours. She also coos and vocalizes more.

In The Interest Of Clarity

I’m doing better but am still challenged.

A new wrinkle developed a week ago that adds to my challenge somewhat. I pulled a muscle in my mid-back (at bra strap level) that has been made worse by lifting and holding Claire. At first it was a cautionary ache. I moved somehow a few days ago that exacerbated it. Now when I move certain ways a shooting stabbing pain can make me gasp or even cry out. I saw a doctor for it last week and was told to stretch. Not helpful. I’m using heat and Ben-gay.

Of course this means I still can’t drive or lift the stroller or carrier. First it was the C-section, now my back. Husband is off work two more weeks and can extend another two if needed; beyond that I don’t know, and I’m trying to stay present.

Husband and I are exhausted. He was up all night with her and went to sleep at 7 a.m. Claire is in my right arm now asleep. Put her down anywhere (crib, bouncer) and she wakes up and soon fusses herself into a state of Great Upset. We know she needs holding; she’s not aware that she’s even a separate entity. Even if we hold her 12 hours a day that’s still a 50% reduction from what she had before in my cozy womb.

So life is reduced to basics and I’m still fighting this (which isn’t helpful). I want to power through the day, taking walks, getting to the grocery store, keeping the dishwasher emptied and loaded properly, doing laundry, vacuuming. But I cannot do all this. There is no time or energy to think about anything that does not directly affect immediate needs: is Claire hungry, needing a clean diaper? Do we need to mix a new batch of formula, is there a clean bottle? Did we mail the rent? Dinner? There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer; never mind we’ve eaten pizza for the last four days for lunch and dinner. Remembering to get and send birthday cards (hell, even remembering birthdays), opening savings accounts for Pixie’s future, writing thank-you notes, knitting Claire a Christmas stocking, getting the annoying squeak in the Honda checked out — all not priorities. And if you ask us when we’ll get to them, the answer is we haven’t a clue, and that will remain our answer until it changes.

They say the first six weeks are toughest and it gets better and I’m holding Them to that.

Pics

Three fresh Pixie photos up at Flickr. She was three weeks old yesterday!

We had dinner with our friends, whom we have decided to designate as Emergency Backup Parents instead of godparents. We realize it’s a bulkier term to say, but we enjoy the cute humor (if you’ve ever read Dave Barry you will appreciate it), and it’s more accurate. M cooked a yummy pasta dinner. K held Claire to get her baby fix (M got a turn too).

By being with other people who aren’t flustered when Claire begins to fuss, I felt more relaxed with it too. This morning (up at 6 a.m., with her alone until 12:30 p.m.), was peaceful and pleasurable, with a little fussing sprinkled in. I’m also getting better at doing things one-handed — like making my morning coffee or getting a bottle for Claire. (Turns out that she hates the Infantino sling. She wants to be upright and to see stuff, although her neck isn’t strong enough to hold her head up.

I yearn for a nap and may take one since Husband is now up and cuddling with The Bean. I may just join them on the sofa in the loft and doze. Later we’ll take her out in the stroller for a walk.

Forward Motion

Action feels good to me. I realize control of externals (the world, other people) is an illusion, but I can direct my own intentions and behavior.

Friday morning I awoke after admittedly too little sleep, still feeling on the verge of tears, but also feeling less hopeless. (Please note: I think there’s a difference between feeling less hopeless and more hopeful. By the end of the day I felt more hopeful.) I proceeded to act on several fronts. I called my doctor and left a message. Husband had gotten up with The Bean (one of our many nicknames) and experienced how she is in the morning: Alert! Alert! Alert! He wasn’t exactly tuckered out, but it did make him start researching portable swings.

Shortly after noon we got out. We went to Target and purchased a portable swing. She loves the one we have so much; it’s a monster size and not easily moveable in our multi-level home. Plus we figured it would help when we go see friends. Since my aunt and uncle recently sent a money order baby gift, we decided to splurge. We also stocked up on more binkies and diapers. At home Husband assembled the swing and tried it, and The Bean responded positively and immediately.

Then we went to Purlescence, where Sandi and Nathania helped fit me with the Infantino sling for carrying Claire. It’s not an ideal sling, but it will do until I find another that fits my short torso.

After the yarn store, we went to Borders, where I purchased The Happiest Baby on the Block. The book offers strategies for calming crying called the 5 S’s, three of which we’ve been using:

  • Swaddling: wrapping tightly in a blanket because upset babies flail their limbs which contributes to a sense of vulnerability.
  • Side/Stomach: upset babies feel more insecure on their backs, but holding them on their side or stomach short circuits the Moro reflex that panics them. This is not used for sleep but in the process of calming.
  • Ssshhhing: replicating the white noise sounds baby heard in utero.
  • Swinging: jiggling baby on your lap, using a swing.
  • Sucking: offering a breast, finger, or pacifier for calming.

The book also has a lot of interesting tips, such as the need to meet baby at her level of vigor. For instance, if she’s hysterical, the Shhhing sound needs to be louder at first so she can hear it and become calmer. I tried it last night, and it worked.

I joined a Las Madres play group for babies born in 2007 and live in Santa Clara. I just need to find out when and where the group meets.

I’ve also recognized that I need to find a way to alleviate my physical response to Claire’s crying. I’m hard-wired to respond to my baby, but I’ve been surprised at how anxious the crying makes me, and at the physical discomfort I feel. It’s hard to describe. But then I remembered something. I was eight when my brother was born, and I remember for the first couple of years of his life, when he would cry, I would cry — not every time, but often. When he was born, I felt eager and proud to be a big sister, and I vowed (to myself) to protect him from bad things and bullies — a tall order for a petite girl who herself was often bullied by other kids. I adored my little brother. Even now, when I look at photos of him as a kid, my heart clenches at his cuteness. (Sorry if I’m embarrassing you, T.)

Also when I was a child, upon seeing babies in public I felt a rush of love that felt like heartache; I would say a prayer that they never be hurt by a harsh word or act. I realize now that I was projecting my own wishes for myself as well. I just felt so intensely. In my adolescence and early adulthood I toughened myself to the point where I felt negatively toward children and the idea of having them — this was overcompensation. Sometime in my thirties that part of me healed to the degree that it could, and now as a mother, I’m approaching it from a new angle.

(Of course, I wasn’t an ideal sister. When I was a teen, I didn’t play Mousetrap with him as often as he asked, and I considered him a pest sometimes. I also treated him crappily on occasion. I remember one time: I was 19 and still at home, going to community college. He was 11, and we had a fight before he left for school that morning. I did something I should not have, and he ran out of the house screaming I hate you!. I spent the rest of the day on the campus skipping my classes and crying, agonizing over what I’d done and certain that I’d be a horrible, abusive mother. Eventually I forgave myself, but I haven’t forgotten, although my brother probably has.)

So anyway, I’ve concluded that I may simply be acutely sensitive to crying sounds. Last night I used earplugs to take the edge off. I could still hear Claire very well; the plugs muffled just enough of the sound to make her crying bearable. (An aside: Claire also seems to have incredible hearing and we joke that it’s her superpower. She startles and flinches at sounds that aren’t very loud, like someone in the room coughing once. I don’t want to read into this and assume she will have the same sensitivity, but we noticed this reflex within the first day of her life.)

By the end of the day, I felt considerably more solid and brighter. My OB called in the evening and we had a long chat. She provided me with a couple of referrals for support groups. We discussed my medicine dosage and decided that if in a week or two my efforts at social support weren’t enough, we would increase one of them. We agreed what is crucial is that I not isolate. Husband is willing to help with this in whatever way I need. It was also gratifying to hear her tell me I’m a dream patient in this regard, because I’m aware and proactive and willing to take steps.

It also helped that people left such supportive comments, and that my mother-in-law and mom called. I also heard from my siblings. This evening we’ll see our good friends who are Claire’s godparents (for lack of a better term). Intellectually I understand the positive comments and know I’m being a good parent; my task is to internalize it in my core, and this takes time and repetition, as well as acceptance (of this as the truth, of my vulnerability, of the fact that this just is).

One observation was made that I’m flagging for myself. It was pointed out that writing on the blog, while it helps me, may also be risky. I’m in a different role now as a parent. There are people in the world who don’t understand depression, who are judgmental and self-righteous, and (I’m stealing this person’s words) who may feel justified in taking statements out of context and blowing them out of proportion because there’s a child involved. That’s true. It could happen. So I need to be mindful of what and how I write here.

I would like to think that by writing honestly, it helps not only me, but other readers who feel alone in what they experience. I know that my blog presents me in a certain way: as accomplished, multi-faceted, and many other positive things, and that it can be validating for someone to read how even such a “together” person can also struggle. Sharing the ugly helps dispel either/or thinking: you’re either a good mother or a bad one, you’re either professionally successful or a failure, etc. The road to wholeness is understanding that life is more than either/or, it is both/and. Yet I need to protect myself and my family as well. I don’t know exactly what this means in terms of what I share here, but I’m heedful.

Onward…

It All Comes Crashing Down

I thought I was doing well. I thought that knowing about PPD meant it wouldn’t happen to me. I even felt a little smug about this. I thought the fact that my depression is in remission and managed with medication meant I was immune.

But since Claire caught a cold (increased need, fussing, major screaming, increasingly colicky behavior) and my mother-in-law left, and since I’ve been taking the early shift (arising at 6 a.m. and caring for her during her most alert time of day), and because I find myself in physical pain to hear her crying, today I took a deep dive. Postpartum blues is a common problem that subsides about two weeks after giving birth. It manifests in frequent, prolonged bouts of crying for no apparent reason, sadness, and anxiety. Rest and extra household help are usually enough. However…

When you are afraid to take your baby in your arms because you fear you cannot appease her, something’s wrong.

When fears of your baby dying arise even though she’s healthy, something’s wrong.

When you experience mostly anxiety and very little joy caring for your infant, something’s wrong.

When you scream at your husband to fuck off because he’s trying to calm the screaming baby for you and said no to your request to let you try because he’s trying to give you a break, something’s wrong.

When you tell your husband to go to hell and repeatedly say fuck you before raging down the stairs and out of the house (for a walk because you can’t drive yet), something’s wrong.

When you want to lash out physically at someone (I didn’t do it and the urge was targeted at Husband, not the baby), something’s wrong.

When you take a nap and upon waking wish you didn’t have to wake up, something’s wrong.

When you cry and cry (whether it’s hysterical sobbing or rivers of tears quietly coursing down your face), something’s wrong.

When the following idea makes the tiniest bit of sense to you:

When a woman with severe postpartum depression becomes suicidal, she may consider killing her infant and young children, not from anger, but from a desire not to abandon them.

something most definitely is wrong.

I’m not suicidal or about to hurt anyone else at this point. But I am frightened by what’s happening in me.

Tonight Husband drove me to Purlescence with Claire so I could be among my women friends. It was a tonic to be there. They cooed over Claire and were empathetic while I sat and cried. I brightened up over the hour, and laughed. I got some advice. I left feeling more solid. (Soon I will be able to drive again, probably next week.) Husband and I plan to have more outings — to see friends at their home for supper, to go to the bookstore.

I will also call my OB tomorrow to see what she recommends. Maybe I just had a Very Bad Day, but I think it is crucial to act so it doesn’t turn into postpartum depression.

I’m doing the late shift tonight to see if that helps me. Claire will be fed soon (’round midnight) and then at 3 a.m. and Husband will arise at 6 a.m. while I sleep until noonish. Claire sleeps more at night. She’s asleep in my left arm right now. I’ve typed this entire post with my right hand — and I’m a leftie. Aren’t you impressed?

One last thought: I adore Claire. I love her beyond measure or comprehension.

More info on Postpartum Depression:

Postpartum depression is depression that occurs soon after having a baby. Some health professionals call it postpartum nonpsychotic depression.

  • This condition occurs in about 10-20% of women, usually within a few months of delivery.
  • Risk factors include previous major depression, psychosocial stress, inadequate social support, and previous premenstrual dysphoric disorder (see premenstrual syndrome for more information).
  • Symptoms include depressed mood, tearfulness, inability to enjoy pleasurable activities, trouble sleeping, fatigue, appetite problems, suicidal thoughts, feelings of inadequacy as a parent, and impaired concentration.
  • If you experience postpartum depression, you may worry about the baby’s health and well-being. You may have negative thoughts about the baby and fears about harming the infant (although women who have these thoughts rarely act on them).
  • Postpartum depression interferes with a woman’s ability to care for her baby.
  • When a woman with severe postpartum depression becomes suicidal, she may consider killing her infant and young children, not from anger, but from a desire not to abandon them.

At Last!

We joyfully announce the birth of our daughter!

Claire Georgia Harper
Date: September 8, 2007
Time: 12:49 a.m. PDT
Weight: 7 lb, 1 oz.
Length: 20 in

At this time I don’t intend to publish photos of my child on the blog for the whole world. However, I will upload photos to my Flickr account, which is http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindfulone/. (It may take a day or two to get them uploaded.) Photos of my babe will be given a designation so that only friends and family can see them. This means you need to:

  1. create a free account on Flickr if you haven’t already;
  2. designate me as a contact by going to my profile and in the upper right corner, clicking “add Mindful One as a contact”;
  3. which triggers an email notifying me, and then I’ll make you a contact with the correct status. It might take me a couple days to get to the email, so please be patient.

This most amazing event transcends words…

(note: This is being published by her friend Mark. Just wanted to note that Baby, Mother and Father are tired, but healthy and headed to sleep after a long day. We wish them a quick recovery and sweet dreams!)

At Little Less Conversation, A Little More (Contr)action*

It is now near 9:00 p.m. on Thursday. Below is what I wrote earlier today, but did not publish at the time because Husband asked me to wait and breathe a bit.
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Written Thursday morning around 9:00 a.m.

With the exception of a couple hours of dozing, I’ve been awake since 9:30 a.m. on September 5. I had more pain than I anticipated from the gel.

This post was supposed to announce we were leaving home to start the induction.

My OB said she scheduled the induction for midnight 9/6. But at the hospital Wednesday night (getting gel) we were told they don’t do inductions that way. We explained what our doctor had told us, and the nurse said she didn’t see on the schedule book that we were slotted in to come in at midnight. We were told to call at 6:30 a.m. Thursday to ask if there was room.

You know where this is leading, right?

I called at 6:30 a.m. and was told there is no room, all 12 are occupied. And oh, I’m scheduled to come in at midnight anyway. WTF??!! I explained what happened last night, that we were told that’s not how it worked and no record of that appointment was found. I was told to call back at 8:30 a.m. to see if there is room.

I just called at 8:33 and the charge nurse insisted that I was not scheduled until midnight September 7. I explained again, and she said, basically, “So sorry, but you’ll have to call at 11 p.m. tonight to see if we can take you. Or you can call your OB and reschedule for another time that’s more convenient.” More convenient?! I replied that I am at 41 weeks, 4 days, and it was my doctor’s request to schedule me. Her reply, “Perhaps you should call your OB and get things straightened out.”

End of call. I officially went ballistic. Husband is now taking over the job of calling people and negotiating things.

10 minutes later

Husband has just talked with our OB’s nurse. Nothing can be done; the hospital isn’t taking any inductions today. So we wait. I simply cannot find the humor in this. Someday it will make a fun story.
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I did manage to get some sleep, about three hours Thursday morning after I wrote this, until the roofers came back from 1:00-4:00, and then two hours more after they left. My OB called a few moments ago to check in and said labor & delivery was packed all day with laboring women non-stop but that it seems that things are quieting down. We talked a bit about the schedule mess and how crazy this all made me; she’s very empathetic, and I felt much better by the end of the call. The hospital might call us soon to come in. If we don’t hear by 11:00 p.m., we’re to call them and see if things are quiet enough. They may not be, in which case we just continue waiting. In the wee hours last night I had contractions 30 minutes apart for a couple hours, but nothing since. We’ll see.

I hope that the next post will be a birth announcement. I’ve written a draft and a friend is going to fill in the particulars about the baby. Any further posts regaling you about the actual birth experience will probably come much, much later. I’m certain I’ll be exhausted.

Oh, about baby photos. I’ll be posting them on Flickr, not the blog, and they’ll be visible to friends and family only. So if you have an account there, make me a contact and I’ll set your status to friend. If you don’t have a Flickr account, you can open one (it’s free). Once you create an account, designate me as a contact by going to my profile and in the upper right corner, clicking “add Mindful One as a contact.” This triggers an email notifying me, and then I’ll make you a contact with the correct status. It might take me a couple days to get to the email, so please be patient.

*Tip of the hat to Elvis.

Sigh

As is the way of life, the hospital doesn’t have room for us to come in at 6 p.m. as scheduled for the gel. A bunch of women in labor recently came in. The nurse said she’d call us in a few hours when a room opens up.

I don’t know if this means that we’ll go in and have to return at midnight or six hours after the dose, which could be 3 a.m. And of course there’s no guarantee they’ll take me at any scheduled hour if the rooms are occupied.

What is so frustrating about this is that I’ve been trying to rest and nap, as has Husband, so that we have some energy when all this begins. It got to 91F today here, so it was uncomfortable and we were unsuccessful with napping. The other frustration is that we are mentally focused on this event, on action, and now we’re stalled.

Husband is more jovial about this schedule set-back. I’m tempted to rant and cry. That’s really adult behavior, very mature and enlightened, I know.

Instead, I’ll close this post by noting that:

  • the roofers did not work on our roof today, so it was blissfully quiet (I don’t know if they’re finished and don’t care anymore).
  • Little One was active a lot today; I had cramps and backache, and she feels lower in my pelvis.
  • I’m reading a book of interesting essays.
  • there will be an end to this limbo in the near future.

Deep Inside

I have been richly nurtured. Nathania gave me a two hour massage in the cool quiet of her home. It was a time of peace and soothing. It was intimate and comforting. We bonded in a new way, like sisters, and I’m glad for this because it reinforces the foundation of affection and trust that will be so vital for us when she assists my delivery. And I was reintroduced to my body and touch after months of estrangement. (Husband is affectionate and expressive, yet the touch of massage opens one to a deeper connection with receiving.) Yes, pregnancy is a very physical process that makes a woman aware of her body. But all these months I have not been assertive about caring for my body in this way. The massage resulted in a connection with Now that I’ve not experienced since… well, since my last massage.

We spent a fair amount of time on my belly. She oiled it and gently pressed and slid her hands down to help the baby get a sense of the position she needs to be in. Little One was very responsive to Nathania’s touch. We talked to her, told her how much we want to meet her. In the soft light of the room, I sat semi-reclined gazing down at my full moon breasts and globe belly glowing with citrus oil. And you know what? I found it beautiful. I might have the “courage” to post a photo of myself in a bathing suit, but I’ve remained detached from my image and my body often in past months. During that massage I experienced my beauty.

We think she might make her debut this weekend (just as Liora commented). Then again, that might be wishful thinking. Regardless, I feel present to the moment, and I feel content — despite the fact that our roof, for whatever reason, remains unshingled and far from finished.

Chop Wood, Carry Water: A Mother’s Spiritual Practice

There is no right way. There is always a right now way.

I’m thinking of my mother’s life work (mothering four children) as I watch this and as I imagine what path I will soon travel. Karen’s book, Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood, is a small treasure — accessible, handy, and valuable. I have wanted to attend one of her talks but my schedule didn’t accommodate that. It’s a pleasure to see and hear her. You can read her too, at Cheerio Road.

The video is also at this link.