If I had to choose my least favourite month, I would easily say November.  I enjoy warm weather and hot weather and that month is too far away from the next spring and summer also the warm sunny days of fall disappear with November when the Vancouver rain socks you in and the days are dark and short.  I have always thought the song Cold November Rain was appropriate for Vancouver. September is one of my favourite months.  The weather is warm and the days are still long but the craziness of summer has passed and life comes a bit more slowly.  Summer isn’t a tucked away memory; it is right there top of mind.  October is also beautiful with the sun continuing to shine nearly every day.  Each year I expect the weather to turn in October and each year I’m pleased with how long the rain holds off. 

Today dawned grey and wet.  I glanced at the calendar.  I have one week of October left but you wouldn’t know it for looking outside.   My kids and I had plans to hit the family drop-in centre up the road, I figured with the rain I’d better drive.  As we were getting ready to head out I glanced out the window again.  It was coming down in sheets, hitting the sidewalk out front of our house and bouncing back up again.  I can’t imagine it raining any harder than it was.  So, I’m not sure why it struck me to walk to the drop-in but that’s what I decided.  I started bundling up the kids in rain gear and a waterproof stroller cover.  I grabbed my rubber boots and slicker and we set off. 

As we set off down the street I held my son’s little two-year-old hand tightly in mine.  As we approached a particularly enticing puddle I felt him pull against my hand.  I grabbed a hold a little tighter.  I have never let him walk unaided out in the world of cars and busy streets.  Although we have tried many times to teach him the urgency of “Freeze,” he has yet to completely grasp the concept.  As he struggled against my hand, the puddle calling to him, I decided it was time to let go.  I let his tiny hand slide from mine and he went straight for the puddle, jumping and splashing like a, well, a kid set free.  With one eye on him and the other on traffic along the road I surveyed his level of risk as only a mother can.  Minimal, I decided.  I breathed a bit and let him keep on running ahead of me.  He bent over and picked up a big huge Maple leaf, bigger than his head.  He squealed and searched for another.  His enthusiasm was infectious.  I was enjoying this wet, sopping walk far more than any car ride I can imagine.

Suddenly, almost as if my son had just realized his freedom, he glanced back at me and smiled a perfect wet smile.  Then he said “C’mon Mommy,” and reached his little hand up to me.  I slipped my hand back in his and decided that a wet and soggy November could come any time it wanted to.

To My Incredible Midwives Janice, Lehe and Kat,

Today, my beautiful Nia is six months old.  She is a quiet baby; she always seems to be thinking and studying her surroundings.  For now she is complacent and reflective but we’ll see – she may actually be vivacious and full of energy.  Time will tell I suppose.

I wanted to thank all three of you for the care I received during my pregnancy, delivery and through Nia’s early days.

Janice – I liked you immediately and you also helped me through the worst flu I’ve ever had.  I so appreciate your concern and your thoughtful pro-active approach to my recovery.  I still tell people how much time you spent on the phone walking me through the path to recovery.  It is a rarity in healthcare to find a practitioner committed to care outside of the “normal office visit” but I suspect taking a surprise phone call from a sick patient and spending over 20 minutes on that call is your normal.

Lehe – you were the first person I met at Pomegranate.  Up until our visit I was trying to decide who to entrust with my care and you made the decision easy.  I felt immediately comfortable with you and your warmth and natural easy way.  I don’t usually trust people immediately but your capabilities won me over from the start.   We also seemed to spend a lot of time together late in my pregnancy – and I thank you for your bucket full of suggestions to make life a little easier.

Kat – by the luck of the draw you were able to deliver my beautiful little girl.  I thank you for being a rock through that process.  You were a helpful friend when required, an effective negotiator when required, and of course, when required you told me exactly what I needed to do!  And although the labour and delivery were mine, I also appreciate the way you included my husband.  He was my appointed support and coach and we felt that not only was his role respected but that you and he (and I) were always on the same page.  We both took that to mean that you knew in advance what I wanted in my delivery and were trying so very hard to facilitate it.  Luckily, in every way, I had the delivery I wanted.  I can tell how much you love what you do and you do it so very well.

Thanks to the three of you and the care I received I am now an advocate of midwifery care and especially Pomegranate Midwives.  Finding good pre-natal care means finding someone you like, someone you trust to work on your behalf and someone whom you feel is competent and qualified.  Not an easy task – but luckily I found it three times over.  

With gratitude and many thanks!

Why is it so hard to make friends as an adult? I suppose relationships are more complex. I suppose we aren’t forced into one classroom and therefore one group of people for a whole year as we were as teenagers or children.

I met a woman that I’m interested in being friends with. She brings her two kids to the Strong Start Program at our local elementary school. Her son is two months older than mine and her daughter is six months older than mine. She lives in my neighbourhood. She wears clothes that I would wear, I even love her watch. She and I have similar views on wanting to be home with our kids and the way she interacts with her children is quite similar to the way I interact with mine. Some would say it’s a match made in heaven. We seek each other out when we arrive at the program and chat frequently throughout, but it stops there.

I have room in my life for more friends. I grew up 3,000 kilometres away from where I live and spent most of my adult life 1,000 kilometres away from here – so all of those friends are still good friends but they aren’t day to day friends. Most of the friendships I have here are through work and are therefore professional associations. Those women are women I very much enjoy spending time with but it is on a different level. I could use a friend that won’t laugh at me if I have peanut butter in my hair or if I forget to put the tea bags in our tea. I’d be nice to have a friend with kids and who is in a similar life phase. This woman fits the bill.

It will take a big leap to bring our relationship to the next level. One of us will have to invite the other to an event or for coffee and that feels quite scary. It’s like dating all over again – and one of my favourite parts of being married is not having to date. When we leave each other at the door to the play area it feels like we are both thinking – “Okay, enough’s enough. When are we going to just take the leap and push this acquaintance stuff to the next level and maybe, just maybe, become friends?”

I have an old friend back in Ontario with a six year old daughter. They were at the park recently when her daughter approached a little girl playing on the swings. They quickly swapped names and the other little girl said “Wanna be friends?” Pretty simple.
If only it were that easy at 36…

My bosses called me in for a meeting at work this morning.  With five months left in my maternity leave I was certain they were bringing me in to let me go. 

I don’t hate my job, I don’t love it either but as far as jobs go this one wasn’t bad.  I figured I could do much, much worse and I like my bosses and my team.  My responsibilities are great and the pay is ok (doesn’t everyone always want more?) but it’s a long commute on public transit and it isn’t an industry I’m passionate about.  If my husband (my loving, generous, extraordinary husband) made just a bit more money or if we had just a bit less in the way of bills I would absolutely, certainly 100% stay home with my kids.  But he doesn’t make more and we don’t have fewer expenses so it’s off to work I go.

I’ve been with this organization since before I had kids, before we were married when I was just shacked up with no mortgage and just a black lab puppy and a really nice TV to our names.  These people have seen the transformation of my life from self-centred marathon runner with a penchant for Southern Comfort to a focused mom of two with the body to prove it and a penchant for red rose tea.  I miss them while I’m not working but I really don’t miss working.  Since I’ve been off I’ve been trying to get some ideas generated to come up with some alternate solutions to returning to a 9-5 gig a leaving my (gulp) beautiful children in daycare.  Can I work for myself?  Can I work part-time?  Can we sell our house and cars and live off the proceeds?  Nope, so it’s off to work I go.

Therefore, obviously, it’s with mixed emotions that I walked in this morning.  On one hand I don’t really want the job – but on the other I need a job so it may as well be the one I have.  Times are tough – did I really want to spend my last few months of maternity leave job hunting in a tight market?

Well darn if they didn’t offer me a better job!  I was so shocked, so, so shocked.  I was relieved to hear that I didn’t need to find another job but I also felt disappointed.  I was almost hoping that if they let me go that it may force my hand at finding a creative solution to the dilemma of a wanting-to-be-home working mom, or maybe they’d offer me some part-time high-paying position that would solve all my problems.  Instead they offered me a great job with better pay.  Ughhh.  At this moment (2 hours after getting the news) I am so torn.  I want to be excited about this job but I just can’t be.  I feel empty.  I feel sad.  I don’t want to leave my kids.  But I have to work anyway so why not take this job and reap the rewards?  I guess I just need some time to adjust.

I saw a woman smoking yesterday.  Not really a big deal, unfortunately I’ve seen lots of women smoking.  What makes this one remarkable was that she was pregnant.  As she threw her head back to exhale her obvious baby belly protruded that much more.  I was disgusted.  How selfish.

It made me think of all the hard work to come for this woman, the forcing yourself out of sweet sleep - again - to run down the hall and calm a screaming infant, the nights out with the gang that go unattended because childcare isn’t available, the digging deeper than you knew you could to find patience with a two-year-old throwing another fit in Wal-Mart, the requirement to put your life (career, education, friends, ambition, travel or whatever) on hold because that baby is 100% dependant on you.  I think about all the hard work to come for that woman.  If she can’t quit smoking for the health of her child now – how will she handle the demands of parenthood to come?  It makes me feel sorry for her.

I don’t need to go into the host of reasons anyone should quit smoking, every one of us knows the perils involved.  Which is exactly my point – there is zero chance of that pregnant woman not knowing that she should quit and not knowing the reasons why.  So, it’s far from a matter of education.  It is simply a matter of choosing to take the easy way out.  She chose to go outside and light that cigarette and puff away on it.  She chose to put her baby’s health at risk.  She selfishly chose to take that course of action.

Normally I have a live and let live philosophy.  You take care of your business; I’ll take care of mine but not in this case.  In this case, I did pass judgement on this woman.  The disgust smacked me right in the face.

Now I know there are people who may read this and think “yes, but it’s so hard to quit.”  My answer to that is “So what?”  Sure it’s tough but that’s what you do as a parent.  You do all the tough stuff and then some because you love your kids and want the very best for them.  At least that’s what the unselfish parents do.

I have a friend who is due with her first child any day now.  She may be in labour as I write this or she may go another two weeks before she gives birth.  Only time will tell.

I was just about to send her a quick note to tell her that I was thinking of her and to wish her luck in the late stages of her first pregnancy.  But I stopped myself.  Would sending such a note make me a first class hypocrite?

At the tail end of my first pregnancy, I received countless phone calls from well wishers asking how I was doing and if there were anything to report.  After a while I simply stopped answering the phone.  If there were anything to report I would have reported it by then.  Did my friends and family really think I would have a baby and NOT tell them?  It was hard enough not to spend every second wondering if and when the baby was coming, I didn’t want to have to talk about it too. I was so irritated.  But, I was 39 weeks pregnant and irritation is par for the course at that point. 

When my second pregnancy rolled around I was purposely vague with the dispensing of my due date.  Late March – probably early April was the standard response to “When are you due?” When I knew full well this baby would be born in mid to late March.  I was constantly pressed for the actual date but remembering my ire the first time around I just wouldn’t budge.  Around March 15^th the phone calls and e-mails began.  Some of the titles were “Just checking In” or my favourite “No baby yet?”  Geez.  Already?  I guess I should have outright lied and said I was due April 10^th to completely avoid the annoyance.

However, here I sit thinking of my friend on the edge of the most life altering, insanely tiring, fantastically wonderful time of her existence and I’m excited for her; really super excited.  We aren’t even close friends, I really like her and we’ve gone out for lunch once together but mostly she is the “wife of one of my husband’s oldest friends” kinda friend.  Not the “I can call at 3:00 am for no reason” kinda friend.  But despite that lack of closeness I want to reach out and share in her excitement.  Maybe I just want to welcome her to the club and tell her about labour and diapers and vaccinations and play dates – but she’ll get there on her own without any help from me.

This does give me some perspective on my friends and their eagerness before my babies arrived.  Perhaps they were anxious to welcome me to the club or were simply excited and wanted to share some of that with me.  I feel a touch bad for closing that door but not bad enough that I won’t stretch my due date a bit if I ever do become pregnant again and not bad enough that I will be ridiculous and ask my friend if she has had the baby yet.  But I do want to tell her how great it’s going to be and that she will survive labour and may even go on to do it again.  Maybe I’ll skip the e-mail…maybe I’ll just send her the link to this blog instead.

I hired my first babysitter today.  A young girl/woman (she’s 19 – so what does that make her?) that lives four doors down.  I don’t know anything about her except that she has a nice family.  Her mom is super friendly and her dad shovels the sidewalks for all of the neighbours in the winter.  Her name is Megan and she is the oldest of four kids.  When I first spoke with her about sitting for us she was keen but super quiet.  She still hasn’t talked much since then.  I gravitate toward people who are confident but I’m not sure her quietness is linked to self assurance – I think maybe she just doesn’t have much to say…

She and I put my two year old son down to nap together and then I left her with a bottle to get the four month old down.  She had the baby asleep before I had my shoes on and could walk out the door.  I was impressed.  As I left, I was feeling hopeful that things might go well for her.  I called out another “phone me for anything” over my shoulder – but I didn’t really think she would need to.  I was just going down the road a few blocks to the library to get some writing done.  I thought it would be a good initiation for my kids and Megan.  My oldest has been in daycare and my mother in law watched the toddler and baby one afternoon when my daughter was just two months but other than that we’ve had zero babysitters and it’s time that I had some relief on speed dial.

I had been driving for about 30 seconds when my cell phone rang – I held my breath and glanced at the caller id.  It was my husband.  “How did everything go?” he asked.  I filled him on the details and told him I was just about to pull into the library.  “Don’t” he said, “meet me somewhere for lunch.”  I laughed.  “You want to pay a babysitter so you and I can grab fast food on your lunch break?” I asked.  “I can’t think of a better reason to pay a sitter” he said.   How could I argue with that?  I met him at Quiznos five minutes later.

We were just wrapping up our meal when my cell rang again.  “Home Calling.”  Uh-oh.  This could not be good news.  “The baby is screaming and just won’t stop.  Any ideas?” Megan asked.  Her desperation was quite apparent even though she tried to sound calm. “I hope you don’t mind” she continues “but I called my mom.  She is here now and neither one of us can figure out what’s wrong.”  Okay now her desperation is very evident.  After running through a laundry list of ideas we settled on trying to heat up a bottle in a pan of warm water.  She hung up to try my suggestion.  I felt so bad for both Megan and my little girl, whom I could hear screaming in the background.  The next 20 minutes ticked by with every second taking forever.  Figuring enough time had passed I picked up the phone and called home.  Trying to sound casual and breezy I asked how it was going.  I couldn’t hear any screaming in the background, but maybe my daughter was just taking a breath.  “Good” Megan answered, “She’s eating with my mom right now.”  Phew.

I carried on with my day and returned home two hours later to find my son and daughter smiling and happy.  Megan was a bit anxious to leave but that could have been for any number of reasons.  On the way home I stopped by the flower shop and picked up tiny bouquets for Megan and her mom.  I wanted her to know that I know it can be rough when the baby cries but that I liked her and trusted her and most importantly – I want her to come back.  I hope it worked…

The PNE opened on Saturday.  I haven’t been in years but we’re going this year.

I grew up near Toronto and so we went to “The X” as it is called there or the Canadian National Exhibition just about every year when I was a kid.  I used to look forward to going more than I ever looked forward to Christmas or even my birthday.  Christmas meant a lot of work and hype for just one quick day and my birthday just meant too much focus on me.  I’m not a complete introvert – I just don’t like all the attention and fanfare.  But The X was a family thing, something we did in a group.

I loved to watch all the people, so many different kinds of people.  I could have sat on a bench in the sun and watched people come and go all day long.  I also loved to eat.  And eat I did - Cotton candy, hot dogs, root beer and of course mini doughnuts.  Even in Ontario we had mini doughnuts.  What had to be the best, the very best part of The X every year was the petting zoo.  I liked feeding the goats and patting the horses and watching the cows with their slow steady gaze.  I always wondered if they were as bored as they looked or if they were just happy standing there swatting flies with their tails.  I have very fond memories of wandering the fair with my family, memories of the feeling that the grounds were so big that we could never actually see it all.  I don’t think that we ever did.

So, now I live in Vancouver.  Have lived here since 1994 but have only been to the PNE a couple times.  I like it but somehow I always seem to be too busy, or am out of town or I seem to just miss it.  This year however, I am determined to go.  My oldest is two and a half and will enjoy some of what the fair has to offer.  Perhaps there will be a cool ride at Playland that he will remember, or maybe feeding a goat with grab his attention, or maybe the taste of mini doughnuts will hold on to him as I know it has done with so many – myself included. 

I generally am not a traditionalist.  I prefer to take life as it is right in front of me rather than be forced to stick to the rigidity of a tradition and what has come before just because it is something that once was.  But I’m softening on that.  I want my son and my daughter to experience some of what I have.  To enjoy some of what I have.  I feel I should give them the opportunity to try things and decide if it should be a tradition.  I’ve realized that I am the way I am with traditions somewhat because if we never have a tradition as a family then I’ll never be sad to see one end.  But in insulating myself from potential sadness I’m insulating my family from the possibility of something to enjoy and look forward to. 

So this year we’ll head to the PNE and maybe we’ll do the same next year and the year after that.  Maybe I’ll watch my children grow up in pictures in front of the wooden roller coaster or eating mini doughnuts or petting a goat.  Maybe I’ll be sad when my son decides he’s too cool to go to the PNE with his folks but maybe not – maybe I’ll just be happy to have those memories that this one tradition gave me.

Throughout the night of labour with my second child I can remember my midwife reassuring me in a gentle voice through my contractions.  She would say things like “You are doing so well.” Or “You can do this.” One phrase that sticks out in my mind the most however, is “Just a little more time and you’ll never have to do this again.”  I remember hearing that one many, many times. I knew in each moment that she spoke those words, with all the pain of contractions, and delivery, right in the middle of it all I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t do it again.  Having the two beautiful babies that I have was worth every pain and more.  If asked and pressed for an answer I would have answered that yes, I would do it again. 

Today my husband and I are divided on whether to have another.  My dear husband, Drew, thinks that we have two perfect kids and he wonders why I want to mess that up.  “I don’t want to mess it up,” I tell him, “I want to enhance it.”  It isn’t so much that I might want another baby it’s that I am yearning to have another child.  The want is stronger than that I felt with the two I have.  I wanted both of my kids immensely and still the urge is stronger now.  Perhaps with my first I became secure in my skills as a parent and with my second I am now confident in my skills to divide my time, energy and share my love.

Before we became pregnant the first time I wasn’t sure that I wanted children at all.  I knew Drew wanted to be a father and I knew he would be a great Dad.  I knew I could do it with is help but I was nervous in my abilities.  I’ve always been independent and impulsive.  I can be lazy at times and a child would not allow for any of that.  However, I am energetic and passionate about many things and I knew that my child and I could share curiosity and learn things together.  When I became pregnant the first month we tried, Drew and I were both flabbergasted, amazed, terrified and of course we couldn’t have been happier.  I tried to enjoy every moment of pregnancy because I was certain it would be my only one.  People would see my protruding belly and ask “Is this your first?” I would smile and say “It’s my last.”  How silly I was back then.

When my son was 12 months old, I had him in my arms while I was making dinner in the kitchen.  Drew came in and snuggled his head between both of ours for a group hug.  Before I knew what I was saying I blurted out, “I love him so much.  I can’t imagine not doing this again.”  Drew agreed immediately and one month later I was pregnant again.  However, wanting to grow our family didn’t happen quite that suddenly.  Over time I realized how much more I had to offer a child than just my love of exploring and learning new things.  I had love to give, I had a nurturer deep inside that was finally able to be set free.  That nurturing side wanted more of it.  As much work as it is to have a child the rewards are tenfold.  Still, I was nervous the second time around as well.  My son would be not quite two when my next would come around.  How could I possibly handle temper tantrums and a newborn and keep my sanity intact?  The answer is I just do.  Also, did Drew and I really have the capability to love another child as much as the first? Our son is funny and smart and could the next possibly be as cute? And of course those answers are yes and yes!

I don’t know what’s next for our family.  I’d like to say that maybe Drew will come around and I’m pretty sure that he’d like to say that I will.  Either way we have two beautiful kids to raise and I’m going to enjoy every second that I can – just in case these are my last.

My son went on his very first audition today.  I say first but I’m not sure there will be more to come. 

Since he was tiny he’s had huge piercing blue eyes and this little sideways grin that will probably steal a million hearts.  Top that off with the perfect ham and a great performer; he’ll do anything for an audience.  My husband and I think he’s the cutest little boy ever but we’re his parents we’re supposed to think he’s the cutest thing ever, but we’ve had several people tell us to get him modelling and acting.  Friends, family, even strangers on the street have told us he could pay for college with is good looks.  Hmmmm pay for college?  Okay – where do I sign up?

Back in the day – way back in the day – I did a little acting.  I was in a couple commercials in grade school and I participated regularly in live community theatre; I even went to a school of the arts studying drama for high school.  That being said I never had any concrete plans to take on Hollywood, I certainly dreamt of it but the reality was I just simply enjoyed acting.  It’s because of my experience that I delayed getting my son out there.  I didn’t want it to be one of those situations where I’m pushing my failed dreams on my kids.  It was a recent visit with our financial advisor to discuss the cost of college in 20 years that prompted me to put myself aside and see if my son would enjoy the experience as much as I did with (of course) the added benefit of contributing to his own RESPs.

I started by researching a few reputable agencies in Vancouver (there are a million to choose from!) that dealt specifically with infants and toddlers.  I sorted through some pictures of my son up close cropped them down and sent them out.  Two agencies replied the same day and the rest within the week.  All of them wanted to sign him!  How exciting! 

The first meeting with the first agent didn’t go so well.  My son napped in the van and woke just as we arrived.  He is not a morning person and always needs a few minutes to rouse himself, which he didn’t have the opportunity to do that day.  As we walked in the door I knew he was out of the running.  He hung back trying to hide behind me and as I gently suggested he follow me into the office he pitched a fit as two years have been known to do.  By the time we left her office fifteen minutes later he was his normal gregarious self waving goodbye and blowing the agent kisses.  She admitted he had the “right look” and the “right personality” but he would never get a casting agent to want him if he ever hung back like that.  She explained that there is no time for the kids to warm up and that the agent will require the child to go into the audition room alone – as in no mom or dad allowed.   The picture she painted didn’t sit too well with my husband and me.  I did remember going into my auditions alone – but I was in school at that time.  I hadn’t expected that my two-year-old would be required to do so.  We decided to put the whole thing on hold indefinitely. 

Then about a month later I got a call from another agency that I had turned down a meeting with.  She told me that they really wanted to meet our son and had an audition coming up that they wanted to put him forward for.  I hesitated and explained the meeting with the first agent.  This agent agreed that he would go in alone but that it wasn’t a scary place.  She told me that while their patience doesn’t last forever the casting agents do take their time getting the kids into the room and will give them a second chance if they refuse the first time.

We decided to go for it.  I told myself I’d take him once and if he wasn’t ready or if it just wasn’t for him that would be the end of it.

I made sure to get there a bit early to give him a chance to acclimatize himself to the situation.  I really didn’t need to.  Within about 30 seconds of arriving he was tearing around with a couple of other little boys as happy as happy can be.  I took the opportunity to assess the situation.  I watched as the casting agent came out of the audition room with a toddler that had just finished his audition and called the next name on the list.  She seemed really nice.  She high fived the boy that was leaving and tried really hard to make the little one coming into the room get excited about being there.  The mother of that child also tried as hard as she could to convince her daughter that the place she was headed was the most exciting and most fun place in the world.  But as two years have been known to do she pitched a fit.  I watched with extreme curiosity.  How would this play out?  Would the mother start pushing?  (I’ve seen the TV show Toddlers and Tiaras – I know how crazy moms can get.)  Would the casting agent get frustrated and move on to the next on the list?  I wanted to trust this woman – I would be sending my child off with her – I needed to know he was in moderately good hands.  I was rapt.

I was supremely happy to see the agent get down on the girl’s level and play with her right there in the hallway.  I was also supremely pleased to see her mom back off and let the girl do what she wanted.  Within moments the girl happily followed the agent down the hall and came out a few minutes later smiling and dancing.  There were six or seven kids ahead of my son and every one of them hesitated or fussed or screamed because they didn’t want to leave their mom.  I was horrified.  Why were these women here?  Why would they drag their kids off to something they didn’t want to do?  Why put them through this?  The thing is every kid left happy – they had obviously had fun in their auditions but was it worth the fuss to get them there?

I was nervous about my son.  How would he react?  These kids had all been through this before, my son didn’t have a clue what was coming.  Finally they called his name.  I walked him over to the door and said “You’re up.”  The agent asked him if he wanted to go and play with her.  He proclaimed “YES” and walked right in.  I could hear him laughing in the audition room and came running out with a big grin on his face.  I was so relieved.  Not so much because I thought he might actually get the commercial – but because he was happy the whole time.

I’m not sure if we’ll do this again.  He truly enjoyed the audition – but I was stressed and nervous the whole time.  I’ve decided not to pursue this any further.  If an agent calls we’ll go from there but I’m not going to push him into this.  Of course I say that now – but the next time an agent calls with an audition for him I may just take a look at his RESP balance and jump at the chance…