Ear-mergency

I've come across alot of hand instruments in my lifetime, but last night I had the privilege of meeting a new one - the ear curette. It's an interesting little tool that removes things, like BB's for instance, from auditory canals. You can even go to your local emergency room and watch the doctor use this device to extract an object from a small ear for a mere $75.

I'm just glad Brooks provides us so many opportunities to grow and learn from parenthood. That must've been what he was thinking about when he jammed the red BB in his ear. I blame myself here. I made BB retraction look easy when I cleared one out of his nose with my dental nipper last week. Next time I'll remember that he'll keep trying something until he feels the consequence of intense pain from dangerous activities.

But all is well. The air pellet has been retrieved and Brooks can once again hear from two sides of his head. I just wish we didn't have to hit the ER every time we want to teach a valuable lesson.

Various Things I've Been Doing

- Moving from brown to pink brick.

- Changing pink carpet, pink paint, pink everything to brown, go figure.

- Painting cabinets and placing antique finish. Do NOT try this at home if you have children or any kind of life whatsoever.

- Chewing massive amounts of ice.

- Searching through boxes for items that my husband wants. He's the one who packed them ALL but apparently I'm the only one who can put things away (please picture me smiling instead of fiercely biting my tongue.)

- Tiling kitchen backsplash with a Hannah Montana ruler. Emma's help is quite valuable in a pinch.

- Painting cabinets and placing antique finish. Do NOT try this at home if you have teeball, swim lessons, softball, and piano lessons to taxi for.

- Working to pay for all the things I've bought even though I really just want to be home putting my new house together.

- Meeting all sorts of plumbers, satellite installers, phone workers, painters, and other miscellaneous handy men. You can imagine how enjoyable it's been to have Tug around for all their visits.

- Writing checks.

- Daily trips to Home Depot. Some of the workers know me by name now. I've become so close to Kim in the paint department that I'm considering asking her to dinner and a movie.

- Painting cabinets and placing antique finish. Do NOT try this at home if you like to maintain any tittle of sanity.

- Wishing it were as "fun" as everyone says. No people, fun is taking the kids to Disneyland, staying up all night with friends, eating peanut butter bars 'til I'm sick, and watching Steve pull weeds while I facebook.

Just posting this little funny while I'm trying to get over my superstition about the blog.

Shut'r down?

Don't get me wrong, I still love the pump, but the darn thing got complicated just after I blogged about it. I swear this blog is a curse. I'm considering shuttin' her down. I'm more superstitious than I'd like to believe I guess. Anyway, I haven't checked everyone's blogs forever so don't feel bad if I'm not commenting. With the exception of medical research, I've basically abandoned the laptop. I kind of feel like I'm just writing to myself anyway but just in case I still have a few readers out there, this is what's been consuming my life:

As my Grandma would say Eye-yi-yi!! And for the record, DIABETES SUCKS!!!!

Pump UPdate

Forget Robbie, forget football, forget ice, forget Disneyland, forget taco doritoes, forget facebook, and yes, even forget peanut butter bars. I have a new love in my life -

I think this pretty much sums up how things are going at the Poll house. Keeping our fingers crossed...

Pump It Up

When I start getting too grateful for things, bad things usually happen so I won't say how happy I am that Brooks got his insulin pump yesterday. I'll neglect to mention how cool it is that he's been going about his climbing, jumping, wrestling, pretzeling, and etcetera as usual. He doesn't know it's there most of the time but found a dollar bill at the theater last night and figured a way to stick it in the pump holster - he's been selling it as a money holder and insulin device ever since. I'm slightly afraid of other creative ideas he may come up with but at least he's excited about it.

Brooks is still on the saline trial of the pump and we'll start sending insulin through on Monday. High five to whoever came up with the saline idea, it gives us a chance to practice and get to know the pump before he gets the real deal. If all goes as planned, he will only have 5 more shots, hoorah & hooray! We will have to move the pump site around every 3 days but he didn't even feel his first one yesterday. I didn't think Brooksie would appreciate me putting a pic of his tush on the blog so in case you can't picture it, this is what it looks like.
We can detach the tubing for sports and bathing at the little plastic circle area. This way when we're ready to reattach, he doesn't have to get a new site. It's pretty near the damn coolest thing I've seen in a long time, but you didn't hear that from me. Brooks picked a Utah Jazz skin so the pump looks something like a pager or cell phone. I think it makes him feel trendy or important, as it should. I'll regret to add that I'm anticipating great things from this pump. I'll be able to oblige to his snack requests at the touch of a button instead of pinches and pricks - it's ok if you are totally picturing Steve and I singing hallelujah at the moment.
I'll update on the progress once the insulin starts flowing. Until then, peace out y'all.

Reluctant Goodbye

It is with deep regret and sorrow that I write this post. My beloved Broncos made a monumental mistake today by trading Jay Cutler. I knew it was going to happen but the preparation did not ease the pain. I told Jeff that I wouldn't be attending a Broncos game this year without Cutler on the trigger. He said that I'm a Broncos fan before a Cutler fan. I told him this is true and because I'm a Broncos fan first, I know that the best thing for the team was to keep Jay Cutler. I will watch my team with a heavy heart this season, but I refuse to go to Colorado this year in protest.
I've been saying goodbye in my head all day to the pattern of the book Goodnight Moon, so I'll share what I see for the next few years of Denver football.

Goodbye season, goodbye reason.

Goodbye hope and hello mope.

Goodbye scrambles, hello shambles.

Goodbye good sense and goodbye offense.

Goodbye wins, goodbye grins.

Goodbye promise, goodbye goals, and goodbye visions of superbowls.

Goodbye completions, goodbye guns, and goodbye to sweet quarterback runs.

Goodbye schemes, goodbye dreams.

Goodbye drop backs and hello sacks.

Goodbye array, and goodbye Jay :(

We'll miss Jay being in the right color orange. He is a talented athlete and a great force for Type I diabetes. We wish him lots of wins and will remain big fans.

Twilight Before Christmas

I wish I would've seen this at Christmas time because it really makes me laugh. Aleesha and fam came over to watch Twilight last night and she couldn't stop laughing during the meadow scene because she kept thinking of this spoof. I've been hearing it in my head all day as a result. This actress does a perfect Kristen Stewart. Fun-ny stuff!

51 Weeks til Six Now

The glorious day came one week ago today - Brooksie finally turned five! He anxiously awaited turning five because that's Carlos Boozer's number and he's eager to start kindergarten in the fall. He's already asking how long until his next birthday :)
Tug's especially glad that Brooks turned five as well. With age comes maturity, and with maturity comes less torture. Luke slept over before we headed to Toad's Fun Zone. I love taking pictures of their sleepovers because they look so sweet and yet miserably uncomfortable at the same time.
Brooks also started swimming lessons this month. I wanted to get pictures of him in his new Mario Galaxy swim trunks because he was SOOOO excited when Val gave them to him. I couldn't get a good shot of them because he kept saying, "Mom, take one of me like this," as his body pretzeled the bar in such a manner that if he fell, his head would crack into two on the concrete. But I'm trying to loosen up. He started off to the park with MaryAnn and Keaton last week and I remembered that he didn't have sunscreen on his face. I was going to chase them down, but then I told myself that he'd be okay without sunscreen for an hour. It's hard not being uptight about things but I'm taking baby steps for my baby, because I know it's no picnic to constantly be stopped or chased around by glucose patrol. He asked me later if he could have some more cake and I hesitated, but then thought, "Who doesn't get to have as much cake on their birthday as they want?" So he ate and took the insulin like a soldier in the rough...again. It's your birthday Sweet Boy, and you're five, and you're the toughest little kid this side of the Rockies, and though I didn't see the battle we were going to have to fight, I would sooner die than ever give you back.

Flashback Friday and Better Times

It was Trav's last day of chemo and radiation almost exactly a year ago. We didn't plan it this way, but it happened to be the same night as Matchbox Twenty in Salt Lake. We bought the tickets months before we knew Travis' treatment schedule. We all had a great time that night. I stood, danced, and sang for every song. Kari danced through most of the songs with me but she sat for a couple numbers as well. I stood alone for a bit and then Trav stood up with me. I'll never know if it was because he was embarrassed that I was dancing by myself or if it's because he was feeling the groove, but the point is simply that he was here. Trav was fun, he always said little funny things and spoke with a soft, comforting voice. I remember being worried about him in the middle of the concert, I turned and asked him on a scale of 1 to 10 how good he was feeling. I can still hear his voice say, "Oh about a seven," and he nodded with content. I'd hoped he wasn't lying just so I would have a good time and not stress about him. Trav was like that.

Now twelve months later I'm writing Trav was instead of is and I'm crying about it. On that particular night, I thought we had many more years of doing things with Kari & Trav. I really thought he was going to lick the stupid cancer. Up to that point, everything looked positive and seemed to be going his way. Travis was never to sold on cruising the ocean but he'd changed his mind and we even considered the four of us going on a cruise in the fall or sometime this year. I know we would've had a good time doing that too, but it was not to be. I am finding myself thinking alot about Trav again and remembering. Trav thought we might forget him, but he was wrong. The best are not forgotten.

I'm posting videos that Lyndee took the night of our concert in hopes that I won't be sad when I think about him. I'll try to think about the smiles and laughs we had and how Trav said those were the best seats he's ever had at a concert. We were right in front of the blocks that Rob Thomas is standing on, doing his melting heartpat. The second video shows one of the quicker times that Rob pointed at us. Trav later told Karianne that we were fooling ourselves because Rob was only pointing at him. We sure miss you Trav.

Thank You Mr. President

I normally don't like the news, but today I loved it. President Obama lifted the ban of government funding on stem cell research. If I ever meet this great man, I will hug him with all my strength and thank him for acting so quickly on an issue that directly affects my son's life.

Most of you probably understand embryonic stem cell research, but in case you don't, let me try to educate a bit. Most embryonic stem cells are taken from fertility labs, NOT aborted babies. Embryonic stem cells are fertilized eggs that have NOT been planted in a uterus, therefore they do not advance to human life. Also, the likelihood of them becoming human life even after transplantation are rare because in-vitro has a below average success rate. In any case, embryonic stem cell eggs are never transplanted to a woman and are simply thrown to garbage when couples decide they don't want them anymore. There are adult and other types of stem cells that science uses as well, but the embryonic ones provide the best results because they are capable of more cell division and alot of scholarly stuff that I don't completely understand (Erin, you may correct me if I'm wrong here.)

So what does all this mean to me? Everything. If Brooks has an opportunity to have diabetes for 5 or 10 less years in his lifetime, it means everything to me. Type I diabetics and those with spinal cord injuries have the most to gain from stem cell research because these diseases are organ-specific and have shown the most promising results. Every Type I diabetic has a damaged Pancreas that no longer produces insulin and stem cell research has shown the strong possibility of reversing the damage by replacing or altering the impaired cells. Positive studies also been shown for Parkinson's and other diseases.

If you don't agree with me, that's fine. As Americans, we are entitled to our own opinions, but this is my blog and until you've had to give your child 4 to 5 shots a day, prick his finger twice that much, and tell him that he can't have a root beer or a piece of candy or a handful of goldfish crackers or ANY of the other wonderful things that most of us eat and feed our children at leisure, then it might be difficult to imagine just how much this means to my family. Yes, Brooks can eat all those things, he just has to provide a blood sample and another body part in which to give a shot first. Then we'll top that off with the fact that the required amount of insulin changes from day to day. I'll give him the same amount of insulin for the exact same meal one morning, and he'll do great, but other mornings, he'll go low or his bloodsugar will shoot up higher!!!!! Steve and I are daily glucose puzzle solvers. It's complicated detective work that no parent enjoys, but more important, that no child should have to go through.

That being said, I welcome encouraging comments or input, but this is a subject that I do not care to debate about. I will delete negative comments immediately because I am a Mom and because I said so! I would also like to add that I love cheerful and optimistic stories about others with Type I diabetes but if you have a tale of someone losing their eyesight, amputating a limb, dying of insulin shock, going comatose from DKA, and any of the like, please keep it in your vault. I've already heard it and wished I didn't several times over. I know numerous people don't understand but all of these things are uncontrolled diabetes and most can't occur unless it's mismanaged for many, many years. If you think your story may cause me worry, then I assure you that it will. I've already concluded that this diagnosis will take 20 years off my life and I certainly don't need reason to add more years onto the list. I'll consider it a miracle if I live to 60.

I may have had a chance to breathe a few more years but thanks to Bush, progress in the way of a diabetes cure was abruptly halted for 8 years. January 20th was a blessed day indeed. Thank you President Obama for recognizing, mentioning, and caring about children with Type I diabetes. Thank you for changing things and bringing hope back into my family's life, your letter is on the way, and I couldn't be more grateful that you're my president.

Ride it Like You Stole It

Well it's been nice knowin' ya all. I've decided to ride my mid-life crisis out on the road. True, this was Steve's original dream, but I'm fairly certain the Regulators just liked a reason to meet for face stuffing. Sure they printed their routes and mapped out their destinations but it was all a show. A show that must not and will not go on. The hygienators, on the other hand, were born to be wild.
Why you ask? Maybe because the leak about Denver possibly trading Jay Cutler pisses me off to the brink. I shouldn't have expected much from a coach that is 4 years younger than me, but I had hope. If they trade Cutler than I'm going to take a year off Broncosmania and distract myself by chasing the pavement. Or maybe I'm gettin' outta dodge just so I can take a shower without any interruptions. Hell I'd be happy to be able to go to the bathroom in peace. Or maybe I'm fleeing because all the viruses seem to have left and I want to go before they make a comeback. Maybe I'll even grab a beer or two along the way. My possibilities are endless on the open highways. Leaving my worries to the wind and knees to the breeze, ten four good buddies.

No Arizona

All the talk of my new book has struck me with the classic writer's block. I want to pen about sun and heat but I look outside and the white sends me back to reality. Why would two Hispanic, Catholics want to raise a family in Utah anyway? If my Grandma didn't like to have everyone so close to her, I think she'd want us in Sedona, where it's warm and viruses don't come your way every other week. She'd probably actually want us in Parkview, New Mexico, where she was raised, but the town is so small that I don't even think it registers on mapquest.

So apparently when one has writer's block, they just babble about whatever's crossing their mind at the time. I could write about more serious things like Brooks' unpredictable blood sugar which is driving me absolutely crazy. Welcome to the life of diabetes Ang. As I watched him playing downstairs this morning, I remembered how I used to say that I couldn't wait for him to get out of that scary baby stage when he put all things little in his mouth and climbed anything laced with danger. I couldn't wait for the day when I wouldn't worry about him so much, but that's a day that will never exist for me now. And I'll probably never live near the grand canyon either.

Fortunate for me though, I have two beautiful children who love life in rain, sleet, sun, or snow. Emma is a master at wanting everyone to be happy. She's very patient with Brooksie and likes to make him smile, most of the time. E.J. gives in more than a sister should, but it's something she'll never regret when she's older. I'm proud of the big heart and the loving load she carries.

Tug doesn't care for winter himself. Making him a trail to the tramp ain't no party either. Thanks Babes for blazing him a walkway just because you know it makes me happy.

Don't poke fun at his Elmer Fudd hat please. I bought him this gem so the frost doesn't creep onto the lobes, they ain't no small potatoes by any means.

Since my blog is private now, I can say that this is what the Poll's see alot of this time of year. It might not be Arizona, but it's no Alaska either, and thank goodness for that y'all. I've seen enough snow and entirely too much Palin for one lifetime.

The Next Stephenie Meyer?

So apparently a few people think I is a good writer. Thank you, by the way, for the nice emails and comments. As for your recommendations and questions about me publishing a book, I'm now considering it. Here are some book titles I'm tossing around:

- Dysfunctional When Punctual

- All Flossers Go to Heaven

- Finding Peace in Peanut Butter Bars

- A Cuss Word a Day Keeps the Bishop Faraway

- What to Expect When Your 50 Lbs. Plus After Expecting

- How to Buy a Lot That You Can Only Dream of Building On

- Making the Best of Your Motorcycle Man and Other Fables on the Road Again

- My Book Club Kicks Your Book Club's Ass

- Why Middle Children are Smarter

- Become the Virus Within You and It Will Never Go Away

- Endocrinologist or Therapist: A Guide to Breaking Down at Every Appointment

- Cornflower and the Mile High Fan

- When Facebook Takes Ahold

- Raising Peter Parker (with art cover)

- Faux on Miss Beautiful (with art cover)
- Killing Me Softly with His Song (and art cover)

"Hide not your talents. They for use were made. What's a sundial in the shade?" ~ Ben Franklin

I always hate the part on a questionaire where it asks what special talents I have. I can see that it's an applicable question most of the time, but I never have a good answer. I don't play an instrument, I can't sing, and I'm not good at any sport. Instead of writing "none" like I want to, I end up making up some crap about talking easily with others.

I received an email today that has me thinking I may need to change my response. I'm still undecided whether I should put "Excellent missionary skills" or "Recruiting expertise", but for now I'm just content that I finally found something.

This hidden talent didn't surface until just over a year ago when I found out Matchbox Twenty was doing a benefit concert in LA. Steve had already taken off work to go see Rob Thomas with me that year so I called my sister to see what I could talk her into. With a little coercion and the gift of pirated CD's, Lyndee came aboard the groupie express.

I had to post a video because this night provided the first time I'd ever thought about how I'd like to die. The video doesn't show it, but Lyn and I were a few rows in front of this camera. We were in the loge which I guess is like a balcony except its lower and closer to the stage. The building was a hundred year old theatre that had closed for a decade but then recently revamped and reopened. As soon as the music began, the whole crowd (including us) started jumping and dancing. I am not exaggerating when I say that the entire balcony was quaking and I felt like we were headed for a crash at any given time. I looked at Lyn and told her that I couldn't think of a better way to croak, so we kept our groove on, unstable as it were.

Matchbox came to Utah a few months later and I handily talked Kari and Trav into going. Lyndee went also, of course. I will post video of this fabulous evening on its one year anniversary, but I also prepped Karianne with Cd's and such before the concert. To say that night at the E Center was one of the best nights of my life would be putting it lightly. I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing them for several more years so I smoothly proposed going to Reno the next week. Kari bit and we were off like the bra of a new bride. Lyn knew Jeff would not hear of it so she stayed behind to sulk. For the record, we also had tickets to see Matchbox in Cheyenne last July but the show cancelled due to Rob's stance against animal cruelty (did I mention that I love this man?)

A few months pass and I find my cousin, born fifth in line among us, persisting I make her a CD of Rob and Matchbox compilations. This would be the same cousin that suggested a possible intervention to control my following of the said band. I sent her an email today requesting her brother's email status. She forwarded the necessary information and added a sentence telling me she was listening to Robbie as she wrote, but the best part is that she concluded with a "ooh baby!" I then asked her if this meant she would be joining me and my roadies once Rob announces another solo tour. Her reply was that she'd love to and that she has really missed out.

So that's it! My unexposed talent has shown face after all these years in the shade. I cannot take full responsibility since Rob is the actual ear-melting songwriter and performer, but I will accept credit where due. And thanks to my devoted converts. I love you girls!

It's a Love/Hate Thang

Our laptop is officially defunct (waaaahhhhh!), so why I decided to go private this morning is beyond me. Our desktop computer is slower than a herd of turtles treading through a peanut butter track. I'm a glutton for personal anguish.

No matter, it's over and done. I will begin my search for a new laptop and move on with my private blog. There were some people on my facebook and email lists that didn't ask for an invite but got one anyway, so if you didn't really want one, don't tell me. I'd hate to shatter the illusion I hold that my life is eventful and worth reading about.

I also want to mention that I had fun last night with the blogger girls! I walked into the party thinking I was a fairly smart, well-rounded, confident woman. I left realizing I'm an under average gamer who dreams of protesting botox and acting like a grown-up one day. (insert chuckle here Jen!) Thanks Leesh, you know how to throw the perfect bash!

Brooks and Brooks

Two years ago this month we had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Brooks Robinson was speaking for a UofU baseball fundraiser, so we took our Brooks to meet the inspiration behind his name. Brooks will only remember this from pictures but we hope he will grow to appreciate this night as much as we did.

When I was still in Hygiene school, Steve and I used to talk about possible boy names even though I was not pregnant or thinking of becoming pregnant. We already knew that our first daughter would be named after my Grandma Emma, but nothing struck us profoundly in the male category. Then one day while watching a baseball documentary, Brooks Robinson was mentioned as one of, if not, the greatest third basemen to ever play the game. Steve and I immediately looked at each other and said, "That's it!" I asked Steve if he knew what type of guy B.R. was off the field, I didn't want my son having the same name as some arrogant, celf-centered baseball player just because he could play a mean game of hardball. Steve said he thought B.R. was a nice guy but didn't have details.

I started doing some research and kept finding quote after quote, story after story about what a great man Brooks Robinson was and still is. There were numerous stories of him signing hours of autographs for kids and fans, and several accounts where B.R. would pull a child from the stands before a game and ask him to play catch or pepper with him. He was always overly nice to the media and to people in general. I couldn't find one tale of him believing he was better than anyone. He's been quoted as saying that he's just an average ball player who was lucky enough to play games for a living. Basically, he had it in perspective. He knew that being a great player didn't mean beans if he wasn't an even better person outside the game. These are my two favorite quotes written about Brooks Robinson-

"There's not a man who knows him who wouldn't swear for his integrity and honesty and give testimony to his consideration of others. He's an extraordinary human being, which is important, and the world's greatest third baseman of all time, which is incidental." - John Steadman of The News American

"How many interviews, how many questions - how many times you approached him and got only courtesy and decency in return. A true gentleman who never took himself seriously. I always had the idea he didn't know he was Brooks Robinson." - Joe Falls of the Detroit News


After I read that B.R. was held in the highest respect by everyone, the deal was done. When I was pregnant with Brooksie, I went through a phase of wondering if people would think it was a girl name and started tossing around other names, but Brooks always came back to me. I think it's because Brooks is the perfect name for our sweet boy.

The above picture is Brooks Robinson signing Brooksie's baseball. He asked our Sweet Boy what his name was and Brooks just looked at him silently, so I smiled and nodded to B.R. as I said, "His name is Brooks." Mr. Robinson's reply almost brought me to tears. He grinned at Brooks as he sounded out what he was writing on the ball, "Brooks, I'm honored." There was something indefineable about that moment. B.R. went on to talk a little to Emma and signed a book for her and then we were about to leave when I said to big Brooks, "Thank you so much, you are everything they say you are." And then he hugged me.

Steven still says to this day that I hugged him, but B.R. was sitting down so I think he stood up to hug me! We will contest each other forever about this one but I thought it was funny when we got to the car and Steve said it would've been nice if he'd been able to talk to him as well. He said I was hawging all of B.R.'s attention! I told Steve that if he wouldn't have been there staring in awe, like he'd seen the light of heaven, he could've said whatever he wanted. I wasn't standing guard over the 16-time gold glover for bleeps sake.













I'm a quote lover so here are 3 of my favorites from Brooks Robinson -

"Whether you want it or not, you do serve as a role model."

"It's a pretty sure thing that the player's bat is what speaks loudest when it's contract time, but there are moments when the glove has the last word.”

"Fifty years from now I'll be just three inches of type in a record book."
Norman Rockwell was picky about who he drew, but held such high regard for Brooks Robinson that he made him the subject of this painting titled, "Gee thanks Brooks." I don't think even a handful of players can say they have their own Rockwell. Here are 3 quotes that explain what type of defensive player B.R. was -

"He's not at his locker yet, but four guys are over there interviewing his glove." - Rex Barney to reporters looking to interview Brooks Robinson after the 1970 World Series

"I'm beginning to see Brooks Robinson in my sleep. If I dropped a paper plate, he'd pick it up on one hop and throw me out at first." - Sparky Anderson

"I will become a left-handed hitter to keep the ball away from that guy." - Johnny Bench

A link to one of my favorite B.R. kid stories -
http://www.royfirestone.com/img/v1/The_Kid_Who_Never_Forgot.pdf

Next stop...Jay Cutler, baby. Count on it!

Confessions of a Cantor

I saw my aunt driving on main street just after I got my license. I wanted to show her that I was behind the wheel so I sped up to honk and wave. As I neared her car, I saw that she was singing, and to herself no less! I'm sure it was simple tenor but in my exaggerated teenage mind, it looked like a one woman opera. I was so embarrased for her that I thought I would die. I remember trying to think of a way to tell her that it was only cool to sing in the car if you had a passenger, but I never did.

A couple years later I'm driving solo on main street in the evening, and I badly want to sing along with the radio. I reason with myself that nobody will see in the darkness and set the vocals free. It feels good but I pause when I hit an area with better lighting.

Spring forward to daytime 2009 and I'm running errands sans others in the car. Robbie is blasting my speakers and not only am I blaring the lyrics, I'm tappin and slappin the steering wheel like its my last gig. I start to wonder what Zak would think if he pulled up next to me now. Hmmm funny...I don't really care and if I stop here, I'm going to miss belting my duet on the best part of the tune, so I carry on with confidence.

Why do I divulge such addle? Because I need to know. I need to know if my carelessness will create substantial setbacks in my children's future. I need to know who amongst you does the same. Forget further rationale, I just need to know...