I'm back from a work trip. It's always hard to leave the babies even when they are no longer babies anymore.
My youngest secretly packed me a stuffed, musical, Woodstock to hug while I was away.
He surprises me. He is so gentle and thoughtful in one instant and then intense, stubborn and defiant the next.
He's human, a change agent indeed. And dare I say, a reflection of his mother.
D is a committed practitioner who takes on things he wants with determination and zeal beyond his years. He gave himself a blister until he learned to snap and told me he must have a lemonade stand on a busy street to make money.
He's 6.
This passion comes in ups and downs. I sometimes struggle how to best handle the swings and tantrums that erupt if we don't have more of the favorite cereal he's had for breakfast the last 5 days in a row.
Spirited kids are creatures of habit. Change the game plan without warning and there is likely to be trouble.
I bought a book, "Raising your Spirited Child: A Guide for Parents whose Children are More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent and Energetic" that talks about strategies to work with his exuberant energy so it doesn't crush spirit and allows children to grow and manage emotions. What I learned is that I didn't need to fix him, I needed to fix me.
My son and I are very much alike. I am a spirited adult, and by the book's definition, passionate and purposeful and then frustrating the next. I dig in when I think I am right and my flexibility- yes I admit - can turn rigid.
I sometimes need time to come around.
So what do we do?
Breathe.
Look for the teaching moments. When it's time to change activities, for example, give warnings that time is almost up. I can teach him good words about his energy instead of always telling them to stop it, or calm down, or sit still every few minutes so long as what he is doing is safe.
I can say:
I wish I had your energy.
You'll make a great athlete
I can let go and be OK.
What I need to practice more is to notice when I hit the wall and need a time out to regroup.
It is best to remind myself that my spirited kid is not trying to get my goat but may need a little extra effort on the redirect because of who he is and how he's wired.
On the plane at 33,000 feet, I learned it's really the same for me. (My husband will nod here.)
As the last line in the book goes: Spirited kids are like roses...they need special care...you have to get past the thorns to enjoy their beauty. It feels great to watch them bloom and even better to know that my kindergartner and I share the same passion and drive to do the things we like to do with gusto.
XOXO D!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
I can scream like a girl cause I am one
I'm out numbered by gender in my house.
No big deal really, until, well, it is.
I take my role as the lone female voice in a house full of guys seriously. Maybe all of my boys wish it less so, but I think it is up to me to explain a few things before they reach adolescence and I become the dumbest person on the planet.
Lesson one : Don't say "crying like a girl" unless you are one.
The teaching moment came while we were in the car during a freak lightening storm.
The youngest starts to shriek. He's scared and I tell him he'll be OK. So does his Dad.
But dad, takes it one step further, and adds the oft innocent and old-school disclaimer... "You're screaming like a girl" to the older brother who was mimicking the little one.
This is the part where someone might dub in the sound effect of tires screeching to a halt or a voice over saying: "OH-NO-HE-DIDN'T!"
What did you just say?
I despise the phrase "crying like a girl" for two reasons.
"Crying like a girl "connotes that girls are weak when they are not.
"Crying like a girl" tells boys that there is something less worthy about being a girl than a boy.
Before you say I am taking this too far riddle me this: What else is that phrase supposed to mean?
So if my boys are crying, I tell them to own it.
Boys will cry like boys in my house. There's no shame.
Mom will handle the crying like a girl part, thank you very much.
No big deal really, until, well, it is.
I take my role as the lone female voice in a house full of guys seriously. Maybe all of my boys wish it less so, but I think it is up to me to explain a few things before they reach adolescence and I become the dumbest person on the planet.
Lesson one : Don't say "crying like a girl" unless you are one.
The teaching moment came while we were in the car during a freak lightening storm.
The youngest starts to shriek. He's scared and I tell him he'll be OK. So does his Dad.
But dad, takes it one step further, and adds the oft innocent and old-school disclaimer... "You're screaming like a girl" to the older brother who was mimicking the little one.
This is the part where someone might dub in the sound effect of tires screeching to a halt or a voice over saying: "OH-NO-HE-DIDN'T!"
What did you just say?
I despise the phrase "crying like a girl" for two reasons.
"Crying like a girl "connotes that girls are weak when they are not.
"Crying like a girl" tells boys that there is something less worthy about being a girl than a boy.
Before you say I am taking this too far riddle me this: What else is that phrase supposed to mean?
So if my boys are crying, I tell them to own it.
Boys will cry like boys in my house. There's no shame.
Mom will handle the crying like a girl part, thank you very much.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Chasing Coats
Somewhere between birth and Kindergarten, the struggle begins.
It's freezing outside and your little bundle of joy whom you swaddled from the womb to protect, refuses your direction to wear a coat.
Try as you might to reason, the refusal - at least in my experience - heightens when I pay attention to it.
According to NPR, "Bundling kids up satisfies a deep-seated parental impulse to protect.
And culturally, it's considered the right thing to do."
Try telling that to my two boys.
I have tried to see things from the little people's perspective. I think of Ralphie in the Christmas Story who is so bundled up that when he falls he can't get up. But that's not my M.O. My plea is reasonable - Put on a fleece and go to school.
My impulse to protect is also rooted in being perceived as a good mother What will other people think if Patty sends her kids anywhere without a coat? BAD MOTHER. But experts say sometimes you have to let kids figure out that cold weather and a warm coat make good sense.
I checked in with national parenting coach Bill Corbett to capture some sanity.
"Getting your kids to wear their coat can be a challenge for a couple of reasons. For some children it is a power struggle because it is their way of exerting their sense of power and control. For others, it's not cool because the sign of a coat indicates submitting to the uncool parent and they don't want their peers to see them being influenced by their parents," he said.
Corbett said in some instances, it may be acceptable for a parent to avoid the power struggle and let the child leave for school without their coat and let the cold be the natural consequence of not having the coat.
" This might motivate the child to put on his coat," he said.
But then there are more questions.
What if the power or peer pressure is greater than the effects of the cold air? Or what if the parent is not willing to take the chances of having to pay for health care and losing time at work when their child comes down with a sickness?
There is an alternative.
"Give the child a choice between two jackets to wear. If the child refuses the choice, the parent could ask for the teacher's cooperation in telling the child that a coat must be worn to come to school on cold days," Corbett said. " Another option may be for the parent to play the "I'm not willing for you to leave the house without your coat" card."
Throwing down the latter gauntlet is handled like this:
"The adult reminds the child that putting on a coat at the parent's decision is called "cooperation." If the child refuses to cooperate, then the parent may have to remind the child that he or she may not get cooperation from the parent with activities or privileges that are not rights, such as going places, having friends over, and use of entertainment electronics in the house," Corbett said.
At my house we had a family meeting about coats.
The kids came up with the solution. They would take their cold weather gear in their backpacks to school. I could live with that because I knew when I was not there, they had the equipment they needed to be warm.
On the first day we saw a bit of snow, the boys put their coats in the backpacks. When we went into the chilly air and freezer like car, they both whined, "It's cold" and shivered.
What could you do about that? I asked.
I heard the zippers of their backpacks open.
It's freezing outside and your little bundle of joy whom you swaddled from the womb to protect, refuses your direction to wear a coat.
Try as you might to reason, the refusal - at least in my experience - heightens when I pay attention to it.
According to NPR, "Bundling kids up satisfies a deep-seated parental impulse to protect.
And culturally, it's considered the right thing to do."
Try telling that to my two boys.
I have tried to see things from the little people's perspective. I think of Ralphie in the Christmas Story who is so bundled up that when he falls he can't get up. But that's not my M.O. My plea is reasonable - Put on a fleece and go to school.
My impulse to protect is also rooted in being perceived as a good mother What will other people think if Patty sends her kids anywhere without a coat? BAD MOTHER. But experts say sometimes you have to let kids figure out that cold weather and a warm coat make good sense.
I checked in with national parenting coach Bill Corbett to capture some sanity.
"Getting your kids to wear their coat can be a challenge for a couple of reasons. For some children it is a power struggle because it is their way of exerting their sense of power and control. For others, it's not cool because the sign of a coat indicates submitting to the uncool parent and they don't want their peers to see them being influenced by their parents," he said.
Corbett said in some instances, it may be acceptable for a parent to avoid the power struggle and let the child leave for school without their coat and let the cold be the natural consequence of not having the coat.
" This might motivate the child to put on his coat," he said.
But then there are more questions.
What if the power or peer pressure is greater than the effects of the cold air? Or what if the parent is not willing to take the chances of having to pay for health care and losing time at work when their child comes down with a sickness?
There is an alternative.
"Give the child a choice between two jackets to wear. If the child refuses the choice, the parent could ask for the teacher's cooperation in telling the child that a coat must be worn to come to school on cold days," Corbett said. " Another option may be for the parent to play the "I'm not willing for you to leave the house without your coat" card."
Throwing down the latter gauntlet is handled like this:
"The adult reminds the child that putting on a coat at the parent's decision is called "cooperation." If the child refuses to cooperate, then the parent may have to remind the child that he or she may not get cooperation from the parent with activities or privileges that are not rights, such as going places, having friends over, and use of entertainment electronics in the house," Corbett said.
At my house we had a family meeting about coats.
The kids came up with the solution. They would take their cold weather gear in their backpacks to school. I could live with that because I knew when I was not there, they had the equipment they needed to be warm.
On the first day we saw a bit of snow, the boys put their coats in the backpacks. When we went into the chilly air and freezer like car, they both whined, "It's cold" and shivered.
What could you do about that? I asked.
I heard the zippers of their backpacks open.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Doing the best I can...Erica Jong gave me permission
Parenting is hard work.
Duh, you might say.
But in hindsight, did you ever really think about all the challenges you might face when you were picking out the layette?
The not knowing and living as it comes, is all part of the fun in raising a family. Yet, it is still scary.
The pressure to do everything well and by the societal book is daunting.
Someone always says, "Where was the mother?"
The judgement police or the real-life mommy mean girls in @nerdyapple's viral blog post about her 5 year old son dressing as Daphne from Scooby Doo, are always ready to pounce.
It can be hard to dismiss the head trash.
Erica Jong's essay in the Wall Street Journal today - Mothering Madness - kind of slapped me back to reality.
Like Jong, I too am tired of looking at celebrity mom photos toting around their babies while jet setting when you know darn well their bazillion dollar pay checks, nurses, maids, drivers, cooks, tutors and whatever else not captured in the photo tell a very different story.
I don't need mothering tips from Giselle.
The simple words, "Do your best," that Jong used at the end of her essay let me breathe.
I have spent the last week having nightmares about 4th grade homework. I have what-iffed over insufficient flashcards, worried about Robin Hood in Spanish and stressed over whether the Spanish was Spain Spanish or Latin American. My dusty dictionary from college is Spain Spanish.
This dialect dilemma was only interrupted by repetitive thoughts to whisk my son to the barber when he does not want to go. He is growing his hair like Tom Brady. (Again, thanks Giselle.)
I stop obsessing about locks just in time to read the school newsletter that says, "Please be sure to read to your child every night"...(Because if you don't you are a the most unengaged, sorry excuse for a parent that ever lived!)
OK, the newsletter did not really say the last part, but the directive moved me to action and simultaneously consumed me with guilt.
I read five books in a row to my kindergartner, including a BobThe Builder page turner, because I nearly forgot I had a second child having spent so much of my week in 4th grade.
So thanks for the smack Erica Jong.
I needed that.
Duh, you might say.
But in hindsight, did you ever really think about all the challenges you might face when you were picking out the layette?
The not knowing and living as it comes, is all part of the fun in raising a family. Yet, it is still scary.
The pressure to do everything well and by the societal book is daunting.
Someone always says, "Where was the mother?"
The judgement police or the real-life mommy mean girls in @nerdyapple's viral blog post about her 5 year old son dressing as Daphne from Scooby Doo, are always ready to pounce.
It can be hard to dismiss the head trash.
Erica Jong's essay in the Wall Street Journal today - Mothering Madness - kind of slapped me back to reality.
Like Jong, I too am tired of looking at celebrity mom photos toting around their babies while jet setting when you know darn well their bazillion dollar pay checks, nurses, maids, drivers, cooks, tutors and whatever else not captured in the photo tell a very different story.
I don't need mothering tips from Giselle.
The simple words, "Do your best," that Jong used at the end of her essay let me breathe.
I have spent the last week having nightmares about 4th grade homework. I have what-iffed over insufficient flashcards, worried about Robin Hood in Spanish and stressed over whether the Spanish was Spain Spanish or Latin American. My dusty dictionary from college is Spain Spanish.
This dialect dilemma was only interrupted by repetitive thoughts to whisk my son to the barber when he does not want to go. He is growing his hair like Tom Brady. (Again, thanks Giselle.)
I stop obsessing about locks just in time to read the school newsletter that says, "Please be sure to read to your child every night"...(Because if you don't you are a the most unengaged, sorry excuse for a parent that ever lived!)
OK, the newsletter did not really say the last part, but the directive moved me to action and simultaneously consumed me with guilt.
I read five books in a row to my kindergartner, including a BobThe Builder page turner, because I nearly forgot I had a second child having spent so much of my week in 4th grade.
So thanks for the smack Erica Jong.
I needed that.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The wandering lost good feeling
I often say being a mom is wonderful and exasperating. Today was heavy on the exasperation.
This is not a complaint per se. It is just an observation at how on so many levels you can almost lose your mind in less than 24 hours without any real organic mental illness.
Today battle lines were drawn all over the house.
It felt so very ineffective to say the following and not shriek it: "Please don't throw my watch into the tub with your brother.Please put your pajamas on.Put away your mighty beans.Please don't throw your Popsicle stick on the floor."
OH MY GOD THAT IS SO STUPID MOM.
I don't want to.
I don't have to.
I AM NOT GOING TO DO IT... I DON'T CARE. (Imagine a five-year-old saying this with a sarcastic head roll motion.)
For the most part I don't fight back. Although the five-year-old with the sass-cat head roll has pushed me to the brink.Walk a way, I think.
The storm clouds pass and for a minute, in this schizophrenic Sunday night world, everyone plays happily until we have to announce bed time.
I tell them I am going to read my childhood fave, "The Little Brute Family," a story of a family that was fresh and never said please and thank you. The brother and sister pinched and kicked each other until one day when the baby found a wandering, lost good feeling in a daisy field. The family kept the feeling and changed their name to Nice.
It was just the happy and cooperative ending I was longing for.
There is school tomorrow, after all.
No one caught my subliminal hint.
I don't wanna go to bed!
C'mon...It's not 8 O'CLOCK!
There is five more minutes.
I have to go to the bathroom.
I want the light on.
I want some water.
I don't want to sleep by myself.
OH MY GOD MOM, they say.
Oh my God, indeed!
This is not a complaint per se. It is just an observation at how on so many levels you can almost lose your mind in less than 24 hours without any real organic mental illness.
Today battle lines were drawn all over the house.
It felt so very ineffective to say the following and not shriek it: "Please don't throw my watch into the tub with your brother.Please put your pajamas on.Put away your mighty beans.Please don't throw your Popsicle stick on the floor."
OH MY GOD THAT IS SO STUPID MOM.
I don't want to.
I don't have to.
I AM NOT GOING TO DO IT... I DON'T CARE. (Imagine a five-year-old saying this with a sarcastic head roll motion.)
For the most part I don't fight back. Although the five-year-old with the sass-cat head roll has pushed me to the brink.Walk a way, I think.
The storm clouds pass and for a minute, in this schizophrenic Sunday night world, everyone plays happily until we have to announce bed time.
I tell them I am going to read my childhood fave, "The Little Brute Family," a story of a family that was fresh and never said please and thank you. The brother and sister pinched and kicked each other until one day when the baby found a wandering, lost good feeling in a daisy field. The family kept the feeling and changed their name to Nice.
It was just the happy and cooperative ending I was longing for.
There is school tomorrow, after all.
No one caught my subliminal hint.
I don't wanna go to bed!
C'mon...It's not 8 O'CLOCK!
There is five more minutes.
I have to go to the bathroom.
I want the light on.
I want some water.
I don't want to sleep by myself.
OH MY GOD MOM, they say.
Oh my God, indeed!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Love lessons derived from an audio book...a good listen
I just finished listening to Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture."
I am late to the table on it, I know. But Pausch's story to his children was a book I wanted to read and kept putting off... so I took it in on my Ipod...while on the treadmill, my son's football practice, or running around the track.
Sometimes good reading comes from good audio. And Pausch's story left me breathless with mood swings. I laughed out loud and tried to suppress many sobs into a whimpers.
Pausch's walk through life, his love for his wife, his children and the way he didn't care about his dented car or to wait for a manager to fix a receipt, are telling examples of a life lived in the moment.
There are so many lessons from the Last Lecture that I am not sure which to single out.
Pausch's memory of his parents letting him paint his room with huge math equations and chess pieces sticks out for me. His parents let him create. It was important to him and they cautiously and supportively stood aside. His mom even showed the room off after he left home. And Pausch never forgot the subtle nod of permission and confidence his parents gave him 38 years later.
I want to give my kids permission to create and follow through on ideas, be they design visions or anything else. I try hard to let go when the boys want to do something that might impinge my adult sensibilities.
I don't rearrange the ornaments at Christmas anymore. I let them put the ornaments in places that speak to them. This can be difficult if you grew up with the mantra..."Big ornaments on bottom, little ones on top," like I did. But I got over it.
I let the boys decorate the wall of their playroom totally in stickers because....Well, why the hell not? It's their space and it's not like I do any entertaining among the match box cars and Bionicles.
And for the last two nights in a row, we let them sleep in the upstairs alcove on the floor with their flashlights because they thought it would be cool.
Who am I to judge this in-house adventure?
I just hope one day they remember their mom was alright.
I am late to the table on it, I know. But Pausch's story to his children was a book I wanted to read and kept putting off... so I took it in on my Ipod...while on the treadmill, my son's football practice, or running around the track.
Sometimes good reading comes from good audio. And Pausch's story left me breathless with mood swings. I laughed out loud and tried to suppress many sobs into a whimpers.
Pausch's walk through life, his love for his wife, his children and the way he didn't care about his dented car or to wait for a manager to fix a receipt, are telling examples of a life lived in the moment.
There are so many lessons from the Last Lecture that I am not sure which to single out.
Pausch's memory of his parents letting him paint his room with huge math equations and chess pieces sticks out for me. His parents let him create. It was important to him and they cautiously and supportively stood aside. His mom even showed the room off after he left home. And Pausch never forgot the subtle nod of permission and confidence his parents gave him 38 years later.
I want to give my kids permission to create and follow through on ideas, be they design visions or anything else. I try hard to let go when the boys want to do something that might impinge my adult sensibilities.
I don't rearrange the ornaments at Christmas anymore. I let them put the ornaments in places that speak to them. This can be difficult if you grew up with the mantra..."Big ornaments on bottom, little ones on top," like I did. But I got over it.
I let the boys decorate the wall of their playroom totally in stickers because....Well, why the hell not? It's their space and it's not like I do any entertaining among the match box cars and Bionicles.
And for the last two nights in a row, we let them sleep in the upstairs alcove on the floor with their flashlights because they thought it would be cool.
Who am I to judge this in-house adventure?
I just hope one day they remember their mom was alright.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Life support from Twitter
I was reading some blogging tips on Twitter that basically told me my blog was on life support because I do not post enough.
And that if I only write about myself, the content is snooze worthy.
Hmmm.
It got me thinking.
Why do I blog? Tweet? FB? or attempt social media dances at all?
I get eyeball rolls from more than a few friends and/or family members about the immediacy of my FB posts when I am on vacation or another location, say, climbing a tree. And sometimes I do - like Peggy Orenstein aptly points out in her article, "I Tweet therefore I am.' - need to be present and tweetless in some moments. It's not all about the stage. I get it.
But my social media enthusiasm is not about navel gazing. This realm feeds the newspaper reporter side of me. I still crave news and information despite my industry departure three years ago. I have accepted that this is an ingrained feature whether you leave journalism altogether or find another media niche outside the fifth estate.
My boys- while not necessarily newsworthy to you - are my biggest beat that I have had the pleasure of covering. So I write about them when the muse strikes. They make my world sing. And if no one reads, it's Ok. An author friend once told me if you are only writing to be published, you won't be. I write because I love it and if someone laughs along the way that's good too.
And Twitter?
Signing in to tweet every day is like a virtual newsroom. It's a cool fix of information at your fingertips.
But what's even more interesting is that leaving journalism, has helped me discover a whole world of news covering opportunties, writers and content lovers that I had heard existed before, but never checked out.
Since ramping up my Twittering, I've learned much and run across so many very cool blogs that I would never have had the pleasure of knowing about if I didn't start to investigate.
Here's quick snapshot.
LovethatMax - http://www.lovethatmax.blogspot.com/
This is an awesome, award-winning blog written by Max's mom Ellen Seidman about "bringing up a kid with special needs who kicks butt." She is also an editor. And she put together blog postings from mom around the world who had children with special needs and detailed their different experiences. (There is something about those Scandinavian countries that get so many things right.)
Or Adriana Gardella http://nyti.ms/9G
who blogs for the New York Times with "She Owns It.' This space catalogs real life stories that capture "ambitious, hard-working and inspiring women — innovators who are passionate about their businesses and, in many cases, striving to change the world."
And then there are mommy bloggers like Jennifer James, who in my estimation, has created an amazing space for moms of all interests in blogging. She is founder of the Mom Bloggers Club http://www.mombloggersclub.com/.
Since I have been connected, I've discovered events that I was previously ignorant to, like #Blogher10 going on in NYC - a conference and networking opportunity for women. From the tweets it sounds amazing and empowering. There are also other mommy bloggers to be connected to like Tomica Bonner, a writer and mom of 7 who shares frank truths on various subjects here and others to follow on Twitter like @herbadmother and @crazyadventures. And if mommy blogging is not for you, there are business savvy and all around inspirers like @bizshrink, @scjoson, @85broads and more.
The good news for me and for you is there is more like it to be found, even if you do it in moderation.
Let me know what you've found out there.
And that if I only write about myself, the content is snooze worthy.
Hmmm.
It got me thinking.
Why do I blog? Tweet? FB? or attempt social media dances at all?
I get eyeball rolls from more than a few friends and/or family members about the immediacy of my FB posts when I am on vacation or another location, say, climbing a tree. And sometimes I do - like Peggy Orenstein aptly points out in her article, "I Tweet therefore I am.' - need to be present and tweetless in some moments. It's not all about the stage. I get it.
But my social media enthusiasm is not about navel gazing. This realm feeds the newspaper reporter side of me. I still crave news and information despite my industry departure three years ago. I have accepted that this is an ingrained feature whether you leave journalism altogether or find another media niche outside the fifth estate.
My boys- while not necessarily newsworthy to you - are my biggest beat that I have had the pleasure of covering. So I write about them when the muse strikes. They make my world sing. And if no one reads, it's Ok. An author friend once told me if you are only writing to be published, you won't be. I write because I love it and if someone laughs along the way that's good too.
And Twitter?
Signing in to tweet every day is like a virtual newsroom. It's a cool fix of information at your fingertips.
But what's even more interesting is that leaving journalism, has helped me discover a whole world of news covering opportunties, writers and content lovers that I had heard existed before, but never checked out.
Since ramping up my Twittering, I've learned much and run across so many very cool blogs that I would never have had the pleasure of knowing about if I didn't start to investigate.
Here's quick snapshot.
LovethatMax - http://www.lovethatmax.blogspot.com/
This is an awesome, award-winning blog written by Max's mom Ellen Seidman about "bringing up a kid with special needs who kicks butt." She is also an editor. And she put together blog postings from mom around the world who had children with special needs and detailed their different experiences. (There is something about those Scandinavian countries that get so many things right.)
Or Adriana Gardella http://nyti.ms/9G
who blogs for the New York Times with "She Owns It.' This space catalogs real life stories that capture "ambitious, hard-working and inspiring women — innovators who are passionate about their businesses and, in many cases, striving to change the world."
And then there are mommy bloggers like Jennifer James, who in my estimation, has created an amazing space for moms of all interests in blogging. She is founder of the Mom Bloggers Club http://www.mombloggersclub.com/.
Since I have been connected, I've discovered events that I was previously ignorant to, like #Blogher10 going on in NYC - a conference and networking opportunity for women. From the tweets it sounds amazing and empowering. There are also other mommy bloggers to be connected to like Tomica Bonner, a writer and mom of 7 who shares frank truths on various subjects here and others to follow on Twitter like @herbadmother and @crazyadventures. And if mommy blogging is not for you, there are business savvy and all around inspirers like @bizshrink, @scjoson, @85broads and more.
The good news for me and for you is there is more like it to be found, even if you do it in moderation.
Let me know what you've found out there.
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