I am so annoyed with myself right now. And it isn’t because I am freaking out about next fall, or even next week (but seriously y’all I find out if I teach summer school on Friday….so pray for that would you?). It is because I let myself get sucked into a mommy war.

Okay, hear me out. Christian stays home with the Peanut on the days he isn’t working….and he is out for the summer so that is everyday right now. Anyway there was this hilarious set of questions posted in this article from a mom who felt like sometimes her husband didn’t get how being home with a two-year-old day in and out could possibly be that hard. I mean he has to go to work every day. Seriously, it is hilarious go read it.

Christian and I have talked about how hard it can be staying home, isolating, tedious, and exhausting while totally intellectually boring all at the same time. This isn’t to say that it also isn’t awesome, and he does feel super lucky to be able to spend so much time with our daughter. And I get jealous sometimes when I get excited about some new thing she is doing, and I learn she has been doing it for a week. But there are days when I am sure he wishes it was him rushing out of the house and me going into the nursery to peel the pee-soaked pajamas off our daughter and throw the sheets in the wash. (She soaks through more often then not, and this is now the only reason she wakes up at night. Anyone got any tips?)

So I thought that he would appreciate the article, and he totally did. We laughed. But then I made the mistake of reading some of the 100+ comments. And this totally tongue in cheek somehow got the stay at home vs. working mom fans flamed. And then, one of the comments got under my skin and I was all “this lady doesn’t even know me how does she know I am not giving it my all. How dare she think that I get to sleep through the night just because I am a working mom. Why would she say she is giving 100 percent everyday to being a mom? Is she trying to say that I am not 100 percent a mom, just because I work?”

Slow down sister. This lady doesn’t know me, which means she isn’t talking about me. So get it together mommy. Turns out the person who is talking is just reacting to what she felt like was someone saying that her situation wasn’t difficult or valid. She wasn’t saying my life isn’t difficult. She was talking about her but I was reacting as though she was talking about me. And I put a defensive comment down, and then someone called me out on it, then I had to defend it.

But it made me start thinking about the “mommy wars.” And how these wars only exist online. I have never seen a mommy war in real life. All the stay at home moms I know are totally supportive of me and my situation. And have even sat for us when we are in a pinch. And I have never thought “what are you whining about” when the plethora of stay at homes I know are describing a particularly hard day or a specific issue they are having. We are all in this together. We recognize everyones life is hard. Because being a parent, while being incredibly rewarding, is hard. But online….somehow it all gets messed up. I don’t get that. And I really hate that today I somehow got sucked into it.

In light of my last post, and all of the good feelings being sent my way (thank you so so so much) I want to stop here for a second and mark a monument. For when God provided.

I remember when I was staying at home and crying because I didn’t know what I was going to do about child care when I finally had this baby. I was worried, but I heard God telling me that He would provide someone. Wednesday we attended a dance demonstration for Elizabeth’s daughter. When Juliet started howling in the middle of it, the little ballerina turned around from her performance and yelled “it’s okay Peanut! That’s my sister.”

I remember when I couldn’t seem to get a job interview and then I walked into my first school and it was so clear I had the job I went out to the car to call Christian and tell him I had one.

I remember when we moved to Atlanta, and we didn’t  know quite how we were going to make ends meet and a couple of “random” checks showed up in the mail.

I remember when we didn’t get THE HOUSE. The one I was sure was ours because of a technical glitch. I was furious, and my media center specialist looked me straight in the face and told me “God don’t keep blessings from us. If He doesn’t want you there then you need to be thanking Him.” She was completely right. The house we have now is better suited for us, and our neighbors down the street are more of an encouragement then I could have imagined.

I remember when I was praying that Jill would come live here… for a male duo partner who knew the Lord…..for  my friend in High school to come to know Jesus, and she did, and when she saw Jill at a wedding she whispered to her “tell Abby I know Jesus now.”

God did all of those things, plus countless others. Because He loves me and knows whats best for me. Even when I am feeling alone and in despair (the special pregnant hormonal kind).

Oh the crying stage of pregnancy, how I love you. I have never exactly been one to keep my emotions private. For me, it feels much better just to let it all hang out. Recently Jill and I were at a women’s bible study where we were both crying. We were the only two. It is genetic. Thanks a lot Dad. (You read that correctly, when I was taking a lecture class in college Dr. Stamp asked us which parent is more likely to cry. I was the only one to say dad and everyone of the other couple hundred students looked at me.)

Anyway, I have had a flood of things happen that probably would have made me cry anyway, but add 22 weeks pregnant to the list (hey, Priscilla is the size of a coconut!) and the tears are going to flow. I have been getting NO response from a few people at work, and I know they are busy. I get it. Testing totally sucks for the students, the teachers, the people in charge who will loose their job if anything goes wrong. It just blows, unless of course you get paid a lot of money for creating those tests. But I need to know if I am teaching summer school or not, at the very least I need to know when I am going to know if you don’t know yet to tell me. And it shouldn’t take a week and a half and four emails to find that answer. (Which was we don’t know, but we will let you know on this date.) And then there is some form that my lawyers need that I gave to someone in March and they say they gave it to someone else, but that someone else says they have never seen it before and have been waiting on me to give it to them.

But the icing on the cake is this. I was surplussed. Then I was given a placement in the north side of the school district that will be between an hour and a half to two hours to get home in traffic. I would get home at between 5:30 and 6 on a good day. The peanut goes to sleep at 7. On a bad day I wouldn’t even get to see her. With a four month old at home I will be getting up an hour and a half earlier than I do now to make it to work on time. Awesome. I was just wrapping my head around this when the principal from the new school emailed me to let me know that there must be some mistake. He doesn’t have an opening. This is good news. I am praying that I am put closer to my house (in my dream world they leave me where I am at). But it puts me in a limbo land I am not great at navigating.

So I get all this news pretty much at the same time and I am in the front office trying to figure out where this stupid form is and am informed no one has it. And I throw up my hands and sigh really loud and stomp out like the mature professional I am. And the totally gracious employee who is definitely NOT to blame calls me back in to let me know that if someone just gets her the form she will fax it where ever I desire today. Luckily that gave me the chance to apologize and tell her that I know she hasn’t done anything wrong I am just frustrated and overwhelmed. Then I cried in the front in front of the secretary and a co-worker. I feel awesome. I am going to taco bell for lunch. And I may have had a banana and some m&ms for breakfast. I just feel that awesome.

I know that God has everything under control. I do. I read the part in the Bible at small group last night about not worrying about tomorrow because the birds and the flowers don’t and they do just fine and all of that. And I get that. I do. I have a million stories of the Lord providing when provision seemed impossible. And with everything I profess to believe Him to have done, getting me a job where He wants me and making sure we are provided for is simply not a big deal. But right now I am frustrated and annoyed, and worried. Because what I feel like is not lining up with what I know.

What I feel like goes something like this: I am  not going to make any extra money this summer and the cost of gas is going to completely destroy our budget, and these forms will never be filled out right so we will never see that money and I will end up having to pay the stupid 600 dollar ambulance bill for riding in the front while someone was actually getting medical care only because they were going to the place I wanted to be and people kept asking me if I wanted to and I just wanted everyone to shut up. I will have this baby in traffic on the side of four hundred before I set foot in an ambulance again. I’ll just make sure I am wearing skirts when I come full term so when the birth is on the news off of footage from someones camera phone, they can shoot it from an angle that doesn’t showcase parts that have to be blurred out. (I realize I may have just crossed the too far line. Sorry about that.)

Just writing all of that makes me realize how ridiculous all of this is, how crazy I am being. So I suppose I will just continue to choose the truth over my insanely pregnant feelings. And cry. And eat taco bell for lunch. And pray pray pray that I find a teaching job close to home (if anyone has any leads on that let me know.)

Why can’t we all just get real with each other? This is what I have been asking myself lately.  Maybe it is because I recently spent a significant amount of time standing outside of church while my friend let me know that she was a terrible mom (so, so not true). Or maybe  it is because I recently found the facebook message my sister Emily sent me when I had told her I was fine and three hours later posted on here one seriously hot mess. She basically let me know (in a supportive way, Em never comes off as harsh….even when she is trying to be) that it wasn’t okay to fine her to death when I wasn’t feeling so fine.

And perhaps that is why transparency seems like a more natural choice for me. Especially in my personal life. Maybe it was because I was raised in a relatively small house with no TVs in the kids rooms and no basement to retreat to. We had to beg my parents to let us put a free phone in the girls room. Free, they didn’t even have to pay for it. And there was already a phone jack in the room. But this meant that there wasn’t a whole lot that could be hidden. If you were going to break up with your boyfriend, or have a fight with your friends, or feel bad about the zit that was so big is was closing one of your nostrils (seriously, how the heck was I going to hide that one?) everyone in the house knew about it.

So, though I think do have a natural bent to just let it all hang out it was also the way I was raised. And I think that the church suffers miserably when there are people in the pews looking around and fine-ing each other. I think everyone suffers miserably when we aren’t up front about what is going on.

Last night I exchanged a series of  facebook messages with a student I had my first year of teaching. This sweet girl had just finished her first year of college and was coming home and transferring to a local school because she is about to have a baby. She expressed some concerns to me, how she was feeling overwhelmed and unsure. How was she going to make good choices for this child when she hadn’t made good ones for herself? How could she separate her feelings of how this baby came about with her feelings for this baby? It was just all so overwhelming for her. And I let her in on the secret, the one people don’t tell you until you are crying in a public place. That is how a lot of us feel.

Being a mom comes with a LOT of weight to it. For me, more weight than wife, more weight than teacher (and I seriously almost cracked under that business). It just feels like as a mom you are supposed to know everything, take care of everything, and be happy about everything all the time. It feels like that but it isn’t like that. It is okay to have complicated feelings…it is a complicated relationship, mother to child. Throw in everyone on the internet’s opinion on breast versus bottle, working versus stay at home, co-sleeping versus crib and you are a basket case. And then you have to wake up every few hours. At 19….I could barely take care of myself…. I just think she needs to know that everyone is struggling. I think it does her a complete disservice for us to run around with a smile on our faces with “fine” coming out of our mouths when we don’t feel like it. I think it does everyone a disservice.

I have been having a pretty crap-tastic day. A day where nothing is really wrong per say…..It is just that nothing seems to be right. And the worst part is I can’t even blame it on anyone. That’s right. I said it. I always feel better about my circumstances when I have someone to rage against, sometimes even say bad things about, at the very least be smarter than.

It started on Friday. My principal called me into his office to let me know I was being surplussed….again. This time last year I was on maternity leave, so I wasn’t made aware of the fact that I would no longer be working at the school I was familiar with. Instead, my name would be thrown into a pot where principals would pluck people out as they needed them. I would have a job, and I would find out exactly where a week or so before I had to report. Awesome nothing like reporting to a new school with a new baby, leaky boobs, and a breast pump. The first conversations I had with my department head and my principal were about my boobs and my need for a pumping room.

This time it turns out there IS something like reporting to a new school talking about your boob-related needs. In August of next year I will report to a school in the “visible and hugely pregnant” stage of pregnancy. My first conversations will be about when I am going on maternity leave (at the last possible second) and what will  happen if that second comes before I thought (when I had Juliet everyone was sure I was waiting “too long” and I would have the baby on the floor under my desk while my class listened to me scream in agony…yeah they weren’t huge on natural birth. I had to get my midwives to assure everyone I was in fact perfectly able to continue to work.) Awesome, Hi! I am your new teacher….see you in January! Way to build a strong reputation with my students…..a population that needs a lot of face time.

I managed to ignore the fact that I wouldn’t be at the school that I have ADORED working at this year the whole weekend. But today I had to submit my top three choices of where I would like to move next year. This doesn’t mean I get them. This just means I am allowed to state my preferences. So I started today by choosing the place I don’t really want to be moved to next year.

Then my department head dropped by and let me know that the EOCT was being given and one of the teachers was out. Since you have to have a certified teacher to be in the room, a sub couldn’t cover. So third block instead of planning (read: occasionally falling asleep in my car) I would be administering a test. Now between the pregnancy and this being Juliet’s first year I have had to call in so last minute there was no sub. Which means the people in my department have had to cover me so I am NOT complaining about having to cover someones class. The issue is I forgot my lunch today. And since I didn’t have a planning I didn’t have time to go get anything.

Still, no problem. I’ll just eat the old bag of microwave popcorn I randomly found last Friday and Hey! I think I have some change in my wallet, enough for a can of coke. Perfect, I can just pretend I am at the movies. So I wander down to the teachers lounge, start the popcorn, put my money in the machine and hit the button. When I reach my hand in to get the can it gets wet. And there is a tiny line of coke spraying out of the corral that holds the newly dispensed drinks. On the way to my hand my coke has sprung a leak and I am instructed by the head janitor to throw it directly in the trash behind me. And anybody can tell you, you don’t screw with Miss Vicky. So into the trash it went. And I had no more money, and nothing to drink….and less than fifteen minutes to eat my crappy popcorn lunch.

I was pretty thirsty when the bell rang. I asked my kids if they had change for a five but no one did. Crap. Out of luck. But then…..One of my amigos gave me a dollar, so I could get a coke. Which makes me feel like my kids appreciate me. And on my way down to the machine I ran into a teacher in my department who assured me she was trying to “scheme a way for me to stay” which doesn’t give me a lot of hope but makes me feel like someone cares I am leaving. I had been feeling like it didn’t matter to my co-workers as I had only been there for a year.

And all of this reminded me what a brat I was to God about being surplussed the first time…..so here’s to hoping that either the schemes work, or I will be even happier with my next placement (which I couldn’t imagine…..but God is bigger than my imagination.) Cheers (with my coke, that my kid bought me.)

I have been working on this post for awhile. So forgive the discrepancies in the time table.

Yesterday was my daughters first birthday. I have been a mom for a whole year! What the heck. My sister Jill would tell you I celebrated by looking the part. I got all my hair chopped off and wore pearls. Between those two piece, the protruding belly and the cardigan sweater I did kind of scream Mommy, but hey with a one year old and one due in September, what are you going to do but rock the part of mom? I do drive a station wagon after all.

I feel so very blessed to have this sweet, sweet child in my life. She woke up smiling and was a joy during her entire party….even if it was Sunday which means the first nap gets skipped. One of my friends says her children came into this world in the same way that they interact with the world. In this case that seems to be true.

Except for the minor (ha! It doesn’t feel the fourth night in a row you are waking up for the fifth time) sleep issues the peanut is a dream. She is the happiest little girl. At church I have been asked if she ever cries! She is friendly and curious and when you pick her up to cuddle her and put her on your hip she likes to pat your back. It is one of my very favorite things.

I also lover her sense of humor. It is so amazing to me that it is already evident. I mean a year ago all she could do was eat, sleep, and poop. She likes to mimic faces and Brooke, (who blogs here) has taught her some cute ones. When she discovers that somethings she does is charming she laughs and claps and remembers so she can pull her new trick out later to charm the pants off of someone else. My current favorite is covering her ears when you say peek-a-boo. Hilarious. Second place is counting. The words are all wrong but the inflection is perfect! I love that she screams in glee and starts crawling faster when she realizes you are following her to thwart her current plans (which usually include either playing in the dog food, the open dishwasher, or crawling to the bathroom and trying to climb into the tub.)

I love how social she is. She loves to interact with the people at the grocery store or her dad’s work. She absolutely adores other children. Watching her cousin and her interact was the most hilarious thing. They clearly were ready to be besties. I have no idea what they were telling each other, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Her other favorite kiddo is the two year old at Elizabeth’s. When they watch Baby Einstein together they always laugh at the same parts. What is up with that? She flaps her hands when she sees Elizabeth’s clan make their way to church. And please do not think of coming into a room without acknowledging her directly. OF-FEN-DED.

And though I know it may burn me in the future, I love that she knows what she wants and lets you know that she wants it. Currently this is usually whatever you are eating or drinking at the time (50th percentile in height 90th in weight ahem.) or the remote control. Peanut lets you know that she would like that. Now please. But she is still distractable enough that the remote with the dead batteries works just as well as the one that lights up. I am not good at asking for what I want. I sit back and am sometimes resent other people’s abilities to say “this is what I want or need” without saying “if that is okay” or feeling guilty about being too demanding. It is something I want to make sure I don’t pass on to my daughters (daughters, I am going to have daughters, plural!). And it is a little weird I have this issue as neither of my sisters seem to.

Mostly I love how she is her own creation; she is already the person God has created her to be. He knows her path and I am excited to continue to help her along it.

Names are so funny. In Biblical days people were named very often for places and circumstances. There names were changed when there hearts were changed. Or the meaning becomes clear or works in two opposite ways like Peter. He started as a pebble, getting kicked around. But became the corner-stone of the church, the rock Christ built the church on. Cool, God, that is pretty cool.

My name means joy. Or in some translations Joy of her father (I think). I don’t think it is an accident that dad and I have the same prophetic gifts. My middle name is Kathleen, not only am I the spitting image of my mother-Kathleen, we chose the same profession, we have the same tastes, I do things that make my sisters scream “AAAAHHH you’re MOM!.” There are moments when I look in the mirror and think I look more like my mother than myself.

Christian’s name means follower of Christ. There was a time when this was not the primary way he, or anyone else would have defined him. But it was what his mother named for, and what she prayed for. And now, thankfully, he is first and foremost a follower of Christ. This is how he sees his life, his primary role.

Juliet means youthful. It is one of my favorite things about Christian. It is also in honor of my grandmother Juliane. Marie means overthrow or rebellion (I named my kid youthful rebellion. I may have a handful in a couple of years….). But I like the idea of the very feminine name having this strength behind it. I also read that Marie is derived from Myrrh, which is bitter at first but later turns sweet. Perfect, not the twins but sweeter than I could ask for.

We had a potential name picked out for a girl. Then sometime last week I soured on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the name Lila, it was just  that….I don’t know. I wasn’t sure Lila was the baby in my belly. Which was fine…because I was having a boy. So when we opened the envelope and saw “female” we were pretty surprised, and thought pretty quickly…..what are we going to name this child? Christian even said “man, now I have to get serious about baby names!”

So we spent a couple of hours on Nameberry. Seriously, a couple of hours. It went something like this Felicity, Fiona, Felicia? No. Hazel, Ivy? No. Maya, Eleanor? I like those but I am not sure that is this baby….. Lorna? Nora? Neither work with the last name Norman. I’m looking at the list literary girl’s names. Well, I’m looking at the list classic under used girls names. Okay, we definitely like Juliet because it is classic and not because it is fancy. Abby, why have you suggested half the names on the hipster list? I’m looking at the list if you like Josephine you’ll love…. Well I am looking at the list if you like Ava you’ll love….. Then I started reading the blog. It talked about how two syllable names sound best with one or three syllable last names. Three syllable names work well with two syllable last names. Hmmmm…. So then I gave up and started tooling around facebook while Christian thought some more.

I had given up deciding that God would have to whisper the name to me. Or someone. That maybe I would be one of those women in the hospital who has “baby girl” and they won’t release you until you name your baby. We weren’t even talking about baby names anymore when Christian said it. What about Priscilla? Priscilla, I like it. I love it. Then Christian started to choke up. He didn’t read it. We don’t know where we got it. It seems as though God whispered it to him. Priscilla, meaning ancient and venerable. (I admit I had to look up venerable. It means honorable, set apart, sacred. Wow.) Priscilla is a very prominent woman in the Acts church. Christian even read that some people think she wrote Hebrews. I also like that Juliet and Priscilla both are names that people think of in pairs (Romeo and Juliet, Priscilla and Aquila). Classic, feminine, has a standard spelling, won’t be 4 of them on the kindergarten playground.

But mostly, it feels right. We have a peace about it. And the coolest thing happened. Now that she has a name we are SO excited to meet her. God gave us this name and I can’t wait to meet this little person, help her become the person God wants her to be. Watch her and her sister fight, and love, and laugh and fight, and giggle, and plot against Christian and I, and laugh until they pee themselves. Priscilla. We are SO excited to meet you!

In two hours I will know what kind of bun is in this oven…..Well I say that. But I had a very clear girl shot before and I still wondered if two boys were going to come out. Either way I figured I would take home whatever came out.

So far we have only seen one baby on the ultrasound, and my friends who know more than I do about those things seem to say that one baby at nine weeks means one at twenty weeks. But in my spirit I hear my heart again whispering, there could be two. God could do it like that.

And then all the what ifs….If it is a girl I will be really excited that Peanut has a sister, but we do not have a name picked out. If it is a boy, one boy there will be much praying and contemplation about what to name him.

I don’t want to be disappointed by any baby….but I do want a boy, or really I want two. I will be super thrilled with the baby when it is time to take the baby home. But that wrestling with God in the mean time. I am praying that I accept whatever the Lord reveals, and am excited about it.

P.S. I accidentally scheduled the ultrasound during Christian’s exams, so they are writing it down and putting it in an envelope and we will see if I can wait for Christian to get home before I rip open the envelope.

Edit: We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord.We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord. It is funny how I said I wanted a boy. Now I am just super excited to meet my little girl!

Just thought I would let you all know that at soon as I write about all this stuff…..I stop worrying or crying about it. So, basically you all read my craziest parts. You are very welcome.

I swing back and forth on the pendulum of emotion. I know that some of this is simply pregnancy emotion and that everyone does it. I remember staying home from work so that I could cry all day with Juliet, before all the twin business started. I was just completely overwhelmed by the thought of a baby in my life. What if I didn’t want to go back to work? What if I was terrible at motherhood? What if my emotions never went back into control? What if there was something wrong? What if all the worrying caused something to be wrong? What if Christian died and she would never know her father? What if they had to put me into a medically induced coma just to gestate the baby, and then a c-section and then they pulled the plug and she would never know me? (I swear I wasn’t watching soap operas all day, but it sure sounds like it…..).

I also remember thinking that I of all people did not have a right to think and feel those things. I wanted this baby this was a planned  pregnancy. Here I was weeping over the life change this baby who I hoped and planned for and I still hoped that other women would be braver than I and carry babies to term who were not hoped and planned for. Hy-po-crite.

This time around I am still a mess, but a different kind. This pregnancy has been surprisingly less emotionally exhausting. Maybe it is because I am emotionally throwing up on anyone who read this and not keeping it all inside. (Thank you dear readers, have a wet wipe.) But physically I am drained, drained. And the sheer exhaustion has definately made me generally crabby. Oh and what is that, hello 20 week Braxton-Hicks.

But ultimately, over all I would say this pregnancy feels like the space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. On Sunday someone mentioned that Saturday, the one between The Crucifixion and Resurrection,  and I have been thinking about it a lot. We talked about it a little bit in small group yesterday. What was it like for them? The disciples, the crowds who had been following Jesus and believing that He was indeed the messiah. What was it like for his mom, who had believed so effortlessly when the angels came to tell her that she was with child….but hadn’t had sex yet? What was it like for people who had dropped their careers and abandoned families to follow Jesus, only to watch Him die on a cross? How did they deal with the reality they were seeing when it conflicted with the hope and faith that had been growing in their hearts about who Jesus was. Who Jesus proved himself to be over and over again.

Sure, by Sunday it all made sense. That whole ridiculous business about being sold and crucified, really THAT was the piece that wasn’t a parable? Really? Okay, he WAS the Messiah, He IS the messiah, regardless of the expectations He made it work. By Sunday there was a greater plan explained, an understanding that only comes from the complete picture. How I long for the complete picture.

But that Saturday must have been rough. Some people were probably angry, some disappointed, others frustrated. Maybe some wallowed in their doubt, or were already on their way home to beg for their jobs back and apologize to their family members, knowing they would hear “I told you so” for a long long time. I like to think that there were some who clung to the hope that if they just held out long enough Jesus would come back and make it all make sense somehow.

And Saturday is exactly what this pregnancy feels like, what every pregnancy will feel like (and Lord have mercy may this be the one, next tops) until there are two baby boys in my arms. Two tiny heart beats on the monitor. I go from anger, to doubt, always in confusion. I don’t want to be disappointed, but know I will be. I am trying to have faith….and when push comes to shove I know they are coming…..it is only the when that I struggle with.

I feel so small, so selfish. I know that people have real problems. There are millions of women who would beg for ANY baby. That infertility is a heartbreaking path that the I will never have to travel down. At this point I am absolutely guaranteed two biological plus as many as we choose to adopt. I know how lucky I am. And yet, I want my boys. The ones I know are out there, are designated for me. And I want to be sure and rest in peace, the peace of Sunday because I know the fulfilment is coming. But right now, I have the desperate faith and hope of Saturday. Because it isn’t Sunday yet, and I need to be okay with my Saturday faith…..because I believe God is okay with it.

Tuesday I have an ultra-sound. I am praying that anyway it is, it will be revealed to me on Tuesday. But you know what I want it took look like…..