An emberassing day of the 'runs' with the guilt ridden mommy.

                       
                      The day started off normal. Well normal for a second. I had no inkling of a hint that today would be just as trying, hard and challenging as it was, until about thirty minutes in.
                      I woke up but kept my eyes shut. Luke my 19 month old baby who never sleeps, rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position. My first thought was "Dear Lord, when will he understand we don't wake up when its still dark!" and then I heard something, a very wet trumpet sounded from his diaper. This isn't good. Seconds later, the three year old princess starts to stir, obviously awoken by the wet trumpet sound and I ask her if she can go down stairs and get daddy.
              I am in no way changing this one.
              I attempt to go back to sleep but I am too awake, and hungry so I throw on my robe and go downstairs. Luke is running around naked and Eve is watching TV on the couch in a sleepy haze. I feel a pang of guilt for making her get up so that I didn't have to.
             Luke wants to cuddle so I sit down with him on my lap for a bit and spend a good ten minutes planting kisses on the back of his head. Eventually something peeked his interest and he got down, that is when I saw it. Gross wet poo right on my robe.
              It dawned on me then, that perhaps this was some tummy upset. I cleaned him up,put a diaper on him and get him dressed.
                                   After breakfast we took daddy to work and that is when it hit me, I had to go to the bathroom quickly. I put my foot to the peddle and the peddle to the metal and after unbuckling two car seats and ushering three kids quickly into the house I  ran to the bathroom and made it just in the nick of time.  Then I realized that there was no toilet paper.

                  We always make sure that we only use one twelve pack of toilet paper in a  two week period because of our tight budget. We usually are pretty good about this, but my husband had the man cold. and us women knows what that entails! So in the past four days he went through all of the toilet paper.
                   I looked around for something else, anything else, and I realize the only thing for me to use is a hand towel. I use the hand towel, and throw it away.
                    I hope for it to end and that this is the only time I am running to the bathroom today, but not only five minutes later, (after I am changing another poopy diaper from Luke) I run another hand towel.   Its then I realize that if I don't make it to the grocery store soon, im going to cost a small fortune in hand towels!

                 I broke it as gently to Eve as I could that we would not be able to attend preschool story time at the library today (she cried for five minutes straight in my arms, my shoulder was a wet mess) and then sat them down for their motivation before we go out. I will often read to them a scripture to help with whatever one of them might be going through. lately my oldest Talon, has been having a tough time following rules, and in result he is really encouraging the younger ones down a dark slippery path.
             I read Proverbs 10:17 He who heeds discipline shows the way to life,  but whoever ignores correction leads others astray.

              We talked about what it meant, and then I talked to them what we were doing and what I expected from them with their behavior. They all nodded in understanding, except for the baby. he played with his straps.
                 We drove 20 minutes to the library where I immediately ran to the bathroom. Afterwards we picked up a book Talon ordered, and picked out some books to read. I spent the entire time trying NOT to poop my pants. I still had to go grocery shopping for the week. Why didn't I just put it off until I felt better? Because we are on such a tight budget that we only have enough food in the house to last us exactly until Friday. If I don't go today, we don't eat tomorrow. Its just how it goes, no room for error....or sickness.
              Now let me pause a second to explain some things about my sweet Luke. Love this kid. He is a very transparent little guy. If he isn't happy, he lets us know it, if he is he lets us know it. He started screaming the minute his face hit the air from my womb, and he has not really stopped since. He has a temper. The past few months he has been showing his frustration by hitting. When he is mad at me, he will hit my square in the nose as hard as he can. He hits his daddy too.
              I am a believer that we should know and win our children's hearts. I think its very important that we do this before anything else. I do not spank, (only in very rare circumstances and its a last resort) and believe that children should be given the same grace, mercy and love that God gives us. They need direction, yes! But they also need forgiveness when they mess up because we all mess up, and wouldn't we want forgiveness too? Which leads me to explain what happened next....
           For months every time this cute little bugger would hit someone or me, I will take his hands gently and say "we give hugs and kisses, no hits. hitting hurts" He will usually hug or kiss us or his friend after that, but two minutes later he is hitting again.
          As we are leaving the library, I am lugging a heavy bag on each arm, and the kids are running down the concrete ramp. Luke cannot run well, but he cant do steps at all and will take a nasty tumble if he isn't holding someone's hand.
          Holding my keys, he decides to run away from me down the ramp, as I'm lugging the two heavy bags, my stat icky hair in my face and I'm desperately trying not to exert myself too much so I wont poop my pants, he runs up and down the ramp squealing with delight as he knows he's totally duking me. I am firmly telling him he will get hurt if he does not stop, but his brother is laughing and encouraging him to keep it up. As the panic of him getting hurt rises into my throat, the frustration is as well. And there's also the whole, I'm about to poop my pants bit too.
               Luke runs around a corner and out of my sight and I have no idea if he's about to fall off a the five foot ledge. I run after him to see he's okay, and I scoop down to pick him up telling him firmly, "we need to go now, luke" When he slams both hands (one which was holding my keys) as hard as he can into my face, knocking off my glasses and putting  a hurt on my nose and upper lip that brought stars to my eyes. Well, I did something next that I'm not proud of. I picked up my glasses (thankfully they were not broken) and I grabbed luke by his arm, and swatted his bottom for the first time, then the second and third. then holding him by his arm, facing out from me so he couldn't take another shot, I march down the ramp to my oldest, who had stopped laughing at this point, after realizing how serious things just got, I scold him for not practicing what we just read from the scripture.
             Luke is howling, not because he was hurt, but because I just stopped his fun. He was very very mad.  I put him in his car seat and he has stopped howling and switched to bugging me for a toy. This kid! I tell him that he cannot hit! Realizing that I just hit him, such a loser I am! He looks into my face and starts crying and it dawns on me that maybe he is getting old enough to hold himself accountable for what he had done/ he seemed truly sorry.
             I get into the drivers seat and look at my face in the rear view.  I am red above my lip and only a bit of blood coming from a small cut. I made it out okay. But I  feel terrible still that I swatted the baby on his butt and that I had to carry him that way.  This is definitely one of those days that I felt overwhelmed and out numbered!
             The rest of the day went okay, no more poopy diapers from Luke and I didn't poop my pants, so that is a plus. Now I just have to forgive myself for my complete mom-fail and let go of the mommy guilt I am feeling.
             Have you ever had a day like this? I have more good days then bad, but today is definitely a day I came out feeling like a loser.
                 with guilt,
                     Mother of Hobbits
            

She is Just to Sensitive

              This post has been on the edge of my mind for a while now. I try to type it up, but then I just think its not enough, I'm not explaining it right, and hit delete and walk away.
               It should be said. I need to write about it. Make sense of it. Make sense of me. I am a woman in progress. I am a tortured soul. I am trying to heal.
If someone like me, can in fact...heal.

           3 years ago I lost my mother. Its no secret, I talk about it often on here, and have mentioned it many times out loud. One thing I don't mention ever, is that a few months later, I lost my sister too.

           She wasn't my sister by blood. But I believe God intended us to be connected spiritually. We met when I was 16 and she was 13 and we connected instantly. Her family connected with me too, and it was like we had always known each other. We spent every single day together after school, and later on went to college together taking on the same classes and then spending time after classes just being together. We never grew tired of each other, WE NEVER ONCE FOUGHT.  In fact, I don't think we ever disagreed on anything.
             We had one of those quirky relationships were we could look at each other and have a conversation without moving our lips. it came in handy later on, when we would be approached by out siders. it was our special talent.
        Later as I was searching for answers and trying to find religion I belonged in, she started classes at a different college, and I went on and got married, and started having a family, we didn't spend everyday with each other anymore, but it never felt like we were apart.
        She was in Israel studying to be a better Jew, as she had found her religion during this period, when she sensed I was pregnant with my oldest. She called and told me she already knew, before I could plan a creative way to tell her.
       YES. It was like that. She later found her husband and got married, and I sensed something at her wedding, like something had severed our tie a bit. But I ignored it, she was happy, and I wanted her to be happy.
       Later on she and her husband were in Israel again, and we were only able to email each other when she could get to a library and when I could get to a library. One morning I awoke and the first thing that came to my mind was, she was pregnant. JOY!
                I didn't intend to go to the library that day but when I did to email her and confirm, she had already emailed me earlier, confirming.
       So one thing was, besides my mother, She was the only other person that I could completely let my guard down with. The only person that loved me unconditionally. I didn't need to prove anything to her, EVER.
       As she grew closer to her faith, and became to live a life so different then mine, she grew more distant from me. I felt things severing, but I continued to ignore them. I just kept grasping to her. When she was in the states, I tried to set up play dates. I tried to ignore the feeling that she was far away, even when she was in my house.
        Until one day, a few months after my mom had died, I couldn't ignore it anymore. I saw her brother post on facebook that he had a new niece. I didn't even know she was pregnant.

         Flash back to my teens and my twenties, whilst we were friends, I had other friends too. I was continuously hurt by most. I had guys I thought I could love or that could love me, most just used me for my kindness, as most of the friends had done and spit me out when they no longer needed me, or I became 'old news'.
                    I also learned that if you let people in, and you humble yourself before people, they will use your weakness against you.
          Over the years, I began to shield myself from new people, from people I only slightly new. I learned to guard myself from most everyone, except from my mom and from my 'sister'.
          At my mothers funeral I didn't cry. I sat with a stone face, a brave face, for everyone. I wanted to show no emotion, because I have learned that when you are vulnerable, people will hurt you. It wasn't until I sat by her casket at the graveyard and realized we were leaving her body there forever that i couldn't not hold the flood of tears back any longer. I knew her body was just a vessel, i knew she was standing beside my saying goodbye before her soul walked into the mist to the Heavens, but I couldn't help myself. Her being gone, was real.
            Then months later, as the few relatives and friends that showed concern for me dissipated and they went on back to their normally scheduled lives and I was left grieving and alone, I learned what I had feared, 'sister' was gone too.
              I don't think about her at all. I didn't grieve for her for long either. I forget she exists, except for when she left a message on my answering machine after Luke was born, and I angrily wondered how did she even know. It bothers me when people do things because they feel its the right thing to do, not because they want to. I deleted the message from the machine and my mind.
            I have deleted us from my mind. I have brought her back now, to write this out, to show to others why I chose to sit alone, or why I don't share, or cry or seem like a robot.

           I am not a snob. I do not think I  am better then you.
       I just can not bring myself to let my guard down, because I can not bring myself to hurt anymore for people.
        I feel everything, even in a room with many, i feel all of their emotions, i have always been that way.
        Maybe its Gods plan, using me to help others. But because of this, my feelings get hurt easily, my heart breaks at the slightest blow, and because of this I will not let my guard down.

          I have let ONE  person see me cry in the past 3 years since my moms funeral. ONE.  and its not who you would think, either.

          I have let myself cry for my sister one time after her passing. ONCE.

          So with this being said, I am not asking for pity, but simply to explain my reasons why I sit alone at church, why I make polite chit-chat but will often bolt if things get too personal.
       Why, if we start hanging out and you suddenly don't see me much anymore, chances are you said something that triggered a warning and I felt the need to retreat into my safe place. It probably was unintentional and not even significant, but alas, I am extra cautious for good reason.
          Its not that I enjoy being alone, Its that I feel like I just cant have it any other way. If the people who were supposed to love me the most, could hurt me so deep, or be taken away so quickly,  then I just cant imagine a life where anyone else could care for me without intentions to hurt me.
          sincerely,
            Hobbit Mommy
             

        

3 year Angelversary

          There is so much to the story that leads up to the morning three years ago.  One day I will get to that point. Right now I will talk about the last day with my mom.

             She had to have emergency surgery two days prior because she had a tumor blocking her airways. She was not able to come out of sedation, nor breathe on her own. My dad called and said that the doctor wasn't hopeful that she would come out of it ever. She was too far gone.


         We need to make the decision to take her off of life support, and ...let...her....go.
 He seemed so sure that it was the right thing to do, so I wanted to support him. In the back of my head, I just wasn't sure. What if we kept her on life support, and she did come out of it? I couldn't let her go.

       The whole recollection of which day was what is blurry. I cannot remember if it was at night that everyone was there to say goodbye, and the next day we waited for the doctor to take off her support.
     I know that my aunt was there to see her and when she came back she just cried.
Then it was my turn to go and my cousin came with me. I didn't know it until later, but he said as I was holding onto him I was digging my nails into his back. I was trying to stay strong for my mom, and not cry.
    I couldn't prepare myself to see her in what I knew was going to be a bad state, seeing how my aunt cried when she came back to the waiting room. I knew when I saw her hooked up to breathing tubes and tubes coming out of her nose and she could barely open her eyes that this is not what she wanted. I remembered then that she asked me a while back, to never let her be on life support.
    We were watching a show, and there was someone on life support and she said, "I don't ever want to be like that, don't ever let me be hooked up to machines".    
   I second guessed myself of course later on that long day, what if now that she is here, she wants us to give her a chance? I still wonder. Did we do the right thing. Could she have lived?
  When I went back to the waiting room I just sat and cried. My mama, my poor mama.
Every time I went  sit with her and I talked to her she would open her eyes long enough to let a tear out.
   It killed me that she so badly wanted to live, and I had no idea if she was hurting and crying because she was scared, or was she at peace? I hated that she felt that way, and for a really long time afterwards I just cried for her because of those last moments for her. It killed me that she had to go through that.
     I constantly feel regret that I did not stay with her that night after they took of her life support. The doctor didn't come until after we had been there for nearly 9 hours, I had Eve who was just a little baby then and was at the end of her rope. So I felt I needed to go home at some point to put her to bed, but as I think now she would have been okay without me one night. My mama needed me for her last. I wish I had just curled up next to her and stayed with her until her last breath.
    But instead she died alone.
The whole night as I lay in my bed trying to sleep I tossed and turned and thought about her and prayed for God to preform a miracle. I prayed so hard. When I finally fell asleep it was still dark but the birds were starting to wake, and what seemed like a few moments later I woke to the sound of my mothers voice saying  " I'm ok, Liz".    
I opened my eyes and it was light outside, I went downstairs to get breakfast and get dressed so we can go back to the hospital but then my dad called. He said the nurse called and said she passed an hour ago. Right around the time I had awoken to her voice. God didn't preform the miracle  I was praying for, but a different one. I got to hear her voice one last time.

     3 years feels like nothing,yet so much has happened since then, And so much more will continue to happen without her here. She visits me in my dreams, and I know she is with me in spirit. Mom, I will love you more still everyday as I appreciate more and more what you did for me growing up. And I am still learning from my  memories of you  how to be a better person.
   Miss you bunches mommy.
  

 

Pranksters

Meet my two oldest children.

Did I say children? I meant to say  Elves. Tricky little elves. Pranksters in training. They have learned from the best. And by the best, I mean me.

You never think your kids are watching everything you do, until they reenact it in public.

We go food shopping at Trader Joes, once a week. Its a small store, in a smallish town, full of friendly people (I travel far from the city to go) and spend about an hour gliding (ok more so ransacking) the aisles in search of healthy ingredients.

As we hit the check out line, I will start bagging into my reusable environmentally responsible bags while Talon fills out this little "ticket" with my name and phone number in the  case my ticket gets picked and we win the 100 dollar gift card to the store. 

The kind check out clerk will give my children (all three) a half a roll of stickers and they will spend the trip home sticking them to each other and to the windows of the car. (I wasn't planning on getting much for the car during the trade in, eh?)

This particular trip as I was bagging our groceries and thinking out a way to keep the babies awake during the trip home so they will nap decently when we get home, I hear a lot of laughter and giggles coming from the oldest elves.  As I pay for my groceries and place the bags into the shopping cart I go to push the cart of groceries and one adorable chunky baby out to the lot when a man stops me by saying "miss? You have a sticker on your, ya know, your butt"

I turn around  to look at the man speaking to me and see that everyone in the front of the store checking out and standing in line, is not only looking at me, but laughing at me hysterically. Cashiers included. The man then laughs a lot, and my trickster elves, are cracking up. Can we say a lunch room scene from scary mean teen movies?

I stop myself from blushing, remove the sticker from my behind,  thank the man for his sparing me of life long trauma, give my elves my best "your in trouble" look, then I march as quick as I can down to the car with the kids in question in tow.

The minute I stop at the car, I swing around and in my most authoritative voice demand "Who stuck that sticker on my HINEY?!" As I say this, a few of the costumers who were laughing at me moments before, were walking past, and then proceeded to stifle laughter.

The kids giggled again and I realized, I created these two. This is my own doing. Had I been given the stickers, they probably would be walking around still today with them on THEIR hineys.

The end.

Hobbit Beagle

We have a dog. His name is Henry, and he is a beagle. Beagle means floppy ears, sweet disposition, dances for food, barks in his sleep (and only in his sleep) eats everything, chews your favorite things, and destroys dreams of ever having a clean home.

This is what leaving your house for thirty minutes will do.

Then you go to say "Henry did you do this?" In a stern voice, and you get this face. and those floppy ears, and he will most likely bow his head and put his tail between his legs slowly approaching me as if to say "I was just trying to search the trash/chew your shoes/eat your dinner to show you how much I love you!" And all is forgotten as I am cleaning up, or preparing myself something else to eat.

Last Christmas I was blessed with some pennies from heaven by an anonymous group of friends. So I was able to go to the store and actually buy a toy for each of my children to wrap and gift for Christmas morning. The blessings kept coming because as I shopped around the toy store, everything was on sale. I mean not a few dollars off, but a ridiculous amount off. I managed to get two toys each for my children and a toy for my  nephew. One of the toys I got for my daughter was a Breyer horse set. It came with a barn, and four horses. She didn't seem as elated about it as I did, so they haven't really been played with much, but a few months ago, my baby Luke found one of the horses, and has claimed it as his own. He carries it around, he kisses and cuddles it. I think after seeing a real live horse, finding this miniature toy version made him happy.

The other day he found his beloved horse, on the floor, with gashes all over him, and his poor foot gone. The horse, had been beagled. Little baby Luke took the horse to everyone in the house, and grunted while shoving the foot in our faces and pointing to it. Franticly he was telling us, his horsey was maimed! 

 

 

 

 

He still loves his horse, but now we all are a bit more careful about leaving it on the floor.

So Henry, the furry hobbit, the beagle bandit is certainly a loveable dog with flaws. We love him anyways. He fits perfectly into our little household and definitely fits in as one of our hobbit children whom I will introduce you to, tomorrow.

 

Until then,

Mother of Hobbits

The Motherless Mother

       It is coming upon the third anniversary of my mothers death. Three years. I try to digest just what that time means. It means something different for everyone. Those who have gotten used to her not being here, those who have taken the steps to move on. Those who have mourned, healed and went on to accept her death. Then there is me, who is still living that time, like a record skipping. I think I took a step forward, only to be snatched back into the horror of her being gone. 
    I think this is because I have spent the time since her death, trying desperately to appear "put together" for those who were also greatly affected by her death. I have been the rock, the sturdy strong woman who will put the pieces back of everyone else.
    While most everyone else has moved on, and have been taking steps forward, I've been stuck in this reel of thinking I can step forward but only to be thrown back into the darkness. 
      I think its time, I tell our story. It will be told in sections, as much I can tell at once. Bare with me.
       The photograph above is so special to me. It was the photograph that literally held me together when I had to be away from my mom. She gave it to me during my first day of all day school. To comfort me since I wouldn't be with her all day, and for me that was so very hard.
      As a youngster I sure did love my mother. I wanted to be around her all the time. I wanted to help her out and know everything that she was doing. If she was in the kitchen, I was there too. If she went to the bathroom to get something, you bet I was right there asking her what she was doing.
     Friends? Who needed friends? I was hanging with my mommy! Brother? Who is that?! I was hanging with my mommy! Going to school all day was a very hard pill for me to swallow. She would literally beg me to get out of the car in the morning and walk into school. "How could I just leave her like that?" I'd think. "Who would follow her around and hold her hand? Who would help her in the kitchen?"  
      I worried that before she could come back to get me from school something terrible would happen to her and I would never see her again. Even as a small child I had major anxiety about everything. One morning as I sat in the car crying, and she sat beside me ever so patiently trying to build my confidence up so that I would get out already and get a grip, she handed me this photo that was taken the year before, at my brothers special education class. His teacher and him put a little birthday party together for me when mom and me came to pick him up. We had popcorn and wore party hats. It was very thoughtful of my brother, actually the last time he ever did anything nice for me (but that is another story). And the teacher took this photo. My mom and me smack in the center, and my brother proudly smiling over me, with all of his friends.
       If I missed my mom, Id sneak a peak inside my desk to see her face. Id remind myself of what she'd say "Ill see you in just a couple of hours. "  
      

 

Thinking back, my mother had the patience of a saint, putting up with all of my silliness over the course of my young life. I was a prankster, I was strong-willed, hard headed and downright TRYING child. I did not realize just how ungratefully draining I had to be for her until she wasn't here anymore. We had talked over many of our grievances. We made amends  to a lot of our fights, and even realized what the root, or should I say WHO the root of the problem was with the last two fights we had before she passed (again, another story for another post) but it wasn't until the last year or so of my dealing with my own little mini me child, just how much patience she had with me. She was truly a selfless mother.

 

The "I don't want to lose my Mom and the I would give up everything to have my mom be here with me" part came a lot quicker for me. I do feel bad for myself about this, I do. Not going to lie. I selfishly want my mom back because I MISS HER AND I NEED HER. But most of all, I am mad that she has to miss her grand babies growing up. She really sincerely enjoyed them. She sincerely loved them. She sincerely wanted to be around them and do things with them all the time. But she only got to meet two of the grand babies I made for her, and she never really got to know her granddaughter at all. Eve was 9 months when she passed away.

She never got to know that this little girl of mine is a mini version of her grandma! She love shoes, and nail polish, and dresses, and purses. Its not fair that Eve will never get to go get her nails done with grandma. Or go shoe shopping. Or get their hair done. Or have a spa day. Or just call each other up and chat about make-up. My mother  always purposed to spend time and love on Talon. He knew her love, and that makes me happy. Its sad however, to see him hurt for his grandma too. When you know love and its then lost, its a great loss. What a cruel thing for a child to feel. I really hate cancer. HATE it.  

I think I will end this here for now. I wish that I can bring her back. But I cannot, (and if I have learned anything from bad 90s horror films, it never ends well if I could) I will simply stop focusing on helping others in their grief, and start to work on my own. Standing still in the dark hole looking down towards the ground isn't any way to live. God Bless. Till next time.

 

Sincerely,

 The motherless mother of hobbits

 

 

     

The House Of Spiders

               I run my own housekeeping business. Its real complex, let me tell you about it. Its me. I have my bucket full of all natural cleaners, some sponges, my mop and my dust pan and brush. I advertise on my own, set up my own appointments, confirm them, and keep them. I clean the houses top to bottom and get the job done, so to speak. Todays  house though, I was also my own spider getter. *shudders*
            Maybe to YOU this wasn't a big deal. But to ME, this was practically speaking, a pretty hard thing to chew. Something outright unnatural happens to me when I see a spider. I am not sure why this happens, but it has always happened for as long as I can remember. Maybe it was watching "Arachnophobia" with my mom as a small child. Or the hours I spent in the small concrete play house under the backyard porch. Years of therapy might get us to the route of this problem, but since there is no time or money for that, I will continue on to say, the fear is bad baby, the fear is BAD. I see it, and there is a jolt that comes deep within my body, then that electricity feeling you get when your heart suddenly forgets its supposed to be in your chest and leaps up into your throat and then, suddenly Im squealing, jumping up and down while flapping my hands like if by doing so, I will surely fly away. Doing this dance, mind you, in my sudden panic, will certainly make the offending beast retreat.        
                             But retreat it does not! Oh no, not these 8 hairy legged creatures! They come TO me, as if instead of sending warning signals with my "spider jig" I was doing some sort of love dance! Now normally, if I were in my own home, I would do this dance then run away. Grabbing the children and hiding with them in a safe place until I was certain the spider was gone. If hubby is home I will call on him to save all of our lives and release this spider into the wild! But since I was there, in the House of Spiders to clean it, I had to take these dire matters into my own two hands! Im running a honest business here after all....So I had to roll up my sleeves, and grab my dust brush, and do the unthinkable....
                           I had to kill the spiders. I wasn't even through the first room and I had felt like a mass murderer! See, I don't like spiders, but I don't feel they should die for it! As I got to the other rooms, I saw more spiders, but these ones seemed bigger then before, and more threatened by the spider jig, maybe their brothers and sisters and cousins and uncles had warned them about their enemy? All spiders were retreating to dark places that I couldn't reach.
                             I took this as them calling a truce. Waving the white flag! We surrender! We will leave on our own accord and will not return until you leave and we feel it safe.
                             So client that I cleaned for today, I did not rid you of all the spiders, but you are at least 20 down, and as I am confident that I did, in good conscious, kill all the dust bunnies, and grime monsters, you may in time, find that your moths are caught up in the webs, once more.
                               I will end my epic night with a whole hearted apology to all of those that I have made suffer tonight, and beg you please have mercy on my soul.
                                                   sincerely,
                                                Mother of Hobbits