Halloween Ideas for The Lazy Mom

This is my husband and me from 3 years ago, before we had our kid.

This is my husband and me from 3 years ago, before we had our kid.

Halloween is really annoying in Los Angeles because everybody here is gorgeous, looks HAWT in sexy costumes, and probably plays make believe for a living.  It’s just the worst.  As you can see from the picture above, I was TERRIBLE at Halloween and always covered myself in something stupid to rebel against the “have to be sexy” thing.

I hated Halloween before I had my daughter, but afterwards, Halloween has become fun again.  It’s not about looking hot as “Slutty Female Harry Potter,” it’s about dressing your child in a cute costume.  It’s not about worrying if you look fat in that “Slutty Angela Merkel” costume that all the kids will be wearing, it’s about getting as fat as you possibly can by stuffing your face with your kid’s Snickers because too much sugar is a bad thing for them… not you… you’re PERFECT when you eat too much.  It’s not about worrying if a zillion other people have your dumb, timely pun-based costume (you are NOT the only person going as the Slutty Debt Ceiling, I promise), but you worry that too many kids will knock over your child running for that bowl of candy that lazy neighbor left outside of their house.

The point is, Halloween as a parent is liberating and fun once again; however, sometimes you do have to dress up (UGH… I swear my parents NEVER had to dress up for Halloween but I guess our generation does) so I wrote a list of potential costumes:

  1. ZOMBIE MOMMY:  This one is really scary, yet completely easy to accomplish.  Just don’t wear any make-up and let your natural sleep deprivation work in your favor.  Seriously, if you saw me in my natural state you’d be frightened and think that The Walking Dead was fer realz.
  2. GLAM MOMMY: Don’t wear any make-up except a “Statement Lip.”  That’s right, if you wear a sharp, crimson lipstick or a fun fuchsia, people will think you’re as fashion forward as a goddamn French woman… because you cared just a little bit more than you normally do.
  3. SPORTY MOMMY: You pretend it’s 1995 and the amazing Spice Girls are in their heyday.  You wear a pair of sweatpants and pull your hair into a tight, greasy-as-hell ponytail and you’re ready to rock… and if anybody says you’re “Just wearing sweatpants like you normally do,” you can aggressively sing, “Wannabe” and then walk away.
  4. BLOATED MOMMY: This one embraces Halloween candy you’ll steal from your child.  Just eat like 12 mini Twix while donning your tightest skinny jeans.  Within minutes, this costume creates itself.  M-EEEOOOWWW… you’re a sex-pot.
  5. TIME TRAVEL MOMMY:  Wear the same clothes you wore yesterday and then, BOOM!  You’re in a sci-fi adventure where space and time bend to your laziness.  I can’t tell you how many times I just wear the same thing like three days in a row so this one really excites me.

That’s it… I hope you have an amazing Halloween.  And, if you actually do one of these costume ideas, PLEASE send me a pic!

Ways to Procrastinate


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If you’re like me, you’re really great at procrastinating.  Have to pay that water bill?  Read an article on Gawker.  Need to finish that rewrite?  Open a new tab and read some New York Magazine.  Anything that has to do with cleaning?  Go back to Gawker because maybe, just maybe, this article won’t outrage you quite as much.

Point is – I am fantastic at procrastinating.  But, if you feel like you’re in a “Procrastination Slump” and you’re actually accomplishing things and feeling good about yourself (you weirdo), here is a list of things you can do to waste time like a normal person:

1.  Go to Facebook and start lightly cyber-stalking someone you don’t know.  This accomplishes two things: 1) it’s not that fun because, probably, this person is kind of boring and 2) it can waste an inordinate amount of time.  Yay!

2.  Try on old jeans from before you were pregnant.  Even if you’ve lost all the weight, chances are they fit you weirdly now that you’ve had your tiny munchkin.  The benefit of trying on old jeans?  You’ll feel awful about yourself and this self-pity will take loads of time.

3.  Google “gun debate” and then read the comment sections on articles.  If you’re on either side of this debate, these comments will definitely rile you up and accomplish absolutely nothing.  Think of it as a win-win!

4. Read anything about a celebrity ever.  It’s a total waste of time, it doesn’t do anything, and it keeps you from reading more important things… so enjoy!  I like to do this one when I have anything important to do.

5.  Read a fitness magazine.  This is a great one if: 1) you’re feeling good about yourself and 2) you no longer want to feel good about yourself.  These magazines recycle about ten different stories and they’re always the same: “You can still eat the foods you love and lose the weight.”  These magazines are a bunch of nonsense with a ton of advertisements so they’re great!  You’ll read it and learn nothing.  Fantastic!

6.  If you’re like me and have videos of work you’ve done up on Youtube, there will be comment sections.  These comment boards will say things like, “I hate YOU!” and “You have horse teeth and bad posture.”  Reading these comments doesn’t take that much time so it shouldn’t be that great for procrastination but… the amount of anxiety and self-hatred you’ll feel afterwards will more than make up for it.  Go ahead and read mean comments about yourself.  You’ll totally regret it… which is the point.

7.  Complain to your family and friends.  This is one of my favorite procrastination techniques.  Rather than actually making positive steps toward life goals, I like to complain about how things aren’t going my way.  This is a fantastic form of wasting time because it not only doesn’t do shit, it also drives your loved ones away.  Yippee!

8. Masturbate.  Wait… this isn’t really a waste of time unless you’re doing it too much in which case… c’mon.  You’re an adult.

9. Watch puppy videos.  Again… actually, this is good for you.  Go ahead, just don’t go crazy.  I mean, like 7 per hour max, okay?

10.  Play a goddamn video game on your goddamn phone.  This is seriously the worst and stop it.  Just stop it!  You’re not crushing candy; you’re crushing your dreams and just stop it.  The graphics aren’t even that great and the game is definitely not that fun.  Stop. It.

That’s it!  Have fun wasting time!

Old Friends


An old picture of me from fourth grade. I was a real looker.

Since I gave birth to my daughter, my friendships have shifted.  A lot of this occurred because, after I gave birth, the focus became my kid.  In the very beginning, I was simply trying to keep my child alive and, when I wasn’t, I was trying to sneak in a nap in order to NOT kill my child.  In essence, at the beginning of parenthood, it is all about you and your family’s survival.  Literally.  This isn’t an exaggeration (well, it’s kind of an exaggeration but I’m a huge fan of hyperbole.)

Therefore, these initial months of motherhood can make you kind of an asshole to outsiders – many of whom are your friends.

You can’t go out last-minute to Happy Hour because you can’t do anything last-minute (you can’t even shower).  You can’t go to that amazing pilates class that everyone is raving about because you can’t get a sitter.  You can’t always be there for your friends in a way that you used to be (ie, able to talk at 2:30 in the morning about a break-up because you’re snoring on the couch covered in your child’s vomit and you didn’t hear the phone.)

Some friends take this in stride and are still there for you and some friends kind of go a different way.  They assume you can’t do things anymore because, well, you usually can’t.  It’s not their fault and it’s not entirely your fault; it is what it is.

And then your child is a toddler and she’s in Day Care and you are sleeping regularly and don’t feel insane anymore but your friends have moved on.  I’m not saying ALL your friends have moved on but a lot of friends have because, well, your behavior was necessarily selfish for a while (go back to the part about just trying to keep your child alive for the first few months.)

The result of this phenomenon has been that, for me, I now have to initiate almost all social interactions.  I was so focused on my child and was so sleep deprived  and was also trying to get back to work that I seemed disinterested in my friendships and now, this is the result.  I have to be more proactive about reaching out to old friends (rekindling the friend-flame) and it’s been rough sometimes.  I’ve felt a little rejected and sometimes pretty lonely (I also attribute this to moving out to the suburbs), but I get it.  I understand why this happened and I definitely played a large part.

But to people who have friends that are having babies, let me say that it might suck for a while, but unless your mom friend is a total dick, she’ll be back.  Don’t give up on her and think she’ll be an asshole for the rest of her life.

And to my mom friends, reach out.  Don’t just expect your old friends to call you because, most likely, you’ve been absent in their lives; but that’s alright.  Sometimes, these things aren’t personal and are just normal phases in life.  Just because you are in a different phase than your friend, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t still love there.

Vacation with a Toddler: An Adventure in NOT Getting R&R

Last weekend, my husband and I went on a mini-vacation for our wedding anniversary… with our toddler.  I know what you’re thinking, “That’s a FANTASTIC idea for a romantic getaway!  Bringing your tiny 20 month-old along with you to a hotel sounds like a recipe for romance!”

Au contraire.  While you may think our weekend was just 48 hours of champagne and back rubs (and some X-Rated stuff), it wasn’t.  Our weekend was fun, it was an adventure, and it was massively tiring – but it wasn’t “Rest and Relaxation.”

On Friday, we headed up to Idyllwild, California – a lovely place we hadn’t previously visited.  It was great!  It was woodsy and outdoorsy – full of hippies and some “methed-out” folks.  They even had a Nature Center that had easy hikes my lazy butt could handle.  Here’s the requisite “Put Your Head on a Woodland Creature” shot from that part of the trip:


From there we headed to Palm Springs which was, well, HOT.  Palm Springs tricks you into visiting it during the summer because really posh hotels have incredibly cheap rates and so you think, “I can handle this heat because it’s dry heat.  Dry heat is the kind of heat I can handle, right?”  WRONG.  Palm Springs is just hot, like stupid hot.  I know what else you’re thinking, “You went to a resort, didn’t you just hang out in the pool?”  Yeah, I did… but only after sunset because I have a skin tone called “I’m Gonna Get Skin Cancer Before 40!”  So… we did go in the pool at 7 P.M. and it was delightful.  My daughter was splashing and having fun.  We even gave her a pool-side cocktail (orange juice watered down with well… water) while we had a few real cocktails.

Then came dinner or, as I like to call it, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”  We were stupid and took our hungry, tired, diaper-rashed daughter to a fancy restaurant with a mostly childless clientele.  DUMB!  She was really cool until my expensive glass of wine arrived at which point she had her first major temper tantrum ever.  I’m not saying this was her first temper tantrum in public; it was her first tantrum period.  And it was epic.  I immediately picked her up and took her outside of the restaurant and tried to soothe her.  She wriggled; she fought me; she tried to claw my eye balls out.  I told her I loved her and tried to calm her down.

No dice.  She was pissed off.

We ended up asking for our meal to go (and I ended up foregoing that expensive glass of vino) and we walked back to our resort in the godforsaken Palm Springs heat.

The minute we got back to the hotel, my daughter was all smiles and giggles because… of course!  No matter – we had good food to eat and she was tired.  We put her to bed, ate our meals, and crashed.

And then it happened.  My daughter could not sleep. Nay! She WOULD not sleep in her crib.  She was nearly as tall as the hotel crib and was uncomfortable so we brought her into bed with us.  Romantic, right?  I do have to say, I did get a little action though.  Not to sound crass but I got pounded in the vagina throughout the night.  “Gross!” you’re definitely thinking.  Yeah, it was pretty gross that my child kept KICKING me squarely in my baby-maker.  I kept on turning and, I swear to you, she kept on punching me directly in my vag.  It’s like she’s secretly a soccer phenom but her sport involves lady parts and not balls.

At any rate, by the next day we were exhausted.  We woke up at 6 a.m. because that is when my daughter wanted to wake up.  I figured I got approximately 70 minutes of actual sleep the night before – perfect!  We walked outside and, surprisingly, it was lovely.  Our daughter’s desire to “not sleep” meant that we were outside before it was terribly hot.  We went on a lovely long walk and ate at a deli and then this happened for over four hours:


We napped like motherfucking champions.  At around 3 in the afternoon we finally rallied and went to the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway.  Have I mentioned yet that Palm Springs is hot – like so hot you think you’re stuck inside the devil’s buttcrack hot?!  Well, it is but this tramway takes you up to San Jacinto State Park which is in the mountains and is roughly 30 degrees cooler than the desert below.  I cannot recommend the tramway enough – it’s totally worth it.  The views were spectacular, the hiking was fun, and it was literally cool(er) than Palm Springs. 

From the tramway, we went to an Indian restaurant in a stripmall because we had learned our lesson about fancy restaurants the night before.  Did Moira have another meltdown?  Of course not – because it wasn’t posh and wouldn’t have been sufficiently embarrassing.  She behaved like a little angel.  Then, because she was good and we wanted something sweet, we went for ice cream.  We were in heaven; she was in heaven (she’s related to me so she loves ice cream.)

The day was lovely, but after the sunset comes night and, along with night, came the vaginal pummeling once more. Again, this was not some kind of “S&M” sexy pummeling – it was more violent and surprisingly strong.  It was like my daughter has a homing device to my vagina.  She is subconsciously like, “This is from whence I came.  This is where I should punch my mother.”

Needless to say, Sunday came and we got the hell outta Dodge.  We returned to Los Angeles by way of the outlet malls (to get Moira some shoes and because I’m a Basic Bitch and needed my J.Crew.)  Then we came back to our little house and slept.  And slept some more.  And then also slept on top of that sleeping.

I guess my point is that vacation with your kid(s) is fun and an adventure.  I would have loved it if just my husband and I went away… but then I would have missed seeing things through my daughter’s hilarious eyes.  Sure, she can have tantrums.  Yes, she’s an unpredictable short drunk person who is at one moment sweet and the next moment angry-as-hell; but, I loved going on the trip with her.

So… I don’t regret that this is how we spent our anniversary.  Was it relaxing?  No way – but that’s kind of like parenthood.  It’s tiring and sometimes hard but then it’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced.  And, as for the romance, my husband and I are going on a date night without our daughter this weekend because, while kids are fun, having sex is also very, very fun.

Sleep Regression (AKA My Toddler is Trying to Murder Me)


Recently, my daughter thinks it’s HILARIOUS to wake up at 5 in the morning.  To my daughter, this means more playing with “Baby” (her baby doll), Kiki (her butt wipes… she likes to pretend to scrub floors with these), and “Mickey” (this one is easy… it’s a Mickey Mouse stuffed animal we got her at Disneyland.)

While my daughter thinks it’s the funniest thing ever to wake me up while I’m still trying desperately to recover from being perma-tired – I feel like I’m dying.  I truly feel like my child is murdering me in the cutest, most innocent way possible.  As she stands in her crib, staring at me with those adorable blue eyes, I know she is plotting my death.  As she smiles at me with her full set of teeth (I honestly didn’t know an 18 month-old could have so many chompers) – I know that her smile is her attempt to ease my pain as I slowly say good-bye to this world.  As she giggles, “Mama,” I know my precious moments on this planet are numbered.

My death won’t happen right away – my toddler’s methods are ingenious and well planned.  She wouldn’t want any evidence to point toward her – she’s too cunning for that.  Therefore, I won’t die doing something obvious like falling asleep at the wheel.  My daughter would derive no pleasure from this.  No, I’m going to die simply from being tired.  “How?” you may ask.  I’m not sure.  I just know that the level of fatigue I feel right now is killing me.

I should probably call the cops and let them know that my toddler, who is undergoing sleep regression, is attempting to murder me.  Should I call 9-1-1 or just drive directly to my local police station and die in front of the cops?

Or maybe should I nap?  Hmm… that seems too simple.  It seems too rational and “adult.”  Gross.

Ugh… I’ll nap.  You win this round, toddler.  I know you aren’t truly evil (just your methods definitely undermine the Geneva Convention.)  I love you too much, you jerk.  I’m just so tired.  So. Tired.

Transcendent Mommy Moments


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A weird picture my husband took of me.

A weird picture my husband took of me.

As a neurotic person, I’m often stuck in my own head.  Strike that, I’m ALWAYS stuck in my head.  On the rare occasions I do yoga, instead of concentrating on my flowing breath, I’m envying that instructor’s glorious butt muscles – so I fall down like an idiot.  When I’m checking out at the grocery store, I’m thinking whether or not to splurge and get a soda, so when the employee says, “Thanks for shopping at Ralph’s,” I say, “YOU TOO.”  Again, I’m an idiot.  When my husband and I “do it,” I try to stay in the moment, but more likely am thinking, “You CANNOT eat as much ice cream next time before sex because you will have gas and holding farts in during sexy times is empirically NOT sexy.”

Having a child brings you me out of this neurotic, never-ending inner monologue… for brief moments.  She’s so cute, and insane, and funny (and INSANE) that I necessarily have to get out of my own head for a second and focus on her.  I LOVE this part of parenting. 

It creates a lot of beautiful moments.  When I give my daughter a bath, she gets a glint of mischief in her eyes and then splashes me with all her strength. Subsequently, a huge guffaw emanates from her tiny body creating waves in the tub.  I love to see her laugh.  I love when she says a word out of nowhere.  The other day, our dog did something naughty (I love him but he’s kind of an asshole) and she looked at him, rolled her eyes and said, “Oh… pupp-eh!”  It was like she was a tiny version of me (only with much prettier skin.)  I love it when she runs at me, at top speeds, and then grabs my crotch.  It’s her way of hugging me and, although it’s pretty violent, it’s adorable.

I love these moments that pull me out of my own, semi-crazy head and into the present moment.  Before I get too gushy, however, let me share a TRULY transcendent moment from last night.  My daughter and I were playing out in the backyard.  We were running around the shed and the garden (she loves when I chase her) and she crashed into a rose bush.  I know!  Wonderful parenting! 

I felt terrible – she was crying, and she had huge scratches on her legs.  I comforted her and then we headed inside.  I took off her pants to examine the cuts – they were pretty gnarly.  Then, I got some soap and water to clean her up.  As I was getting this, my toddler escaped to the kitchen.  I walk in there and she’s on the floor, drinking from my poodle’s water dish, like a dog.  She’s acting like a dog.  I laugh (because, evidently, I like to encourage bad behavior.  She probably can’t die from this, right???)  Then, I take the dog bowl away.

My daughter doesn’t like that I took her “wa wa” away from her, so she looks me straight in the eyes and then starts peeing on the ground.  She aggressively peed in front of me.   Touché, toddler.  You win this round.

These are the moments of motherhood that get me out of my own stupid brain and into the moment.  It’s my own version of Zen – an extremely not-calm, wildly unpredictable version of Zen.

Check out My Sexy C-Section Scar


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Some women like their beautiful, six-pack abs.  These women like to go to places like “Coachella” or “Forever 21” – places that represent my idea of hell on earth.  Other women love their long legs.  They rock a short skirt and some kick-ass high heels and flaunt it – I wear clogs and tennis shoes like a goddamn middle aged Hobbit.  And still others like to show off their shapely butts – these are the fabulous ladies of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s dreams and Amy Schumer’s recent “Milk milk Lemonade video.”

(By the way, if you haven’t seen this video – SEE IT!:


I am not these women.  My abs are okay.  I’ll go to a beach in a bikini because I don’t really care and I like to swim.  My legs are fine and strong but they’re short so even if I wear Daisy Dukes, I look like a mom in a “nice, modest inseam” short – it’s hard to make my Lilliputian legs look revealing.  My butt is okay – but I would definitely never make the cut of a rap video… I probably wouldn’t even make the cut of a “mom butt video.”  My butt’s fine – but not something to write home about.

But my C-Section scar?  Gurrrrrl!  I don’t mean to brag but I received a compliment about my scar this morning.  You’re like, “What?!  You’re bragging.  Stop boasting, you arrogant bitch!”  But like Shakira’s hips, my C-section scar cannot lie – it’s GORGEOUS.

I was visiting my self-congratulatory gynecologist this morning and she was praising her own work on my C-Section.  “Your scar is amazing.”  Never one to NOT take a compliment, I fished for more.

“You’re just saying that because you did the surgery.  I bet you say that to all your patients.”

Then, my gyno looked me straight in the eyes.  Time stood still and romantic music started to play (I’m lying about those two things but she did make pretty decent eye contact.)  She said, “You can barely see your scar.  It has healed so beautifully.  Your scar is seriously the prettiest I have seen on any of my patients.”


So guys, I may not have remarkable legs, a taut stomach, or a nice-looking face – BUT I DO HAVE A C-SECTION SCAR THAT HEALED PRETTY NICELY.

And that’s enough… for now.

Resting Bitch Face


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I have a problem and I’ve had it since I was a wee child – I have resting bitch face.  You might think to yourself, “Wow, white lady!  Talk about a champagne problem!” And you’d be correct.  This is the Dom Perignon of sparkling wine problems; but I’d like to address it.

Whenever I’m thinking, I look like a total asshole.  When I was a child in math class, working out a problem in my big old head, I looked like a gigantic jerk because my thinking face is another woman’s bitch face.  If I’m deciding on a sandwich and it’s really hard because everything seems delicious and I’m starving; I look like a judgmental idiot.  Whenever I’m driving and don’t know where I’m going (which is ALWAYS when I’m driving) – I look like a dick.

So, if I ever pass you and my face screams, “I’m a bitch!” it’s probably just because I’m thinking.

Oh, and also, sometimes I’m just being a bitch.

Losing the Baby Weight


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Recently, I was asked how I lost my baby weight and, before I go into how it happened, I’d like to state that: I don’t think women should have to lose baby weight quickly if at all, and every single woman’s body is different.  I know women who gained fifty pounds during pregnancy and lost it in three months.  I know other women who gained only twenty-five pounds and it took them two years to take off the weight.  Women’s bodies are glorious and varied and that’s what I wanted to write first.

My journey toward being svelte quickly after childbirth happened in a weird way.  I strangely got hyperthyroidism after giving birth.  This is pretty rare but, in a nutshell, it isn’t fun.  Yes, you lose all sorts of weight (I honestly was thinner three weeks post-partum than I have EVER been in my entire adult life); but it comes with all sorts of negative things.  I was moody, I couldn’t sleep, and I woke up in sweats.  My husband had to bring towels into bed because I sweat so much during sleep; it was pretty gross.  To top it off, it ended in Post-Natal Depression which I’ve written about on this blog.


After I had my thyroid checked out – it quickly went back to normal.  It was a freak thing that, with a little help, went away.  Best of all, with help, I was no longer depressed.

When that went away – so did my size 0 skinniness; but, honestly, I didn’t miss it.  I felt weird being skinny – I felt weak.  I don’t like feeling weak; especially with my baby Moira.  She’s a hearty little girl and I need all the strength I have to carry her around and play with her.  I need my energy to be a working mom.

So I’m back to normal and that’s great.  I’m not super skinny; but I’m fine with that and, best of all, I’m strong.  To maintain my strength, I do yoga once a week, lift weights a couple of days a week, walk a lot, and take Zumba once a week.  Basically, I work out like a sassy retiree in Boca Raton – nothing too strenuous or for too long.  After having my baby, my hips are different.  Where as I used to run or do intense things like boot camp; I can’t do those anymore.  They hurt.  So, I do moderate things a few times a week when I can fit it in.

As for my diet, nobody wants to read it, but I eat everything in moderation.  It’s not sexy, but it’s the truth.  I eat carbs and chocolate every day.  Most nights, I have a glass of wine.  Sometimes I eat pizza but, when I do, I try to eat a salad on the side so I can get more nutrition.  I eat for energy but I also eat for fun – food is so amazingly wonderful and connects us.  I love cooking for my family (on the rare occasions that I do); I love traveling and trying out new cuisines; I want to be a positive role model to my little girl – eating everything but hopefully following hunger cues and eating as fresh as possible.

That’s it!  I appreciate the question but don’t know if that answers everything.  I look forward to any questions!

Shut Your Facebook


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Many people have a fabulous relationship with Facebook. I am not one of these people.

Let me explain.  I like many aspects of Facebook: reconnecting with long-lost friends; saying “Happy birthday” to an acquaintance in the laziest way possible; or having my Mom comment on things in hilarious ways that usually are waaaaaay too personal.  While I like certain facets of the Face(book); I hate others: the barrage of Humblebrags; the negative comments; the utter outrage and everything everywhere without any action.

Yesterday, I hit a wall while looking at my Facebook wall.  It seemed that every other post was about something nasty and negative and so I am taking a break.  I am no longer checking my Facebook because I need my sanity.  I’m too damn tired and stupid as it is – I need as much brainpower as possible.

For people on Facebook – do you need time away as well?  Do you take breaks?  What are your thoughts on it?  Is it natural to be able to see so much information about other people?  Is it normal to see only “cultivated” lives that are filtered and edited?  Is this healthy for us?