Confession

I gave a talk in church yesterday. Once a month, the topic for talks gets pulled from the 12 step book and this month was step 5, confession. I was so excited I was asked to speak and very pleased with the reception that my talk received, so I thought I would share it here! This is as it was written when I read it so I'm sure there are run on sentences and the like, but don't let that get you down too much.


I am Kate Payne, my husband David is a postgraduate researcher here at the university. We

have two small children, Sam who will be two this spring, and Josie who made her appearance

this past fall. You probably know us as the weird family who brings the dog to church. Majzy has

been a part of our family since New Year’s Eve 2011.


As I’m sure many of you have seen, she has a patch on her vest that says PTSD Service Dog.

For those unfamiliar with this term, PTSD stands for post traumatic stress disorder. Walking

around with what is probably my biggest vulnerability clearly displayed for all the world to see

has been quite the adjustment. It has also been one of the greatest healing tools I have found.

Ever since I was a child, I have lived with the truth that depression will cycle back to me; the

anxiety will return and with it the nightmares and the panic attacks. For all that time until

relatively recently, the spring of 2013, I also lived with shame. This sickness of mine was

something that I needed to hide, but since the sickness itself sapped all of my life force, I

retreated into myself, far away. Isolation was easier than faking.


However when I woke up from a particularly long and dark depression, I realized how very

misguided that dichotomy was, fake happiness or avoid the world. I felt that it was my

responsibility to dispel some of the stigma associated with mental illness. I also wanted to build

myself a support network of friends and family who would understand or at least know what I

was dealing with when my depression cycled back. I am sure many of you also felt an intense

relief and some heart wrenching gratitude when in October of 2013 Elder Holland told us,

speaking of mental illness, that “however bewildering this all may be, these afflictions are some

of the realities of mortal life, and there should be no more shame in acknowledging them than in

acknowledging a battle with high blood pressure or the sudden appearance of a malignant

tumor.”


I am here to bear my testimony of the power of making that acknowledgement. Confessing our

dark secrets, whether they are illnesses, sins, addictions, or even painful thoughts that haunt us,

is, in my experience, the most powerful tool in fighting isolation and beginning healing. When we

isolate ourselves because of guilt, fear, sickness, or anger we keep ourselves from feeling the

love of our friends and our family. More damaging, we close ourselves off from feeling the love

of the Savior, until it seems like we had never felt it before and could never feel it again. If you

are struggling now, if you will not hear anything else that I say today, please hear this : that is

not true! Our Savior’s love is there.


Confessing, confiding, whatever you want to call it. Saying it out loud to someone who cares

about your well being, is very cathartic. If you don’t know where to turn, go to the bishop. He’s

an excellent resource; he can direct you to a therapist, doctor, the Church’s 12 step program, or

even another member who can empathize with your particular situation.


While I was pregnant with Josie, I felt myself slipping away. I could not feel connected to my

baby and I was dreading the prospect of having two children. I didn’t feel like I could talk to

David about this; he trusted me with his kids every day while he was at work and here I was

feeling like I couldn’t cope and couldn’t love them! I was ashamed that my maternal instincts

seemed to be broken. I didn’t even want to pray about it because I was bewildered at how a

Heavenly Father could possibly understand this anguish of a mother. I poured all of this into a

blog post that I then shared with my family and friends via Facebook. I just needed to get all of

that crushing ugliness out of me. I was met with love and support. What was surprising, though,

was the number of my friends who publicly commented or privately messaged me, sharing

similar experiences and thanking me for being willing to talk about it. I realized that honestly

sharing our weaknesses, however scary or shameful they may be, can make us all stronger.

Isolation cannot work if we know we are not alone.


However, it is not easy to share such personal things. That is why it is so important that in our

conversations, in our Sunday School discussions, in our Priesthood and Relief Society

meetings, we infuse all our comments with love and consideration. I read a personal story ​about

a young woman struggling with an addiction to pornography. She described the surge of guilt

and self loathing she felt when her young women's leader said “even though I Know none of you

have this problem, we are going to talk about the dangers of pornography today.” Needless to

say, that was not the day that young woman felt like she had a safe and loving place to confide

in her leaders.


I'm not suggesting we need to be overly PC or feel like we have to walk on eggshells on the off

chance of offending someone. I am suggesting that we strive to be considerate in the things we

share. Our thoughts should be thoughtful.


As I spent the past few weeks trying to sort my thoughts on this topic I realized that at the very

center of this issue of confession was this verse from Matthew chapter 22: “thou shalt love thy

neighbor as thyself.” This short commandment is incredibly powerful.


A few years ago I read it and wept. I remember thinking that never in a million years would I

treat anybody as badly as I treated myself. How could I obey this commandment, the second

great commandment, when I couldn't love myself? What I was unable to see and understand

was my inherent worth as a child of God. My sick mind twisted gospel truths until I couldn't find

comfort in them anymore. Instead of feeling awe and relief from the atonement, I felt more guilt.

After all, if Christ suffered for my sins, felt all my hurts, then being stuck in my depression and

with the subsequent pains, I was just heaping more hurt onto His shoulders. If He felt forsaken

by God, whom he knew and had a perfect, unshaking knowledge of, what hope could there be

for me. What broke this cycle was saying these things out loud. I told my therapist about all

these things that were bothering me. She asked me if a five year old version of myself was in

the room with me, having the same hurts that I have now, would I still think that she was so

unworthy of love. I said no. She said, then stop telling this to yourself now because that little girl

is still in there.


Please, brothers and sisters, don't let these pains fester in isolation. Remember your worth,

think of the child within you. We are loved by our heavenly parents, and we are well worth

fifteen minutes of someone's time. Don't use the bishop's “importance” or busyness as an

excuse to not confess your hard things to him.


Let us also remember the commandment to love our neighbor as we love ourselves when

listening. If a friend or family member or someone you home or visit teach, confides in you, put a

pin in judgement, fear, and even trying to figure out a solution. Just let a Christ like love guide

you. Let them know that you do love them and that they are not alone. If it is a problem bigger

than you, remember to love yourself as well, and get support from the appropriate people. We

are expected to love and take care of each other, but it is not showing how well you love

yourself when you let someone else's problems eat you up. Some resources that I really

recommend if you would like to increase your understanding of student struggles and to

increase your empathy and love, aside from the scriptures, can be found in the library here or

on the gospel library app like Let Virtue Garnish Thy Thoughts, Good Loveth His Children, and

the Addiction Recovery manual. They are written with love and empathy and have a wealth of

information for all of us.


With a better understanding of our divine nature and our infinite worth, we will not allow

ourselves to miserably suffer in isolation, nor will we encourage others to do so, either on

purpose or accidentally.


I'd like to share one more personal story with you from one of my depression days. It was the

beginning of 2010 and I was living with my older sister in Provo. I was unable to go to school

and she was on R and R from working for the state department in Afghanistan where her

husband still was. We had big problems between her PTSD and mine, but we also had each

other. One night I was with her in her bed because my anxiety prevented me from being alone. I

was telling her that I couldn't imagine life any different than it was now and that that prospect

made me too tired; I couldn't face more tomorrows. She looked at me with the frustration of an

impotent loved one and said “Idiots every single day get this kind of thing sorted out. You, little

sister, are better than an idiot.”


So in the spirit of Valentine's day, I bear my testimony of love. Of the unconditional love of our

heavenly parents and our savior. Of the imperfect but earnest love of our families, of the love of

a bishop, of the love and camaraderie of our ward family, of the love we can each have for

ourselves if we nurture it like any relationship. There is love all around us. There is love from all

around for us. To feel it and be freed from isolation, we just need to break our silence. There is

great power and healing in vulnerability. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Prenatal Depression: A Horror Story

My very favorite horror story -Last Days by Adam Nevill - starts the same way many horror stories do, with a whisper. The protagonist is investigating what some claim to be a haunted apartment building. Armed with  a video camera, he goes at night to check things out, because of course. First he hears faint footsteps that could conceivably be just the aches of an old building. So quiet, but so unsettling.

I heard the faint footsteps. In the quiet hours between chores, during a nap, or when the lights were off and everyone was sleeping, there was the whispering, so quiet and inconsistent I could easily name it simply hormones, fatigue, winter, bronchitis. I identified it and went on my way.

Next, our skeptical protagonist, catches the faintest glimpse of that otherworldly horror through the viewfinder of his camera. It is so fast and so unbelievable that, although he had seen it, after only a few moments, he shakes it off, puts it from his mind.

There were days, never two in a row though, that I saw it. Unlike our protagonist, I recognized it; I faced this ghost before. It's sudden appearance would shock me, frighten me, but then it would be gone when I woke up the next morning after a bit of a cry, maybe a cup of coffee, and some time getting the worst of it off my chest to David. The next day would be fine. The whole episode seemed so fast, like it maybe hadn't happened. Hormones, fatigue, winter...

I eventually listened to the ghost. Like the protagonist, sighting by sighting, the mystery became more clear. Not hormones or winter. There was emptiness. A disconnection.

I didn't feel this new baby. I didn't love this new baby.

I shoved this away. It's a repulsive thought and I was indeed repulsed by it. And if I didn't shove it away, what could I do with it? Should I share this emptiness and fear with David, the man who trusts me to take care of his children all day? Could I talk to a therapist who would recommend drugs that make me feel spaced out of my gourd? What about the friends I haven't seen in years? Could I pray to a Heavenly Father who has never carried a baby in His body and, according to scripture, loves His children unconditionally? What could He know of this pain?

My conclusion was that I should just leave it be. A couple days a month seems manageable, especially working off the assumption that everything will fall into place once I meet this baby. Besides, how dare I complain about this baby. So many dear friends of mine have bravely shared their struggle with infertility, miscarriages, and lost babies. I have a baby! I have another growing within my body! What a beautiful blessing! How dare I feel anything but gratitude or love?

But I didn't. I don't. I can't.

I am managing though. I do indeed talk to David.  I continue to pray. I'm not sure if my prayers are understood, but I know that they are heard. I will probably seek out therapy, even if just to have another listening ear.

I am haunted but I am not alone.

We are all haunted. Perhaps it is the sickness of our past or the babies we have never held, but we all have our ghosts. I share mine in an effort to put it to rest. I share to include you in my struggle because I refuse isolation. Isolation is a weapon a depressed mind uses against itself, and I will not be my own enemy. I refuse isolation. I do not compare my horror to my friend's; that isn't fair to either of us. Down that path lies useless guilt and guilt that doesn't inspire improvement is simply poison. I share my confidence in the future. Fear is another weapon that I will not have used against me. I will love this baby. Even if it takes longer than that first embrace, I will.


Our protagonist eventually has to face down an unimaginable evil, fight it, and destroy it. He does it alone. I will not.

Solids for Sammy!

Hanging out in the Tripp Trapp.
He really seemed to like sitting
up higher, more on my level.

For NaNoWriMo, I have uninstalled the Facebook app from my phone. A consequence of this is that I am not posting as many pictures of my adorable son and I know that this makes everyone very, very sad. So here is a photo dump from this week - the week we started solid foods! It's been a lot of fun.

That's a little piece of mango in his pulp.

And it was delicious.

 So we made a big order from our very favorite baby store and got everything we would need. We love our TrippTrapp, the Pulp, and the Dips. The Pulp and the Dips are very easy for Sam to hold and get into his mouth as you can clearly see from the many pictures to follow.

Please enjoy this string of pictures of Sam trying new food. If you scroll quickly it turns into a little movie. 

Obviously, this one is my favorite.

 As ever, please excuse our messy home. Just focus on the adorable baby.

 All in all, Sam seems to really like eating his fruits and veggies!

My Mentally Ill Mishaps : Kitchen Edition

Does your food ever skeeve you out? You are just in the kitchen minding your own business, preparing a meal, when all the sudden your eyes are not seeing the ingredients, but are instead seeing something macabre and terrifying? This could very well be my ugly OCD coming out (yeah, bet you didn't know OCD could manifest by making you obsess over nightmarish things, didcha?) It's a lot like this.

I remember when I was a kid, there was this one time that my dad was fixing hot links. For those uncultured swine out there that don't know about hot links, they have a very strong smell to them while they are cooking. Like hot, greasy, fatty, spicy hot dogs. Only not necessarily good. They are these spicy sausage links. Hot links. It's a thing, I swear. So my dad is cooking hot links and our house smells very meaty. While we are eating at the table, my dad tells this horrific story (that I'm pretty sure is a true story, but I think it might have been just an urban legend. I like to think it is just an urban legend. Anyway.) about these two LDS missionaries who were murdered at a meat processing plant and the only things they ever found were the missionaries name tags. I was unable to eat a hot link for about thirteen years.

Sometimes it's less scary than that. After I worked in the Brookshire's (east Texas grocery chain) deli for six months, I just couldn't work with raw chicken very well. I would do it if I wanted something made with chicken, but once I was done cooking, I suddenly didn't want that chicken dish I just made. I would be able to smell soapy dingy water and burnt grease, just like the deli at closing time. I couldn't shake it until my depression messed with my memory. Or if I eat something new and then I get really sick, I'm forever skeeved out by that food. Chicken sausages. Can't do it. No matter how good the sample may be.

Today, the kitchen creeps struck again. Our local grocery store's butcher counter sells these delicious little monsters called brat burgers. What!? They are amazing. David and I figured that if we bought the brats at Sam's, we could just remove the little sausage casings and then have our own brat burgers for a better price. I pulled one of the casings off a brat, all excited about brat burgers for dinner when my brain switched funny. No longer was I holding a sausage casing, it was a disgusting pork flavored used condom. I nearly ran from the kitchen and hid in my bed. But that's what I would have done when I was sick and, by golly, I'm not sick anymore. I can handle cooking! I can totally unwrap two more brats...It was terrible. I couldn't stop my brain from conjuring up all these ugly, ridiculous images. I fed the cases to the pup because I knew she would find it an awesome treat and what does she care that they are terrifying? She did love them. She ate them right up and then all my brain could think about was my Majzy being a mohel's garbage disposal. I tried to laugh it off, but I couldn't.

I wasn't able to finish preparing our burgers. That will be up to David after he gets home. Has this sort of thing happened to you? I guess it will now that you've read this. Sorry.

This is the kind of thing that I vaguely remember being very ashamed of while I was in the thick of my depression. I think it's important to open up dialogue. While I want there to be less of a stigma for my own sake, in case I fall back down the rabbit hole, I think it can benefit anyone dealing with their own mental illness or neuroses to be more open with and supportive of each other. I don't know.

How do you get your brain back on track in the kitchen?

My Breastfeeding Bust: Failing at Feeding

After Sam's nursing strike (which was the worst. If you think your babe might be striking read up here) my milk never recovered and it wasn't in that great of a place to begin with.

Before we left the hospital after Sam's birth, Sam had lost an entire pound. The doctors weren't worried, or so they said, but they kept talking about it every time they came into our room. It made me a little crazy. We popped open one of the little two ounce formula bottles that they give you to take home and fed it to our little boy. He sucked it down, happy enough, and spit it back up, happy enough. Two ounces was just too much fluid for his tiny tummy. The nurses tried to tell me that everything would be fine; Sam's latch looked good and he was doing a good job nursing, but the damage had been done. I was paranoid.

Once Little Hak was about two weeks old, we had made it through our first growth spurt, my nipples weren't killing me every time he latched and we were rarely supplementing with formula. But Sam's weight was still really slow and we were going to the pediatrician for weight checks and lactation consults. And thus began my dependence on my Medela. I was pumping after I nursed and if I woke up early enough in the morning, I would pump before the boys woke up. I even kept my manual pump handy in the night so that I could pump, quietly, after Sam's midnight meals.

Just as things were really looking up for us, David and I had to rush to the emergency room because I had a crazy pain in my back that made no sense. Blood clots, as it turned out. I was admitted to the hospital and I was there for three days. David would bring Sam to the hospital during the day and I would pump every three hours he wasn't there with me; we cuddled in my bed skin to skin, but there was a definite dip in my output. Once I got discharged and back home, things began to perk up a little, but two weeks later, I was back in the hospital with clots again, bigger and more of 'em. I cried each time I pumped because of how pathetic my pumping output was. By the time I had pumped three times, i had just enough to make a meal for Sam, and at that point he was only eating four ounces at a time.

From then on, we had to supplement every day, three or four ounces. Then the move. Sam went on nursing strike. I was too busy to pump like I needed to, even though I was pumping for four hours every day. I couldn't keep up. After the strike ended the best we did was about half breast milk, half formula, but we didn't do our best very often. And I was trying everything. Oatmeal, brewer's yeast, flax seed, More Milk Plus, Milky, tea, pumping as often as possible, and nursing as much as I could. I couldn't pump more than two ounces at a time even when Sam hadn't nursed and I felt sore.

So here we are, two months later, and I have finally thrown in the towel. Well, I'm trying to throw it in. I tried to pack up my pump yesterday and I was just overwhelmed with sad. I even cried. So I brought it back out and pumped out a measly quarter ounce. I find that I am having a very difficult time letting go of this.

I think it's an identity problem. While I was still pregnant, I was really looking forward to a natural birth, the pain and all. I was excited about it. I felt intrinsically connected to some deep well of womanhood as I prepared for my son's birth. But I had a c-section. I felt a little cheated. More on that later. But as a nursing mother, I found that connection. I was nurturing my child like some kind of bra-less, wild Mother Gaea.  But I haven't been able to do that either. None of this is to say that I am ungrateful for the age we live in with safe surgery and good nutrition for my child despite my body's failings, but it does feel like a failing. It does feel like I'm not woman enough for my Sam.

I don't know. I don't feel shamed by other moms or whatever for choosing formula, but I feel a deep, sad jealousy. Sam holds onto his bottle and eats, happy as can be, and I'm jealous of it. It's like when David was dating other girls, I was devastated, but under that I was just hoping that he would be happy. I felt like that with Sam's bottle. Then I immediately felt like a crazy person.

I guess at the end of the day, I'm glad he's happy and healthy, but still...

Any moms out there who have felt this way? Or am I just a crazy person? Any tips for getting over the breast milk blues, as I will henceforth call this?

Favorite Sammy Stuff for Months 1-3

Now that Sam is past his four month milestone, I can look back and see what things we liked and made our lives tremendously easier. So, for what it's worth, our newborn favorites!

At least he wasn't crying because we pulled a shirt over his head.

• Side Snap Baby Shirts. These come in short sleeve, like in the link, and long sleeve with little mitts on the hands. Onesies are baloney compared to these bad boys. Sam was born at the end of May and it was nice and warm so we would put him in one of these with one of his cloth diaper and he looked so cute. No pulling anything over giant baby heads, making babies cry and squirm. These were the best. Easy and awesome. Must have.
• Kissaluvs fitted diapers.They were great when Sam was smaller for nighttime stuffed with a BumGenius doubler. They contained the mess incredibly well and were very easy for me to manage. He could typically go all night without me having change him during our three o clock mealtime. And when he does poop in them, they are very easy to rinse out. Super plus. Nice to have.
• Soothies. Holy crap. There are the best pacifiers. Some moms think that they are ugly or too big, but they are the best. We took three home from the hospital and bought three more two packs at Target. If you go that route, check out Target.com first. They are normally fifty cents or a dollar cheaper online and Target will match their website prices. Hooray for saving money! Must have.
• Soothe-and-Glow Seahorse. This is a Sam favorite. Full disclosure: ours is pink and purple because we got it second-hand from David's boss. When Sam was having a tough time settling down for a nap, I would turn on his seahorse and he would just look at it until he fell asleep. Worked every time. It was amazing. Nice to have.
• LulyBoo.

  

  Someone is happy about being in his LulyBoo!

  This was amazing. We only got it because we were going to travel just a month after Sam was born and we had a Babies R Us gift card, but it turned out to be wonderful. If Sam fell asleep on my chest while we were watching TV, I could lay him in his little bed right away, right there in the living room and then shower or eat or walk around the apartment all by myself. It gave him a safe place to sleep on our bed when he was being particularly needy but we both needed a nap. And, best of all, it is super washable. Nice to have.
• SwaddlePod and SwaddleMe. We really didn't use the Aden+Anais swaddle blankets everyone loves right at first. I would use one to hide my fair babe from the sun while he was in his sling or as a nursing cover, but we only started swaddling him up with his gauzy blankets when he was nearly three months old. Before that we used the Summer Infant things. They kept Sam nicely snugged up. He could get his hands out of the top of the Pod, but we would just wrap him in a little cotton knit Carter's blanket and he wasn't too hot and was super snuggled up. These are just great, though. And way cheaper than many other similar products. Must have.

  

  Swaddlepod snuggles make sound sleepers.

• Netflix and Mario. So much of my time was sitting on the couch either nursing or pumping or sitting underneath a sleeping baby. So I beat Paper Mario, which Sam loved watching. Bright colors and fun music? Yes, please. David and I watched a ton of House, Mom and I watched two seasons of Supernatural (in, like, three days), I rewatched my various BBC shows like Sherlock, Coupling and the IT Crowd and discovered new fun shows like Wallander, A Young Doctor's Notebook, and Hell on Wheels. Seriously. This might be the most important thing on this list. When Sam was super little and I was feeding him three times during the night and all the time during the day and I was too brain dead to have an actual conversation with David, TV was the best and video games were even better to break up all the television. Must have.
• Comfortable nighttime nursing chair. We had our awesome corner couch (like the middle part of a sectional) in Sam's room. It's super cushy and soft and so comfy. You are going to fall asleep nursing the baby sometimes and you don't want to wake up sore or with weird parts of your body asleep, so a good chair is essential. It was so nice to have a place that was roomy and soft. Must have.
• Freebies, hand me downs, used items. This was David's favorite thing. Free things. Make friends with everyone. Scour CraigsList for cheap clothes, used cloth diapers (if that's your deal), nursery furniture (mind safety, obviously) nursing pillows, anything really. We had several friends who had babies before us who were ready to get rid of some stuff. We got free bottles, diapers, nursing pillows, a bouncy chair, a car seat, a co-sleeper bassinet, pacifiers, clothes (like a metric ton), baby carriers (an Ergo!), changing table, crib, various toys, blankets, you get the idea. We were able to spend money on a few, expensive, high quality items (like our jogging stroller) and we were able to afford it. Nice to have.

  

  Co-sleeper, check. Soothie, check. Seahorse, check.

• Co-sleeper. This was so nice during Hakon's first month. Mommy paranoia is a real thing. I would wake up and panic that Sam had died or something. I could reach over and lightly touch Sam's belly and be reassured that he was alive when he twitched. It was very convenient to reach over and pull Sam into bed to nurse in the middle of the night and then lay him back down without having to get up, especially nice while I was still tremendously sore from the C-section. When we were reading to transition our little guy to his own room, it was easy to set it up as a normal bassinet. Some folks enjoy the crib right away, but, for us, this was a Must have.
• Baby wearing gear. I really wanted to do a lot of carrying my babe because I was terrified of postpartum depression. I know that it isn't a definite solution, but I was doing anything I could think of to prepare a little. I used a ring sling and a Moby the most, but the Beco Gemini and the Ergo Organic are others that we have that I like. This is one department where knowing someone who is getting rid of baby stuff is very helpful. Or knowing  your way  around a sewing machine. 

Extra Life 2014!!!

David and I are ridiculously excited for October 24th. By that time, I will be done with this class that I am in the last panic driven two weeks of (so panicky, in fact, that I'm taking time to write this blog post), we will have a five month old baby (what the what?!), and we will be one week away from our awesome Halloween costume (either Dean, Castiel, and Sam from Supernatural or Thomas, Martha and Batman Wayne). But what we are most excited for is Extra Life 2014!

Sam is excited to play Arkham City

After Sam goes to bed on Friday the 24th David and I will begin a 24 hour gaming marathon to raise money for the University of Iowa Children's Hospital, a Children's Miracle Network hospital. This is the hospital that very likely saved my sweet cousin Mara's life some ten years ago or so and where we will take Sam if, heaven forbid, anything is to happen to him.

Majzy wears a 2T

So far, Sam has been nothing but wonderful; he's happy, adorable, and, most importantly, healthy. True, since his birth, we have had to go to the emergency room four times, but each trip was because of my blood clots and Sam was pleasant the whole time I had to be in the hospital, being especially nice for his Pop during the night shifts. We are so grateful for our little boy and even more grateful that he is healthy. So, in an effort to pay it forward, we are trying to raise one dollar for every day that Sam hasn't been in the hospital- $154. If we could afford to just give it ourselves, we would, but we can't; we need help! Please help support us supporting our hospital.

I really want to get footie jammas for David and me. I think it would be fun and cozy and would make for very fun pictures. However we can't afford that either. If you want to sponsor our jammies, that would also be awesome.

David and I are really excited for this. Taking a day to pretend we are young enough to stay up all night, playing games. We'll be live-tweeting (only on Facebook since neither of us Twitters) our games, fun pictures, the Papa Murphy's pizza we'll be eating, and how tired we are. It will be very fun! We are excited that we will be having a very fun time and hopefully doing some good at the same time.