In swim class, we give the kids a one-two-three count before we do anything like jumping in the pool or going under water. Today, I was jumping A off the "island" in the middle of the pool back into the water. On three, he lit up and splashed his hands and kicked. He knew he was going back into the water and he was happy about it. (And maybe, just maybe, he understood that he needed to paddle his hands and kick?)
He was great at kicking and paddling today. He floats on his back really well; I'm holding him up with three fingers behind his head. I tried to take my fingers away today (gently, tentatively, under the instructor's supervision with big eyes) and his head sunk. So he's not quite ready to solo back float, but he's not crying like the other babies.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Nannies
We live in sunny San Diego here. A and I went to the Zoo with one of our mom friends this morning, and I have to address the nanny issue.
I first noticed this when we went to the La Jolla library. La Jolla is a swanky place, beautiful beaches, lots of money, mansions everywhere. I was hanging out in the library with A and overheard a conversation. Two women were sitting with two kids reading books to them. The kids were maybe three or four(?). I can't tell until A's been that age and then I still can't tell.
Anyway, these two women were hired caretakers, one was an au pair and one was a nanny. They had a lovely cheerful chat about where they spend time with the kids and where the kids live.
So then I started wondering how many other nanny pairs I'm strolling by with A in my stroller. Now that I've started looking, I think it's more than I originally thought in my altruistic, pluralist way. I'm keen on adoption, blended families, biracial blends, and all the other wonderful manifestations of society. But the woman at the zoo pushing a toddler I saw today--they weren't related. No way. And I hate making the judgment because I'm making it on appearance (skin color and disparity of consumer goods). No mom who's pushing a kid dressed in Juicy Couture in a Bugaboo Chameleon would be seen in Walmart sweats with knock-off Keds sneakers.
I know; maybe it's Grandma. Maybe.
Changing after swim class one day, one of my least favorite moms had a wailing infant. Sobbing, yelling, tears. Sound really reverberates off the damn tile in there. If you don't have kids and are wondering if parenting inoculates you to the sound of babies crying, wonder no more: it doesn't. If the parent's working on it, then I feel more empathy since I've been there, done that, but if the parent is blithely letting the child cry, then I'm ready to jump down their throat and say, "Why have the child if you weren't going to help him?"
There's a swim class for older ladies at the same time as our class, so there's an older woman sitting next to me. She says to me, "I hate hearing babies cry," and I nod as agreeably as I can while getting dressed. She goes over and talks to the mom.
This mom is one of my least favorite moms. (Said it once before but it bears repeating.) This older woman tried to coo to the baby to get him to stop and this mom basically said can it, Grandma, he doesn't like strangers. Lady, he doesn't look like he likes you. (I have never seen this child not screaming.) One of the other moms suggested that maybe he was hungry. Oh yes, she says, he is. He's on a new feeding schedule and he has to wait another two hours to eat, plus a new nap schedule so he has to stay awake.
This might make sense, you formula-feeding parents out there are saying. No, he's breastfed, and they eat when they want to. Also, swim class is like my bankable nap of the week. If I had to bet all the money in my pockets to say when during the week A would be taking a nap, I'd tell you right after swim class, after he eats. This new schedule sounds like the road to insanity.
The older woman sits down next to me and tells me again how much she doesn't like to hear babies crying. I agree. She looks over at A, who is his sweet darling observant self, and she says how beautiful he is, how sweet. I thank her.
She tells me she never let her babies cry. I tell her I try not to let mine cry like that. I ask her how many children she has. She explains that she raised five children, all grown now. She wasn't their mother, but she raised them. She did a good job; they are all sweet, smart, and still remember her.
I tell her that's wonderful, but I'm thinking how sad, they still remember you and that's the marker of a good job? She tells me that she has no children now and she wants to have new children to look after, that she likes having nice children to look after.
And I think, oh, have I been conducting a job interview for a nanny without knowing it?
So I try to not-too-obviously state that looking after children is quite a job and I consider myself so lucky to be looking after my own son. And she agrees and leaves.
I don't know why I didn't expect to see that many nannies; I just didn't expect to see them in the locker room. Or the zoo.
I first noticed this when we went to the La Jolla library. La Jolla is a swanky place, beautiful beaches, lots of money, mansions everywhere. I was hanging out in the library with A and overheard a conversation. Two women were sitting with two kids reading books to them. The kids were maybe three or four(?). I can't tell until A's been that age and then I still can't tell.
Anyway, these two women were hired caretakers, one was an au pair and one was a nanny. They had a lovely cheerful chat about where they spend time with the kids and where the kids live.
So then I started wondering how many other nanny pairs I'm strolling by with A in my stroller. Now that I've started looking, I think it's more than I originally thought in my altruistic, pluralist way. I'm keen on adoption, blended families, biracial blends, and all the other wonderful manifestations of society. But the woman at the zoo pushing a toddler I saw today--they weren't related. No way. And I hate making the judgment because I'm making it on appearance (skin color and disparity of consumer goods). No mom who's pushing a kid dressed in Juicy Couture in a Bugaboo Chameleon would be seen in Walmart sweats with knock-off Keds sneakers.
I know; maybe it's Grandma. Maybe.
Changing after swim class one day, one of my least favorite moms had a wailing infant. Sobbing, yelling, tears. Sound really reverberates off the damn tile in there. If you don't have kids and are wondering if parenting inoculates you to the sound of babies crying, wonder no more: it doesn't. If the parent's working on it, then I feel more empathy since I've been there, done that, but if the parent is blithely letting the child cry, then I'm ready to jump down their throat and say, "Why have the child if you weren't going to help him?"
There's a swim class for older ladies at the same time as our class, so there's an older woman sitting next to me. She says to me, "I hate hearing babies cry," and I nod as agreeably as I can while getting dressed. She goes over and talks to the mom.
This mom is one of my least favorite moms. (Said it once before but it bears repeating.) This older woman tried to coo to the baby to get him to stop and this mom basically said can it, Grandma, he doesn't like strangers. Lady, he doesn't look like he likes you. (I have never seen this child not screaming.) One of the other moms suggested that maybe he was hungry. Oh yes, she says, he is. He's on a new feeding schedule and he has to wait another two hours to eat, plus a new nap schedule so he has to stay awake.
This might make sense, you formula-feeding parents out there are saying. No, he's breastfed, and they eat when they want to. Also, swim class is like my bankable nap of the week. If I had to bet all the money in my pockets to say when during the week A would be taking a nap, I'd tell you right after swim class, after he eats. This new schedule sounds like the road to insanity.
The older woman sits down next to me and tells me again how much she doesn't like to hear babies crying. I agree. She looks over at A, who is his sweet darling observant self, and she says how beautiful he is, how sweet. I thank her.
She tells me she never let her babies cry. I tell her I try not to let mine cry like that. I ask her how many children she has. She explains that she raised five children, all grown now. She wasn't their mother, but she raised them. She did a good job; they are all sweet, smart, and still remember her.
I tell her that's wonderful, but I'm thinking how sad, they still remember you and that's the marker of a good job? She tells me that she has no children now and she wants to have new children to look after, that she likes having nice children to look after.
And I think, oh, have I been conducting a job interview for a nanny without knowing it?
So I try to not-too-obviously state that looking after children is quite a job and I consider myself so lucky to be looking after my own son. And she agrees and leaves.
I don't know why I didn't expect to see that many nannies; I just didn't expect to see them in the locker room. Or the zoo.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Post 200
How's our boy doing? Well, he and I just crawled up the stairs together. He laughed uproariously the whole way. We were chasing Jake.
We had our nine-month-checkup yesterday that had been rescheduled twice. He's 20 pounds, 11 ounces and 28 inches long, which makes him average for weight and short. The pediatrician says not to worry about it; he's fine and right on track. He had to have a hemoglobin test (which was fine) and the last of his Hep B vaccine. He didn't cry for either. It was amazing.
He's also now up to three solid food meals a day and starting to eat real people food. We fed him a mushy, cut up banana this morning and he thought we were loony. He looked horrified by the texture. This is what he eats: Sweet potatoes, bananas, pears, apples, carrots, winter squash, and yes, even peas. They're not his favorite but he's becoming reconciled. The doctor says we're okay to introduce other foods that don't have us hopping about allergy fears: wheat-free/corn-free O-cereal, yogurt, cheese, meat, tofu. The wheat and corn we can discuss at the one-year visit; nuts, shellfish, berries, and citrus are off the table until two without further discussion with the doctor.
The nurse goes through a series of questions when we walk in, and one of them was, "Does he respond to his name and 'No'?" Well, yes, he laughs hysterically when we say "No." That is a response. Consistency, consistency, consistency.
Other notes: I had a visit to grown-up land. The surly (and I mean surly) office worker who checked me out told me there was absolutely no appointment first thing in the morning for the month surrounding his birthday for his one-year visit. "Is that okay?"
Well, I'd like something first thing in the morning because then my husband can accompany me.
Don't have anything. Okay. She hands me a card and it's for 8/22, which is three months from yesterday and much closer to his 13 month than 12 month.
"Could I have something closer to his birthday?" I asked.
She hemmed and hawed. "Well, see, it's pretty full, and it is three months from today."
I went out into the hall and pushed the elevator button and thought about how annoyed I was that they had rescheduled this visit twice and how much I would be pissed off if they rescheduled his 12 month for two or three weeks later. So I went back in and said, "Actually, I'm sorry, but I would really like an appointment closer to his birthday." I didn't yell; I didn't scream; I didn't get bitchy. I asked nicely for an appointment and I got one. Now if I'm smart, I'll call ahead to schedule the next visit for first-thing in the morning.
We had our nine-month-checkup yesterday that had been rescheduled twice. He's 20 pounds, 11 ounces and 28 inches long, which makes him average for weight and short. The pediatrician says not to worry about it; he's fine and right on track. He had to have a hemoglobin test (which was fine) and the last of his Hep B vaccine. He didn't cry for either. It was amazing.
He's also now up to three solid food meals a day and starting to eat real people food. We fed him a mushy, cut up banana this morning and he thought we were loony. He looked horrified by the texture. This is what he eats: Sweet potatoes, bananas, pears, apples, carrots, winter squash, and yes, even peas. They're not his favorite but he's becoming reconciled. The doctor says we're okay to introduce other foods that don't have us hopping about allergy fears: wheat-free/corn-free O-cereal, yogurt, cheese, meat, tofu. The wheat and corn we can discuss at the one-year visit; nuts, shellfish, berries, and citrus are off the table until two without further discussion with the doctor.
The nurse goes through a series of questions when we walk in, and one of them was, "Does he respond to his name and 'No'?" Well, yes, he laughs hysterically when we say "No." That is a response. Consistency, consistency, consistency.
Other notes: I had a visit to grown-up land. The surly (and I mean surly) office worker who checked me out told me there was absolutely no appointment first thing in the morning for the month surrounding his birthday for his one-year visit. "Is that okay?"
Well, I'd like something first thing in the morning because then my husband can accompany me.
Don't have anything. Okay. She hands me a card and it's for 8/22, which is three months from yesterday and much closer to his 13 month than 12 month.
"Could I have something closer to his birthday?" I asked.
She hemmed and hawed. "Well, see, it's pretty full, and it is three months from today."
I went out into the hall and pushed the elevator button and thought about how annoyed I was that they had rescheduled this visit twice and how much I would be pissed off if they rescheduled his 12 month for two or three weeks later. So I went back in and said, "Actually, I'm sorry, but I would really like an appointment closer to his birthday." I didn't yell; I didn't scream; I didn't get bitchy. I asked nicely for an appointment and I got one. Now if I'm smart, I'll call ahead to schedule the next visit for first-thing in the morning.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Look at me, whining whining whining
Since this blog is ostensibly about the boychik, I should have blogged about Mother's Day.
Mother's Day here was grand. I didn't sleep in, but C and A went on a grand tour for the morning that included the grocery store, the French bakery, the coffee shop, and the beautiful open-air flower stand up the street. During this time, I took a nap on the couch with both cats. I had an almond croissant and a chai latte for breakfast, followed by a day of hanging out and idly looking at open houses in the OB/Point Loma area (none of which we would buy or consider buying just because they weren't...us), and then we had goat cheese with goat cheese and garlic bread for dinner. It was a fabulous day.
There's a story about two Jews who meet (I think it's a Hasidic story) and ask how it's going. The first one says, "Oh, it's terrible. My kids are sick, my wife is mean, my job is a mess, my life is awful." And God's watching and says, "Awful? I'll show you awful."
So the second one says, "Well, my life is great. Everyone's healthy, everyone's happy, I can't imagine my life more wonderful than it is right now." And God's still watching and says, "Wonderful? I'll show you wonderful."
Mother's Day here was grand. I didn't sleep in, but C and A went on a grand tour for the morning that included the grocery store, the French bakery, the coffee shop, and the beautiful open-air flower stand up the street. During this time, I took a nap on the couch with both cats. I had an almond croissant and a chai latte for breakfast, followed by a day of hanging out and idly looking at open houses in the OB/Point Loma area (none of which we would buy or consider buying just because they weren't...us), and then we had goat cheese with goat cheese and garlic bread for dinner. It was a fabulous day.
There's a story about two Jews who meet (I think it's a Hasidic story) and ask how it's going. The first one says, "Oh, it's terrible. My kids are sick, my wife is mean, my job is a mess, my life is awful." And God's watching and says, "Awful? I'll show you awful."
So the second one says, "Well, my life is great. Everyone's healthy, everyone's happy, I can't imagine my life more wonderful than it is right now." And God's still watching and says, "Wonderful? I'll show you wonderful."
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Drywall not dry
We had a leak in our showerhead joint that caused rain in our downstairs bathroom. The nice (super nice, actually) plumbers came and fixed it yesterday, and today the drywall guy came. But the drywall guy pointed out to me that there was:
- at least one soggy wall, mushy enough to sink my thumb into
- a mildew, moldy smell
- both green and black mold
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Peas and swimming
Well, our food loving ways stopped with peas. Yup, peas. A was game for a couple bites, then tried to scrape off his tongue. So we went back to sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears.
The kid doesn't like green veggies. He is my boy, that's for sure.
We're not force-feeding him, learning from my in-laws who force-fed C when he was a wee thing and then C threw up in his dad's bucket seat.
We went to our new swim class, which only has one other person, an 18-month-old named Rachel. Rachel is (obviously) walking and waving and things like that, but in terms of actual swimming prowess, she's not doing much more than A. She's jumping in the pool, sometimes not when she's supposed to jump in the pool. So I was relieved that A suddenly wasn't going to be in a class where he's completely outpaced by someone 9 months older. He did not have a rockin' time, though; less kids means more submersions and he was unprepared for all the submersions. But he did well.
Oh, and it rained in our downstairs bathroom yesterday. Yes, in the bathroom.
The kid doesn't like green veggies. He is my boy, that's for sure.
We're not force-feeding him, learning from my in-laws who force-fed C when he was a wee thing and then C threw up in his dad's bucket seat.
We went to our new swim class, which only has one other person, an 18-month-old named Rachel. Rachel is (obviously) walking and waving and things like that, but in terms of actual swimming prowess, she's not doing much more than A. She's jumping in the pool, sometimes not when she's supposed to jump in the pool. So I was relieved that A suddenly wasn't going to be in a class where he's completely outpaced by someone 9 months older. He did not have a rockin' time, though; less kids means more submersions and he was unprepared for all the submersions. But he did well.
Oh, and it rained in our downstairs bathroom yesterday. Yes, in the bathroom.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Random playdate
We had a random playdate today, which was good. One of our moms is going to Arkansas this weekend, so we rescheduled for her.
A is eating food now like it's going out of style. He's been averaging a small jar and a half of food per meal, a pretty good leap from nothing but nursing in Italy. I had to do a Whole Foods run this afternoon to get more food. C taught him how to get the hang of eating off a spoon. I don't know how, but he did. So feeding is suddenly a lot less messy.
So far, he's had sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears. The next thing we'll probably introduce: peas. He hasn't disliked anything so far, although he disliked sweet potatoes after bananas. But he seems to really like bananas.
A is eating food now like it's going out of style. He's been averaging a small jar and a half of food per meal, a pretty good leap from nothing but nursing in Italy. I had to do a Whole Foods run this afternoon to get more food. C taught him how to get the hang of eating off a spoon. I don't know how, but he did. So feeding is suddenly a lot less messy.
So far, he's had sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears. The next thing we'll probably introduce: peas. He hasn't disliked anything so far, although he disliked sweet potatoes after bananas. But he seems to really like bananas.
Monday, May 07, 2007
In the category of you knew it was going to happen...
Today's the day A discovered a box of tissues and emptied about half of it before I could turn around and say, "Hey there, sport."
Yesterday was the day we fed A sweet potatoes after bananas and he decided he no longer liked sweet potatoes. He made a Calvin face that would have made Terry very proud (Terry having the best Calvin face I know of, in an pseudo-adult, anyway). That was a rookie mistake of our first meal with mixed foods. Next time, fruit last.
Yesterday was the day we fed A sweet potatoes after bananas and he decided he no longer liked sweet potatoes. He made a Calvin face that would have made Terry very proud (Terry having the best Calvin face I know of, in an pseudo-adult, anyway). That was a rookie mistake of our first meal with mixed foods. Next time, fruit last.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
9 o'clock and all is well
Mostly, anyway. C is trying to rock A back to sleep as part of ongoing efforts to get A to sleep without Mommy. I'm still getting over my ick but I'm improved.
We went baby gate shopping this weekend. The baby superstore is frightening, but they had the best gates, unfortunately. I got winded somewhere on our walk. I hate being sick.
We'll be at loose ends tomorrow since we switched swimming days and now our class is on Fridays instead of Mondays. But I'm still feeling pretty crappy so I don't think that's a bad thing this week.
We went baby gate shopping this weekend. The baby superstore is frightening, but they had the best gates, unfortunately. I got winded somewhere on our walk. I hate being sick.
We'll be at loose ends tomorrow since we switched swimming days and now our class is on Fridays instead of Mondays. But I'm still feeling pretty crappy so I don't think that's a bad thing this week.
Friday, May 04, 2007
My doctor's visit
I'm doing better. I've got bronchitis. I haven't had it long enough yet for my doctor to prescribe antibiotics, and since I'm still breastfeeding my drugs are limited to certain OTCs and an inhaler, just like when I got bronchitis when I was preggo.
Anyway, I got a lot of sleep last night. C did an amazing job of taking care of A quickly when A woke up so that I only had to wake up to feed A. And then I was only half-awake. I think he even took A away quickly after he'd eaten, which doesn't always happen and sometimes we just all drift back to sleep.
A is terribly interested in books today. He has now gone through all the books we keep for him in a basket on the floor and is now trying to fit into the basket.
Anyway, I got a lot of sleep last night. C did an amazing job of taking care of A quickly when A woke up so that I only had to wake up to feed A. And then I was only half-awake. I think he even took A away quickly after he'd eaten, which doesn't always happen and sometimes we just all drift back to sleep.
A is terribly interested in books today. He has now gone through all the books we keep for him in a basket on the floor and is now trying to fit into the basket.
No doctor's visit today
The stupid office people at the pediatrician's drive me nutso.
We didn't get a confirmation call yesterday, so this morning I called to confirm our appointment this morning. Oh, no, the pediatrician's not here today. Did you need an appointment? Well, yes, I had an appointment for this morning.
Oh, no, she's not here. Let me see when I can get you in. This is his nine month check-up?
Yes.
When will he be nine months?
Last week.
Okay. Well, the earliest I can get you in is two weeks from now, since well care appointments need to be made two to three months in advance.
Let me jump through the phone and throttle you. Yes, I know that, woman; that's why I made the appointment at the end of January for today, which apparently was a bad day or became a bad day and nobody bothered to reschedule us. So just make the damn appointment for whenever the hell we can get in because I know we're at the mercy of the all-mighty scheduling book.
This meant that C could go to "work." Today "work" is in quotes because "work" today consists of the first screening of a certain blockbuster movie opening today and a Cinco de Mayo party. Gotta love his job.
We didn't get a confirmation call yesterday, so this morning I called to confirm our appointment this morning. Oh, no, the pediatrician's not here today. Did you need an appointment? Well, yes, I had an appointment for this morning.
Oh, no, she's not here. Let me see when I can get you in. This is his nine month check-up?
Yes.
When will he be nine months?
Last week.
Okay. Well, the earliest I can get you in is two weeks from now, since well care appointments need to be made two to three months in advance.
Let me jump through the phone and throttle you. Yes, I know that, woman; that's why I made the appointment at the end of January for today, which apparently was a bad day or became a bad day and nobody bothered to reschedule us. So just make the damn appointment for whenever the hell we can get in because I know we're at the mercy of the all-mighty scheduling book.
This meant that C could go to "work." Today "work" is in quotes because "work" today consists of the first screening of a certain blockbuster movie opening today and a Cinco de Mayo party. Gotta love his job.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Cranky cranky cranky
I am sick. Nose running like a faucet, coughing like I've been smoking three packs of the Devil's cigarettes, and a headache to boot. When I called the doctor to make an appointment, she said, "My goodness, it sounds like you've got a whistle caught in your throat." But she couldn't get me in until today.
Yesterday C stayed home with me since I was sick. Last night, I couldn't sleep due to a combination of coughing and non-drowsy drugs. I got an hour and a half at one point, broken when A needed to eat.
These are the days when I don't feel like a mom but a teenage vagrant who mysteriously has a baby. I don't want to be the typical fabulous selfless mom who slaps on some lipstick and goes about her daily routine cheerily. I want to climb back into bed with a cat or two and give the baby to anyone willing to keep him quiet for a couple hours. This is, in short, a bad mom day.
Also on an extended note, Master A's started banging his head when he's tired, against my collarbone or C's shoulder. This is a possible sign of autism and has me slightly worried. Thankfully, we have our nine month visit tomorrow and the doctor can reassure me. All the Googling in the universe tells me that it's not uncommon for babies, particularly boys, to develop head banging behaviors in the second half of the first year for self-soothing. God knows this week we've had sleep adjustments up the wazoo with nine hours of time zones.
But still, I'll feel better when I've talked to our pediatrician about it. Growing up with my sister, we had the mantra of "early detection, early intervention," drummed into our brains about any kind of disorder or disability. So if he's got something, I want to know sooner rather than later. This is when I need to go to the grocery store to reassure myself that he's still a sociable little being. Every time we go to the store, people stop me to tell me what a smiley baby I have. "He still seems engaged with people, right?" I ask C, who looks at me like I have three heads. Yes, he says. Look at him smile at you. Look at him laugh. He's okay.
Yesterday C stayed home with me since I was sick. Last night, I couldn't sleep due to a combination of coughing and non-drowsy drugs. I got an hour and a half at one point, broken when A needed to eat.
These are the days when I don't feel like a mom but a teenage vagrant who mysteriously has a baby. I don't want to be the typical fabulous selfless mom who slaps on some lipstick and goes about her daily routine cheerily. I want to climb back into bed with a cat or two and give the baby to anyone willing to keep him quiet for a couple hours. This is, in short, a bad mom day.
Also on an extended note, Master A's started banging his head when he's tired, against my collarbone or C's shoulder. This is a possible sign of autism and has me slightly worried. Thankfully, we have our nine month visit tomorrow and the doctor can reassure me. All the Googling in the universe tells me that it's not uncommon for babies, particularly boys, to develop head banging behaviors in the second half of the first year for self-soothing. God knows this week we've had sleep adjustments up the wazoo with nine hours of time zones.
But still, I'll feel better when I've talked to our pediatrician about it. Growing up with my sister, we had the mantra of "early detection, early intervention," drummed into our brains about any kind of disorder or disability. So if he's got something, I want to know sooner rather than later. This is when I need to go to the grocery store to reassure myself that he's still a sociable little being. Every time we go to the store, people stop me to tell me what a smiley baby I have. "He still seems engaged with people, right?" I ask C, who looks at me like I have three heads. Yes, he says. Look at him smile at you. Look at him laugh. He's okay.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Jet lag
Jet lag is just no fun for anyone. We'd been moving to increasingly later bedtimes until C came home last night and found A and I asleep on the couch together. He put A to bed and when I woke up, I went to bed too. Then we all got up at 3 or 4 this morning and drove aimlessly trying to put the boy to sleep.
So we're tired. But I found quizzes.
So we're tired. But I found quizzes.
| Your Birthdate |
 You're a dynamic, charismatic person who's possibly headed for fame. You tend to charm strangers easily. And you usually can get what you want from them. Verbally talented, you tend to persuade people with your speaking and writing. You are affectionate and loving, but it's hard for you to commit to any one relationship. Your strength: Your charm Your weakness: Your extreme manipulation tactics Your power color: Indigo Your power symbol: Four leaf clover Your power month: December |
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