Month: February 2016

The Return

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 1 Comment

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When you walk into the house after a week away you expect to feel that your husband is delighted if not intoxicated upon your return. Instead, it felt guarded and a little cold with a hint of resignation thrown in for good measure. Not what I expected at all.

Yes, Paul attacked him that morning. Yes, the grand babies are crying. Yes, things are stressful at work. I get it. I feel weary too at times. Actually, often. Sometimes it is hard not to in this household.

Tonight after being reunited, as I lay in B’s arms, I asked “Do you ever think we will get back to where you really love me. Like it used to be?”

Might as well be putting a gun in my hand and pressing it up to his head.

Why do I even ask these types of things?

I guess I want reassurance that he can, that we can, get to a place of love that once felt as wide as the Grand Canyon but now feels somewhat like a sink hole.

But I don’t get the answer  or the reassurance I am looking for. I get a question turned around on me?

“Do you think we can?” he asks, which tells me he is feeling this disconnect too. Which saddens me and makes me feel even more insecure.

Why do I have to always ask the hard questions? But even as I ask the question I know the answer…I don’t want to have to continue to try to guess. To try and read the mind of a man who doesn’t even know how he feels much less knows how to try and share it. I ask these questions as a gauge as to how our relationship is in his mind. But the thing is…I am not even sure I want to know. Sometimes I think I would like to just keep floating down the RIVER deNILE. FOREVER.

 

Being A Mom Sucks Part 3 But Sometimes Autism Sucks Worse

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 1 Comment

I am in the airport finally going home with the tween daughter of the last few posts. I am excited to see everyone when I get a text from B.

Paul attacked me. He charged me and to protect myself I had to take him down to the floor and hold him there.

My adult daughter, Nicole, who is at our house witnessed this and I get a text from her as well.

I was scared for dad. Dad handled it so well but I was really scared.

I hold my breath and die just a little bit more inside.

Several days before I left for Chicago there was another altercation with Paul involving me. He hurt me in a rage while he was trying to get something that I had taken from him.

Paul has always lived on the edge of rage. Since we have known him and brought him home at 10 months old. His first act upon arriving at our home was to toddle over to his brother and throw him to the floor. It has been some version of this ever since. While they are great friends Andre always knows there is a chance that Paul will get upset and lives accordingly. We all do. It is exhausting at times.

At the age of 11 after much grief and debate, we finally broke down and started using meds to help moderate his ever shifting moods.We have a great med doc who listens with compassion and always tries to use the least amount possible in order to achieve stability. That said, we still have periods of paranoid thinking and depression which has worsened as he hit puberty. Sometimes I want to take him off all meds and other times when I think of doing that I am scared about how bad things might become. Worse. Intolerable. Maybe even dangerous.

And now this. Increasing violence to himself and against us. Not horrible…yet…but where do you draw the line? When you love someone, as we love him, it seems the line keeps getting stretched further out. Further out than you would allow for any other person you come into contact with. There is no aggression toward anyone else except those within our family. Yet I worry that if he was ever involved in some sort of police incident he would be killed because he would run or maybe struggle with an officer and we all know what happens to minorities who do so.

My heart feels like it has been shattered in pieces so many times this past year and I wonder if I can find all the pieces to put it together once again. My mother heart, my marriage heart, my lover heart and my friend heart.

I ache to be and feel whole once again.

Being A Mother Sucks…Part 2

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 7 Comments

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She didn’t like the art museum. Okay, I kind of “get” that seeing pictures of old men with shrunken penises and heads being lopped off may not be your cup of tea but what about the woolly sheep standing in a brilliant green field or the pretty cuddly kitten chasing after a butterfly. Surely out of the thousands of paintings on display you could find ONE you liked. Just ONE. NOPE.

She didn’t like our dinner. She ordered pizza…what’s not to like? It’s a dish she requests time and time again but today it was as if the waiter brought her a plate of liver and onions.

She didn’t eat much of the blueberry pancakes she ordered. What the heck…we have blueberry pancakes all the time! But with hotel prices at $12 a plate for blueberries and batter she couldn’t stand them. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

She didn’t like the Field Museum…one of the greatest museums in the world. You mean to tell me Ancient China isn’t amazing? NO. Or the gemstones the size of small hills? NO. How about SUE the most complete T-Rex in the world? NO. Really? You didn’t like her either? BORING.IMG_4388

Maybe the Ancient Egyptians with their mummies…thank you… NO!IMG_4429

Or maybe the animals mounted and stuffed in all their glory? GROSS. There was nothing in the entire building that caught her fancy.

Okay, BOLD MOVES by the Joffrey Ballet. This one I was a little worried about. I have really never loved ballet but figure I am giving her some “culture” and if nothing else ideas for her routine. images-6 Of course, she developed a nosebleed in the first part of the performance but I’d be damned if we were leaving. Here is a kleenex. Stuff it up your nose. And so we sat through the three performances and I wept like a crazy old cat lady during the final one. Never have I seen something so beautiful and moving in my entire life. Never could I relate so well. Today I learned to LOVE ballet…my  tween daughter…not so much.

As a mom sometimes it feels like nothing you do is right.EVER. But then you finally catch on and realize it isn’t about you at all. It’s the hormones and your daughter is turning into a bitchy, selfish soon-to-be menstruating maniac and you remember back to a days when your mother could do nothing right. You didn’t like the dress she bought for you…it was too old fashioned just like her. You didn’t do the dishes and she did them for you because it was easier than dealing with the likes of you. You wouldn’t eat her pot roast and sulked like a two-year-old because there was only vanilla ice cream and not chocolate. You refused to SING ALONG WITH MITCH and instead turned up the volume on Led Zeppelin. And that is when it really hits you…horror of horrors… you realize that she has returned as you when you were a horrid cruel totally-into-yourself-snotty-14 year-old. Suddenly you have become your mom… old, boring and certainly not cool. Then, like the principle dancer who hastened her demise and threw herself upon a sword, you briefly consider doing the same, just so you can experience a quick and easy death rather than deal with a reincarnation of a teenage you in the house. That’s when you fall to your knees and wish for just one more hour with your mother so you could apologize, beg her forgiveness and tell her how great a mom she was and that you remember how hard she tried to create moments so special that you would remember them for the rest of your life but not appreciate them until your own daughter’s hormones went awry. And then you cry yet again because suddenly teenagehood is upon you and YOU aren’t ready to give up that sweet little girl that once hung on your every word, freely cuddled with you and loved you back without restraint. Yep, the teen years are upon us…God help us all!

Sometimes Being A Mom Sucks Big Time

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 3 Comments

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So today was Gracie’s big meet. For a 11 year-old who has only been in the sport 2.5 years she does remarkably well. She works hard. She practices 20 hours a week. She watches videos of all her favorite Olympic divers and she reads books on the subject. She is the hardest working kid I know but sometimes that just isn’t enough.

Today’s meet was the largest held in the world with 29 states and 5 countries represented. She woke up and ate breakfast. When we arrived at the venue Gracie started crying.Hard. Fast and furious. This is a kid who never cries and goes into a meet exuding confidence. Always. But here she was crying and all the parents on the team were looking at her with big ??? on their faces because they had never seen her like this. She was a mess.

“I feel sick. My stomach hurts.”

“I think that maybe you are just a little nervous. Give it sometime and you’ll be fine.”

“No. I am really sick. I am going to puke.”

“You weren’t sick 10 minutes ago. Are you sure you aren’t just nervous?”

“NOOO I am sick,” she wails.

One of her teammates walks over to her and tells her a story of how sometimes she gets butterflies before competing.

“It’s not that. I am sick,” her body being wracked by sobs.

Back over to me she comes.

“I can’t do this. My stomach hurts.”

“Okay, well here is the thing. I think you are nervous and I am afraid that if I tell you that you don’t have to compete the next time you have a competition you will be paralyzed by fear and you won’t be able to compete then either. So I just want you to go out there and do what you came to do. I don’t care if you finish last. It doesn’t matter to me. Just go out there and try to have fun.”

Bigger tears. Sniffles. Lots. More tears. Huge tears. Rapid tears.

What is a mother to do? Where is the manual on the best way to handle drama?

Coach and team take her over to the staging area. Five minutes later she’s back.

“I can’t feel my hands.”

I’ve always had a fear of drowning and at this point I swear I am beginning to feel water rising to ankle level due to the hurricane of tears.

“Listen if your hands are numb then I have to take you to the hospital.”

“Nooo!”

She sulks back to her team. Obviously this is getting me nowhere fast. Time to switch tactics.

Three minutes later she’s back.

“I’m dizzy!”

“Okay. So go scratch. Go tell your coach that your cannot compete.”

“NOOOOOOOO! I can’t let my team down like that!”

What is a mother to do? What can I say to this tween that will make a difference?

“It is not a matter of letting your team down. It’s a matter of letting yourself down and how you will feel if you don’t compete. What matters is you. I don’t care what you do and in 10 years you won’t even remember your scores. You have decide for yourself if you would feel worse competing or not competing. It is all up to you.Only you can make that decision and I am not going to make it for you.”

“Mom, I just can’t,” she squeaks… gasp, gulp and even more tears.

“Seems to me you have two options. Either you scratch or you suck it up, buttercup, and get out there and do your best in a situation that is not ideal. I will love you either way.”

So she competes and earns two 4th place finishes and one tie for 3rd. Not bad at all for all the tears. For all the “sickness.” For all the doubts. For all the fears.

Later as she stood on the podium collecting her medals she was relaxed. Happy. Calm. And as those medals clanged softly against her chest I realized that the medals I cherish most from this meet are not the ones that hang around her neck but the one that now rests within her head. It’s the one that will remind her that she CAN do what she sets out to do even if she has to work through her fears to grasp it in her hand. To me, that last medal is worth more than gold. I hope she will think so too someday and will treasure the memory of how she overcame all the crap going on in her own head to earn it.

 

 

 

 

Believe

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / Leave a comment

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Today is Gracie’s big diving competition. As a mom, I hate when she struggles. As a parent, I realize struggle is a part of it all but nonetheless one only wishes it all would come easily. It doesn’t.

Last night she cried and I just held her. “Hey, if it is this stressful we don’t have to do it. It doesn’t matter to me how you do, I will love you no matter what. Just cry baby, I am here for you.”

Said all the right words that meant nothing to her at the moment. This morning I sense doubt which I would love to just erase.

You can do this, baby. You have what it takes. You have worked so hard. Believe in yourself. Believe in your talent and hard work. Believe that your body has done this so many times it is almost built into your DNA. Believe that in 30 years it won’t matter and you will not remember your scores. Believe this is fun. Believe that your biggest fan is me and that YOU are what matters to me. And believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.Believe. Just believe.

Welcome To The World M

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Today…February 9, 2016 my niece will be born into this glorious world. She comes into it the same way our daughter Nicole did 25 years ago…via IVF. Things have changed so much in the past 25 years but the wishes that we have for a beautiful new life remain the same. These are the things that I wish for you my dear M:

  1. That you will know more happiness than pain and that you soon realize that happiness can usually be found all around you if you will just seek it out.
  2. That you will be brave and stand up for the things that are important because it is the right thing to do.
  3. That you will know the kind of love that is deep, eternal and true. And that you walk away from anyone who tries to give you less.
  4. That you know the gift of friendship and treasure the people you let into your life as long as they treasure you back.
  5. That you marvel at something that you have seen or experienced everyday so you remember to appreciate all that you have.
  6. That you will not be afraid to take risks when those risks allow you to follow your dreams.
  7. That you remember that it is okay to disagree and it doesn’t make you a “bad” person.
  8. That the gifts of patience, joy, loyalty are bountiful in your life.
  9. That you find what makes you laugh and then do a lot of it.
  10. That you remember to skip at least once a day.
  11. That you view your mistakes as opportunities for further growth and realize that they are not the end of the world.
  12. That you understand that perfection is just an arbitrary word.
  13. That you believe you have family who know you, understand you and accept you for who you are and you turn to them when needed.
  14. That you possess the wisdom to know what you don’t know but that you have the ability to find out what you need to know when you need to know it.
  15. That you experience confidence in all areas of your life.
  16. That you have the understanding that whatever has happened in the past is over and that each day brings new opportunities if you choose to seek them out.
  17. That you have the courage to look at yourself as you really are.
  18. That Peace On Earth becomes more than just a holiday slogan.
  19. That you learn to trust in yourself and others…but mostly yourself.
  20. That your spirit is awakened and that you know that you do not walk alone in this world.

 

THE REST OF THE STORY

My BIL and SIL were lucky to finally find each other late in their lives. They married four years ago and wanted nothing more than to make babies. Unfortunately, they were unable to do so. Last year they found out about two children who needed a home and they inquired about adopting them but the state said that they were trying for parental reunification and because of this and the fact that they were out of state it would not be possible for them to adopt these children.

Last March my BIL & SIL heard about an IVF program that offered six tries and if you did not get pregnant your money was refunded; so they decided that they would try. The procedure was done in May 2015 and they were due to find out if they were pregnant June 1. May 29th the state called and asked if they would be willing to adopt the two children who were now three and two. They said absolutely. June first they found out they were pregnant. In November the two girls came to live with them and now we wait for the birth of M.

To say their lives have changed is an understatement. They are 50 and 49 as they just begin their journey into parenthood with three children all under the age of four. Where most of us are taking the kids to college they are changing diapers and visiting pre-schools. It’s a good reminder that sometimes we just don’t know in which direction our lives will take us and often we will experience many surprises along the way. So to all those people out there who are waiting for a child to love never give up hope for you never know just how your story will turn out. Maybe you will conceive, maybe you will adopt, or maybe you will create a family that is unique and just right for you. As a mom who had been told she would never be able to have a child, and who now has six; you just never know what the journey will look like when you are just starting out because life just throws you little surprises all along the way.

Happy Birthday, M! I can hardly wait to meet you and find out who you are!images-2

Cheating A Little…Adoption

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 2 Comments

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So today I am cheating a little by putting up something I wrote several years ago. Why am I cheating? Well, I am getting ready to leave for Chicago tomorrow because Gracie has a big diving meet there later in the week. So I am super busy getting everything done that needs to be before I go which means I am too busy to write something. Thought I would leave you with something to think about.

 

If you are an adoptive parent especially one who is parenting a child of a different race then you know how many times you are broadsided by some stranger coming up to you with the expectation that they are allowed to ask any one of a million stupid questions right in front of your kids. It never ceases to amaze me the words that come out of a complete strangers mouth. Lately, I have not had to deal with this quite as often as in my children’s younger days so imagine my surprise when in the course of 24 hours I had the following exchanges with some people I have never been formally introduced to and will most likely never meet again.

I have to admit that I was a little evil with the woman at the Mini Mart but gosh darn it I had just been in a video arcade with a bunch of screaming kids for two hours. That is my excuse for my encouraging ignorance rather than making the time to educate.

So yesterday the kids and I go into a Mini Mart and first thing out of the cashiers mouth as she looks at Gracie is… ” ahhhh she is so cute…”

(Okay, I can feel it coming on. Let me see if I can read your mind and finish the sentence for you sweetie)

“Are they your kids?”

(I knew it. If I only had a nickel. I always know when we start out with a she is so cute it will be followed by nosey questions. But today I was prepared)

“Yep they are all mine.”

Funny look crosses her face.

“They don’t look anything like you.”

“Yeah I know.”

“I think they look Asian”

“Well, my ancestors are English and German”

“Their dad must be Asian then”

“Nope. Here is his picture. ( I pull out my husband’s picture) See, He is German too. Oh, and here is a picture of my oldest daughter.” (Who is as pale skinned as they come)

She stares at it, looks down at the kids and back at me. Confusion is written all over her face.

“Yep, the doctors don’t understand it either. They think it has something to do with drinking too much of the water when we went to Asia. Bye now.”

Yep, I know, a little devious and mean of me but after the 100th or so conversation that goes this way sometimes you just crack. That is my excuse for my very rude behavior.

 

And then this afternoon it happened again.

I was in the Super WalMart. Up walks this 50ish man.

(Oh crap… here is comes I think to myself trying to turn my body away but can’t get turned fast enough.)

“I know you get this all the time”……

(“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Don’t you F’ing say whatever is about to come out of your mouth,” I am thinking to myself)

“…but are your kids adopted?”

(Hmmmm should I go with the I just broke my ankle tactic to try to get out of here?)

“Are they from the orient?”

(Oh God…not one of these I just can’t take it today!)

“They were born in South Korea”

“Is that the communist country?”

“No, that would be North Korea”

“The reason I ask is because I have adopted eight of my own”

(Okay, maybe I can put my guard down a little because as an adoptive parent surely they must “get it”.)

“We got them in all colors. We have two of our own and then we got a Mexican one, and a black one and this one here (pointing to a I would guess 16 yo) well we don’t know what she is”

(Oh God help me and get me away from this idiot and let me find the social worker who approved this moron and get her license taken away)

“And one we have now is 3 and her Mom is in prison and the man she named as the father well his DNA didn’t match so I think we are going to get her thank god.She doesn’t need to have a loser mother like that.”

(Nor a loser adoptive dad like you who tells her entire life story to strangers while she is listening and wilting inside. This poor kid will need lifetime therapy thanks to Daddy O here. UGH)

“Sounds like you have a lovely family. We have to keep shopping. It’s nice meeting you.”

And just when I thought I was done I ran into him two more times and each time he starts a conversation and once his daughter looks at me as I pass and says

“Do they all have the same mother?”

“Why, yes they do. It’s me!”

 

It is after these conversations and situations that I feel for my children and all adoptive children everywhere. Intrusiveness is what they know. Being on display through no fault of their own is how they live. Being questioned by strangers and not wanting to seem rude is the norm for them. Having their own personal stories questioned with strangers trying to take them out and put them on display to feed their own curiosity is hurtful, annoying and separates them from “everyone else.”

When we first adopted it was difficult to know how to respond. Just how far do you go to keep your child’s story personal and theirs alone until they decide what, if any, parts they want to share. Now I just respond with, “Why do you want to know?” Usually that makes people think but not always. Sometimes no matter what you do you cannot shut these amateur sleuths up and you just have to be rude and turn away for the sake of your family’s mental health.

So the next time you see an adoptive family like mine please, no questions. Just smile and say, “You have a beautiful family.” I guarantee I will know what you mean. Then, if the timing is right, I will be glad to stop and talk to you about joys and sorrows that are involved in adoption. And I will share because my life has been enriched by adoption … but I will no longer allow your curiosity to intrude on our lives unless it is on our terms.images.Please forgive me for my “rudeness” as I will forgive you for your “nosiness.”  Amen.

 

 

 

Music Awards Suck

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 1 Comment

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Recently, I did something which, frankly, I have never done…I watched about an hour of the AMA awards on television. I really don’t watch this sort of stuff because who wants to watch a bunch of drugged out freaky people give themselves awards when, frankly, they already have wayyyy too much time and energy given to them for mostly mediocrity. And watching really just confirmed my view that for the most part those “entertainers” were nothing but a bunch of sold out, sold up folks who are made in the image that the music industry tells us the public wants whether it is the truth or not.

I can honestly say that after watching these folks they are not what I want to watch, emulate or have my children aspire to. Most of them sing angry sounding songs that promote ugliness, hate and bad behavior. What is up with that? Don’t people have enough of that in their lives? I mean really who wants to be brought down any lower? I just don’t get it. Why emphasize the negative when these so called “role models” could be promoting the positive. I mean these singers have all the reason in the world to be singing the praises of love, helping others and adoration because that is the life they are living. So unless they are going to help our kids, encourage them and build their confidence I would really rather that they just go home and stop wasting everyone’s time and money. If this is truly what the public wants then we are doomed.

Being Mind F***** By Your Kid

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 2 Comments

 

This happened about five years ago but it still amazes me that I am no closer to solving the problem of not getting mind F***** by my son with autism.

So today I was called to school because Andre was acting up and out. He kept calling out for his stuffed dog, Snuggles. OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. Even kicked his aide which has never happened before…lovely!

So I went to school armed with cleaning products (natural of course) and a trash bag for picking up leaves to add to my compost pit as a punishment. Seems this all started because:

A) I caught Andre trying to take his dinosaur book to school and removed it from his backpack

B) seems I forgot to give him his medicine.

Score two points for the Loser Mom of the Year award. So Andre is cleaning the tables in the cafeteria and it turns out he is having a great old time and would much rather be doing that than to be in class. Project Clean The School backfired on me. Hmmmmmm, my brain is on fire as I try to think about how to stay one step ahead of him.

Today when he gets home, he is still out of sorts and totally misbehaving. Finally, I told him that since he could only talk about Snuggles that I would be taking said stuffed dog and keeping him with me and that if he did a good job at school tomorrow he could have him back; which I might add he went with quite readily which surprised me.

About an hour later his ABA tutor, Amy, is asking him to write down three things he could have done differently at school regarding the SNUGGLES EPISODE. He tells her “Who is Snuggles?” and just starts screwing with her.

“I don’t know a Snuggles?”

“Who is Snuggles again?”

“I don’t know any Snuggles, do you?”

I mistakenly decide to call  his bluff and up the ante. So the next time he says he doesn’t know who Snuggles is I say, “Well, since you don’t know him I guess it won’t matter to you if I take him out to the fire pit and burn him up” to which Andre replies “I”ll get the marshmallows!!!!!!!!!!!!” Amy and I look at him dumbfounded. What this is his best friend since he was three years-old and he wants to roast him right along with the somores? I just don’t get it!

So I try again impressing upon the fact that Snuggles is going to be a heap of ashes when he is done in the fire pit and Andre’s response is still, “Bring on the marshmallows!”.

Now I am caught between a rock and a hard place and I have put my own self there!!!!!!!!! UGHHHHHHHHHHH! How can I do this to myself????? When will I ever learn????????????

For now I have no choice but to march Snuggles out to a fiery demise. So up the stairs I climb like a soldier leading a prisoner to the guillotine. And as I hold the doomed dog in my hands looking at Amy with a ‘please help me get out of this mess’ kind of look; down the stairs comes Paul with tears in his eyes.

“You can’t burn Snuggles up, you just can’t” and the floodgates let loose. “Andre loves Snuggles and Snuggles has been a loyal friend.”…AND… I’LL TAKE THAT…saved by an eight year old.

“You are right Paul and since Andre doesn’t care about Snuggles anymore and you have spared his life he is now yours.” (Thank you Paul. Bless your kind compassionate soul 1000 times over)

 

To which Andre says “Shucks no marshmallows!”

This means, of course, that I will not sleep all night as I try to figure this whole situation  out because it is now painfully obvious I am being mind f***** by a nine year old and I don’t know what to do about it.

To My Child’s Teacher-The Hurt In Family Tree Assignments

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 1 Comment

To My Child’s Teacher:

I wanted to make you aware of something you may not have considered in regards to these “Where I Came From/Family Tree” type of assignments. My daughter does not have a birth picture as most international adoptees do not. This can be very painful to some adoptees when class assignments such as this come around. My daughter was born in Korea where children are adopted in a very legal and orderly manner with children being placed with agencies after birth. Yet, part of her past is missing. And some kids from China are left in public places as it is against the law for parents to abandon a child and in that culture the gender of choice is male. Therefore, often girls are abandoned. In addition, due to the one child policy; abandonment happens to females in high numbers. These children often struggle with the fact that they were “left” somewhere.

In addition, having to include a story of their birth is very difficult because many children who are adopted have no clue about the story of their birth. They can’t say things like my mother ate pickles during pregnancy and cried and cried when I was born. They have no idea of the circumstances of their birth except that in many countires it is one of disgrace and shame. Instead of their birth being a happy time many adoptees feel that it is a time of sorrow where they lost their identity and their heritage.

My daughter cannot answer the questions of the hospital where she was born and who came to see her and how her mother felt. We can answer those questions from when we first saw her picture at three months and when she came home at almost 8 months but this seperates her out from the other kids. In addition, we only encourage her to share what she knows of her birth story with people she wants to and frankly it is not appropriate for just anyone to know nor it is not everyone’s business to know the circumstances of her birth.

These kinds of assignments can be hurtful to adoptees or children who come from “different” families other than a two parent mom and dad type of family. Many kids now come from gay families and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many kids now come from single mother with unknown fathers and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many children come from foster families and had abusive first parents who may have told them over and over things like, “I wish you had not been born.” Many times the birth of a child is not a “happy” time in a family and a child may know that. While the jist of these assignments are made with the noblest of intentions, in reality, these types of assignments are often uncomfortable and hurtful for children not just because they single them out but because their past is full of loss and pain.

Just wanted you to consider this from another point of view.