she is mopping the floor with us

I would like to reiterate that the only primary reason Charlie and I (and Margaret) are planning to run participate in the Rock N' Roll marathon at the end of next month is to raise money for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

I would also like to reiterate that since the beginning of February, the three of us have raised almost $11,000.00 for cancer research. (Not included in the totals summarized on our respective web pages, are several checks that we've received which have not yet hit our accounts.)

I would also (also) like to reiterate that there is a contest underway at this very moment where for a $5.00 donation to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, you will be entered to win a brand new children's table - and two chairs - from Pottery Barn Kids.

My husband has a vertical elevation of over six feet. Yet even he enjoys sitting and playing with our kids at their children's table.

The point I'm trying to make is that even if you don't have children and you are over six feet tall, you could still sit at this table.

(Provided you don't want to cross your legs.)

(And you don't mind feeling stiff.)


Let's do a quick recap.

Charlie and I, along with my cousin Margaret, are scheduled to run a marathon in 43 days to benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and to honor our friend, Deana.

In forty three days.

We must complete twenty six point two miles by foot.

Within seven hours.

There is currently a contest underway where for a $5.00, 100% tax deductible donation to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, you will be entered to win your choice of a children's table and two chairs from The Pottery Barn Kids.

You can donate either here or here.

More than 12 million people worldwide are diagnosed with cancer and eight million will die from the disease each year.

But in the past decade, several important new drugs and new uses for existing drugs have greatly improved cure rates or remission duration for many patients.

Donations fuel the research that will eventually, cure this disease.

Across the three of us, we have raised almost $11,000.00 since the beginning of February for cancer research.

However, the cumulative total of our donations still trail my cousin Margaret's donations by over $700.00.

Margaret has more than $700.00 in donations than the two of us (me AND Charlie).

Combined.

The table & chair contest ends tomorrow, April 19th at midnight.

So please tell everyone in your neighborhood - at church - and in the grocery store.

You could send this link to everyone in your address book. Why, you could even pick up your phone and punch in a bunch of random numbers and then tell whomever answers the other end to drop by for a chance to win an awesome table in exchange for a very small donation to a hugely worthwhile cause.

A hugely worthwhile cause that might actually save their life, or the life of someone they love, one day.

But no pressure.

That's just how I'm planning to spend the rest of spent my afternoon.

(Did anyone notice my husband's artistry with Play Doh? I never imagined I would marry someone that was so creative. And up until the time I started fundraising for cancer research, I never imagined that I would so shamelessly ask people for money.)

some might think I'm overprotective

We have a set of boy-girl twins that live in our neighborhood that are 10-years-old.

One day last week, when I took the children out for a walk, I noticed that the girl twin had joined forces with one of the other neighborhood girls and they had set up a lemonade stand in their front yard. It was such a sweet thing to see, these two young girls out selling lemonade and cookies in their driveway.

As we continued on our walk, sipping cups of powdered lemonade, I noticed that out of the corner of my eye, there were several kids running between trees and hiding behind cars. I stopped for a moment to see if I recognized anyone and that's when six boys, including the twin brother of the girl selling lemonade, rolled out from beneath a parked car wielding plastic toy shotguns which were pointed directly at us.

One of the kids was yelling, "Go left! Go left! I spot the enemy!!" and the other boys ran around, tripping all over themselves when I yelled back, "Enemy?! Are you kidding me?! I give out the BEST Halloween candy in the entire neighborhood!! Lower your weapons soldier or there will be no candy for you. I NEVER FORGET A FACE!!"

My girls were too distracted pushing their baby carriages and trying not to spill lemonade to notice the ruckus that was going on in the nearby yard. But my four-year-old son was watching the whole scene unfold with his mouth wide open. He looked up at me with eyes the size of saucers and said, "Mommy. WOW. That is so cool! What are those things those boys are playing with? I WANT ONE!"

And well. Here's the thing.

My kids have absolutely no idea what guns are.

And the fact is, I don't want them to know what guns are. I've been so careful about protecting my children from weaponry and the harm that they may cause, that I have actually gone so far as to swap out words in the famous story, "The Cat In The Hat Comes Back."

The little cats that reside in The Big Cat's Hat who are tasked with cleaning up pink snow may be clever, but they don't use guns and they don't kill snow spots. As far as our children are concerned, little cats A, B, C, D, E, F and G have good poppers and they POP all those spots.

So when my son saw a toy gun up close and personal for the first time and wanted to know what it was, I sweetly explained that they are called "Rainbow Lasers" and no, he can't have one.

And while we're at it, he can't ride a motorcycle or smoke cigarettes.

Ever.

The incident was still fresh in my mind when Charlie and I took the children swimming this afternoon. When we arrived at the pool we were blissfully, the only ones there. But soon a young woman and a young boy appeared. I assumed that the woman was the boy's mother, but when she sat down and opened a book and didn't take a second look at the child, I figured she must have been a baby sitter.

The boy's name was Christopher. He was seven-years-old and very rambunctious. He will be starting third grade in 38 days. Although he was three years older than our triplets, he wanted nothing more than to play with them in the pool. And well, OK. Because socialization with older children is probably good.

(Or so they say.)

And what could I do to stop it?

Tell the kid to bug off?

One of the toys that our children had brought to the pool was a plastic shark. Christopher was playing with the shark when he looks to me and says, "You know. This shark looks just like Jaws." Then he turns to my preschoolers and says, "Jaws is a shark in a movie and he likes to swim around and eat people. He bites off their arms and legs and then he KILLS THEM and there is blood everywhere!"

Then while I stood there wondering, "How awkward would it be to just throw my hands over my kids ears and drag everyone to the jacuzzi?" Christopher takes the shark and starts smashing it against the wall of the pool.

"DIE SHARK!! DIE!!"

I looked over to his oblivious guardian for some kind of interception while stuttering, "Whoa Christopher, easy on the shark. You might break it."

He stops his smashing and says, "I like the movie Jaws. I also like the movie with the guy who cuts off people's arms and legs with a chainsaw." My husband who had been walking around the shallow end with Henry, heard the conversation and incredulously asked, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? YOU have seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?! How old are you again?"

Christopher exasperatedly replied, "I'm SEVEN. I start third grade in THIRTY EIGHT DAYS." And then he continued, "I really like the movie with Freddy Krueger and then there's this other one with a guy named Jason. They like to KILL people. I love BLOOD."

My children were enthralled with this big boy, but I felt like I had just been dipped in gravy and tossed in to the lion's den. The kids started to jabber on about watching the movies he was referencing when I suddenly realized I wasn't sleeping and this wasn't a dream.

My sweet precious angels from heaven were being exposed to this.

MY BABIES!!

So opting for the "Flight" response, I tossed up my hands and said, "HEY, I've got a great idea! Why don't we go home RIGHT NOW and I'll make you guys some popcorn and we can watch Cinderella? Because we LOVE Princesses. Yay Disney!! Yay popcorn!! Let's Go!! Bye bye Christopher!! Good luck in school!!"

Less than two minutes later, before anyone had fully comprehended that we were leaving, I had all four children out of the pool, wrapped in towels and heading for the car. And five minutes after that, we were back home and I was trying to convince Charlie that we should solicit bids for a pool in our backyard.

I truly see no reason why we ever need to leave the house, again.

parental self-flagellation

This morning before I started work, I stumbled upon a discussion on this blog where the topic surrounded the idiocy of parents who are trying to teach their babies to read. And well, I thought it would be fun to join in on the conversation.

So I anonymously suggested that my 21-month old son knows how to read and play the piano. And with the use of dried beans, he can do simple addition, subtraction and create images of "The Last Supper." For balance and coordination, I am teaching him to roller skate and to improve dexterity, he uses chopsticks to eat his Cheerios. I further suggested that anyone who is not doing at least as much with their toddler, is lazy and robbing their child of their full potential.

(Michele, I thought for sure you'd know it was me with the use of your tracking software!)

Of course this was all a joke. But I couldn't help but think every so often, I'll find myself engaged in a conversation with someone who has children that are similarly aged to ours. And inevitably, that conversation might turn to all the amazing things that our children are doing.

Yet whenever I find myself engaged in these discussions, I wonder if us parents are primarily proud of our child - or - if we are proud of ourselves that we were responsible for creating such an intelligent individual?

The popular consensus is that children are a direct reflection of their parents. Or at a minimum, children are a direct reflection of the experiences that their parents have exposed them to. So, if a child is able to read and write and tie their shoes by the time they are five, clearly the parents must be doing something amazing.

Right?

We recently took our children out of what we considered to be the best preschool in our area. Even though the director of the preschool told us that leaving them in her school would most certainly guarantee the strongest academic foundation possible, we made the decision to remove our children from school and keep them home with us.

I'll never forget telling the Director that our children would not be returning to school. I'll never forget the stunned disbelief that we would actually take our children out of a program that in her opinion, would undoubtedly path the way for overwhelming success in their life. I'll never forget the frown she gave me which clearly said, "You are making a terrible mistake."

Obviously, I'm not a motivated parent who is concerned about my children's future. Obviously, I have no idea what I'm doing. Obviously, I don't think that my children's education is important.

Sometimes, I believe that I am giving our children the best possible start to life. And other times, I feel like I am blowing it big time. Especially when I get around families that appear to be doing so much more with their kids.

I find myself comparing my children against these other children.

I find myself comparing myself against these other parents.

Oh, I know I shouldn't.

But I do.

Because sometimes I don't know if I'm doing everything right.

Everyone knows that the window of opportunity where children's brains are rapidly developing is small. And unless I jump on the bandwagon of academic exposure now, our children will miss this heightened period of knowledge absorption forever.

So, why aren't they in violin lessons??

Or in preschool a few days a week??

Why is it that I don't provide a more structured learning environment and instead, let the children explore to their heart's content??

I feel a little awkward saying that we 'homeschool' our children because the fact is, there isn't much "schooling" going on. In reality, we have made the decision to keep our children home.

From school.

But I don't know if this really constitutes "homeschool." Because some days, we don't do anything that remotely resembles school.

I'm not pushing them to read. Or write.

Or learn all the flags of the world's nations.

I'm allowing them to play. Because for the most part, I believe that they are learning a lot through their play. But are they learning enough?

Last week, I used a bunch of PVC connections that were laying around and let the children create various pathways for water flow.

While I was helping them with this project, I thought that this provided a great illustration for fluid mechanics and I felt proud of my ingenuity.

But in the midst of this, I happened to notice that one of our children had pooped in the middle of our patio.

So, whatever feeling of pride that I had in regards to raising the next generation of open minded and creative engineers, was quickly replaced with the feeling of dismay that I am raising a bunch of savages.

Welcome to my home school classroom!

You might want to watch where you step.

what's in you wednesday

This morning my husband reminded me that we have a marathon to run in a month and a half. Which you'd never guess if you were to look at what we've been doing to get prepared for said marathon. So, he suggested that we start running a little more than we have been.

He also suggested that we set some simple goals for ourselves. Like, doing 50 push-ups and 100 sit-ups a day. Whenever we think of it, just drop what we are doing and hammer out a quick 10 push-ups. Or 10 sit-ups. If we keep that up, we might be surprised at what we were able to accomplish in mere seconds - at random times - throughout the day.

I think it's very important to set goals for yourself. But when you are setting those goals, I think it is even more important to stay realistic. If you set goals that are too high, you might become discouraged. And soon, you might feel so discouraged that you give up.

For instance... totally hypothetical here ... if you just started running a year ago, and never ran more than eight miles a week, you might be aiming a little high if you trot out and sign yourself up for a marathon.

Because when your running group goes from running six miles on Saturday, to seven miles on Saturday, to eight miles on Saturday ... and then you miss a few weeks of practice and the next time you show up they are up to 18 MILES ... you might feel the urge to cry.

(Or dry heave.)

And you might feel frustrated that when you first joined this torture running group you actually ENJOYED running and now just the mere THOUGHT of running makes your entire body hurt. You might actually discover that any desire you had to run is gone.

Like the wind.

(Or, the candy that you ate on the sly from your children's Easter basket.)

And when you arrive at your training session and look at all of your team members stretching and getting pumped up to run for what would take you an entire day, you decide that sitting in your car while eating a PowerBar and laughing hysterically to Click and Clack sounds like the best idea you've ever heard. In your entire life.

So what does this have to do with me?

NOTHING.

Nothing at all.

I just think that if you are new to the sport of running and are very slow and have a problem with your feet falling asleep after two miles, and that foot-sleeping-issue is not linked to your shoes being too small or laced too tightly but is in fact determined to be a circulatory disorder, you might want to reconsider running 26.2 miles at once.

Sorry. I totally forgot where I was going with this.

Ah, flowers. So lovely.

Next week, we'll discuss denial and what it means to be up to your eyeballs in it.

kids these days are smart

If I had a few extra hours every day, I'd really like to take a cooking class and learn how to use those ubiquitous things that they call "pots" and "pans". I'd like to have the ability to open the refrigerator and see various things ('ingredients' some might call them) sitting on a shelf and just instinctively know how to create a wonderful meal.

I'd like to learn a second language.

I'd like to take a photography class and learn how to use all of the settings on my camera. But until such time that I have more hours in the day - or am struck with the ability to easily absorb knowledge - I'm happy to report that my 16-year old niece, Angela, has given me a brief overview of Photoshop, which is one of those things I've always wanted to understand.

Charlie bought me Photoshop last year for Christmas and after I loaded it on to my computer and realized that it was not at all intuitive, I haven't done anything with it for 16 months. Except see it load on to my sidebar every time I start my computer and frustratedly think, "Hopefully, I'll figure THAT out before I'm 90."

When our family was here this past weekend, Angela pulled up a chair and showed me how to edit photos in Photoshop. I was absolutely blown away by how computer savvy she is at 16-years old. Not only does she know everything there is to know about Photoshop, she fully understands HTML to the point that she created her father's business website entirely from scratch.

When she was eleven.

Angela took this picture of Sir Henry Elton John, with William in the background, and with a simple little zip zap of this and that ...

Created this picture...

I was amazed. Much like I was amazed when William figured out how to access Live World News on our Wii. And Carolyn figured out how to change her Wii profile picture. And Elizabeth figured out how to reset all of our computer settings.

When I asked Angela how she learned all of these things on her own, she said "I just tinker until I can understand how things work. It's pretty simple, really. You know?"

No. I don't know.

I don't know at all.

Charlie recently adjusted my running watch because although I've tried to make adjustments, ever since Day Light Savings time started last month, the time has been off by an hour. And after trying desperately to read the owners manual for our stereo receiver, I still couldn't figure out how to turn off the speakers in our dining room so I unplugged all of the wires from our home entertainment system. This caused my husband a great deal of anxiety. But, that's what he gets for going to work.

I've resigned myself to the shallow end of obtaining certain knowledge. I know my patience level and I know my limitations. I know that the way I learn is to have someone stand directly in front of me and walk me through something, step by step. By step.

If the way the children have been figuring things out with various electronic equipment is any indication of their technical prowess, very soon, I'll have tots riding around in carseats who know more about computer applications than me.

easter memories

The past few days have been a lot of fun. We've been spending time with our family that has been in town from northern California and we've had a great time together. Such fun, in fact, that we are wondering why we don't live closer to each other.


But it seems this type of discussion always happens whenever we get around family.

At some point on Saturday night, after we had gone to church and had dinner and tucked the children in to bed, we were enjoying our third second bottle of wine and making plans for our eventual move that would allow us to be neighbors.

It was determined that my sister-in-law, Kathy, a certified teacher would help us with homeschooling. And Steve a professional contractor, could help up with anything home improvement oriented. Or, he could just serve at the cool Uncle that always gives shoulder rides through Costco.

Late in to the evening we discussed our future plans while we created Easter baskets for the children. And then, just when we felt our steam start to wear off, we opened another bottle of wine and watched an "On Demand" movie.

(Ghost Town . I highly recommend it.)

Alas, it seemed like we had just gone to bed and the sun had barely crossed the plane of the horizon on Sunday morning, when there were four rambunctious children in our bedroom and three of them were announcing loudly that the EASTER BUNNY had come to visit. And LOOK! he had brought CANDY!!!

The kids were giddy with excitement and there was absolutely no way we could bribe them to go back to bed for 10 minutes. Or two hours.

We tried.

At one point, Carolyn took a break from jumping on the bed and telling us what a WONDERFUL day it was, to notice that there were two empty bottles of wine on Charlie's dresser (that he was hanging on to so he could order more of this particular label) and she asked, "Daddy! Did the Easter Bunny bring you that?"

My husband groggily replied, "No, Love. The Easter Bunny didn't bring empty bottles of wine. But thankfully, he did bring some Extra Strength Excedrin."

(And thankfully ... they worked.)

Tonight when the children were tucked in to bed and cuddling with the beautiful hand-crocheted animals their extremely talented Aunt Kathy made them for Easter, I reminded the children that the wool yarn Aunt Kathy used to make these little animals, had actually come from their Daddy's mother, Grandma Jeanne.

Charlie's mother, Jeanne, was an outstanding crafter. She sewed her own wedding dress, knit sweaters for her grandchildren, crocheted gorgeous blankets and wove shawls and rugs. When she passed away in 1992, Kathy collected all of her left over yarn and has been using it to make creations for people within the family. Which I think is an extremely creative gesture to help the memory of Jeanne live on in a beautiful way.

That's how Kathy operates. She is extremely creative and has a heart of gold.

So tonight when I was telling the kids that the triceratops that Aunt Kathy made for William was made from Grandma Jeanne's wool, as were the owl for Henry, giraffe for Gracie and the lion for Elizabeth, the children sweetly asked, "Where is Grandma Jeanne?"

I gently explained that Grandma Jeanne was Daddy's mommy and she was living with God. And although we couldn't see her anymore, she was in our heart. Then while I rubbed their backs, I continued that Grandma Jeanne was alive in each one of them because she was a part of who they are. She was a part of their arms, legs, feet, belly, ears, nose and eyes.

After pondering this for a moment, Elizabeth sat up and taking my hands said, "Mom, I think that I need to go back in to your belly and then, I need to go in to your heart and I need to take Molly and Grandma Jeanne out and bring them here, so we can see them and hug them. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"

It breaks my heart because I wish so much that my children could have had the opportunity to meet their paternal grandmother. Or perhaps even more so, I wish that Grandma Jeanne could have had the opportunity to meet her youngest son's children.


I just know she would have just adored them.

Because ... who in their right mind wouldn't?


While I sat on the edge of their bed, I took a deep breath and continued, "It makes me a little sad that Grandma Jeanne isn't right here with us. And although we could be sad about the things that we don't have, we need to think about and focus on those things that we do have." Everyone was quiet for a moment before I asked the children, "So, what are you thankful for?"

Carolyn answered first and smiling brightly, hugged her new giraffe and said, "My giraffe. I love him!" Elizabeth answered next by holding up her beloved bunny and flashing me a grin around the thumb that was stuck in her mouth.

When it was William's turn, he closed his eyes for a moment in deep thought, before opening them and responding, "I'm really thankful for my Easter basket and all the candy that was in it. Because Mom? I looove candy!"

Then he looked up at the ceiling and giving a thumbs up shouted, "Thank you Jesus for my jelly beans!"

I'm beginning to think that if I could take him on a preschool comedy tour, I'd have his college tuition paid in full.

favorite thing friday

Charlie's brother, Steve, and his wife, Kathy, and their 16-year old daughter, Angela, are visiting with us. They are on a road trip to southern California, from northern California, to look at colleges for Angela who will be graduating from high school in 2010.

The last time I saw Angela she was 13-years-old and four inches shorter than me. Now, she's four inches taller at 5'11". Charlie has some very tall genes in his family considering he is the shortest of his three brothers (by several inches) at 6'1". One of our nieces, Alice, was 6'2" at the age of 17.

You know, up until the time I became a part of this family, I had never felt short before. But around my husband's people, I feel like a dwarf.

Because our dining room table only seats six chairs - and we had nine people gathered tonight - I opted to sit with our four children at their small table, so that they weren't eating alone. Seeing as I'm so small in stature, I fit perfectly well at the kiddie table and all of us little people had a grand time.

We bought the children their kiddie table two years ago from Pottery Barn Kids and it has been a wonderful addition to our furniture collection. Although we had bought a bar height table a few years ago for our kitchen, the chairs were way too high and our tile floor was way too hard for a house with so many small children that enjoy climbing way too much.

So we moved our big table out to the garage and put the kiddie table in it's place. And now, every night, our entire family gathers around the kiddie table to eat dinner. Except for when we have company, or we feel like being fancy. And only then, will we move in to the formal dining room.

What I love about our kiddie table - other than the fact that it is the perfect size for children and they use it all the time - is that it is made of such high quality materials, that I consider it "heirloom" caliber. I've seen other kiddie tables before and none of them are as durable or as aesthetically pleasing as the one we own. Not to mention, it is so sturdy that I fully expect it will be passed down to our grandchildren.

Because I have vowed to myself that I will not bring anything else in to our small house that we do not absolutely positively need. And because I have a Pottery Barn Rewards Certificate that is burning a hole in my pocket which expires soon, I will be raffling off one Pottery Barn Kids table and chair set.

For a $5.00 donation to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society via either Me or Charlie and a comment left on THIS post, you will be entered in to a raffle to win a table and two chair set that has an estimated value of $200.00. (That includes tax and shipping.) (Additional chairs can be purchased separately if you have more than two small people in residence.)

Note: If you make an online donation, please be sure to add PBK next to your name so that I can clearly make it out when it comes time to select a winner. (If you don't add this detail, it won't exclude you from the contest, it just makes it more difficult for me to identify you when I'm trying to sort through the names.)

If you would prefer to send a check, please make it payable to: The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. You can mail it to: The Amazing Trip to Cure Cancer, 2220 Otay Lakes Road, Suite 502, PMB #99, Chula Vista, CA 91915. However, to be entered in to this contest, all donations must be received by Monday April 19.

In case you didn't notice: I'm not including Margaret in this particular contest because now that we've all reached our minimum fundraising goals, the contest is to try and CATCH UP TO HER. Enough with the, "Oh, poor Maggie has twice as much money to raise as us!" pity party. While I thought we had all agreed to give up running for Lent, it seems she is now able to run 12 miles at a pop and she has raised almost three times as much as Charlie.

What's up with that?!

So the table and chair set comes in either espresso ...


Or, white and green.

I love both of these sets and I know that any small people that you have in your household would love them, too. As would their little friends.

And you might even love it, if you found yourself sequestered to the small table when your giant-sized family was visiting. For fun, you could yell over to them, "Hey where do you guys keep the goose that lays the golden egg?" Then when everyone gives you a perplexed look you could awkwardly say, "You know, from Jack and the Beanstalk? Ha. ha. Um. Do you have the sweet potatoes over there? Please don't crush me!!"

For a $5.00 donation, you will be entered in to the contest to win this beautiful set.

Your donation is 100% tax deductible.

Your donation will hopefully, get us closer to catching Maggie. Because it would be wrong on so many levels if she smoked us on the course and in fundraising.

But most importantly: your donation is fueling research for a cure which will help people - including Deana - have the opportunity to watch her beautiful little boys grow up.

The winner will be selected by Random Generator and announced on April 19, 2009.

Ready? Set? Let's GO!!

the great imagination

One day he is able to fly.


One day he is Spiderman.


One day he is Dash.


One day he is Pinocchio.


One day he is a pirate. Or a skeleton.


William has the most vivid imagination of our children. Currently, he won't answer to William, and only answers to John or Michael. Those are the little boys from the story "Peter Pan."

For the past several months, he has had an imaginary friend, Tresiam.

Tresiam is green and has leaves on his head. Sometimes, Tresiam lives in a tree. Sometimes, Tresiam is his daddy. Sometimes, Tresiam is growing in his belly. All the time, Tresiam is his best friend. I initially thought Tresiam was a child at his school. But when I asked the schoolmaster about a "Tresiam" she went through every class roster and told me that there was no one by that name.

Within the past few days, William has another new friend, Straw.

Straw goes everywhere with us.

When I took the children to get their haircut one day last week, William lost Straw. He was on the verge of collapse as we were walking out of the salon and the stylist who had just cut his hair looked at me with a very concerned expression and said, "Oh dear. Did he lose a toy?" Before I could respond, William sobbed, "Straw! I lost MY Straw!!"

The stylist frowned and asked, "Straw? I've never heard of Straw before. What does that look like so I can keep my eyes peeled?" I smiled and said, "It's a plastic thing that you might use to suck fluids from a cup." She gave me a puzzled look and I added, "Don't worry about looking for it. I have a box of 500 at home."

Charlie keeps telling me that he'd like to go on a date night to a comedy club.

But I can't imagine any of the paid professionals could put on as good of a show as what we get for free at home.