What August Looked Like On Instagram!

September 1, 2015 by Vicki

So long August! Boy, you were a shambles. It’s not too often I would declare an entire month as spectacularly rotten but consider yourself titled.

Then again, according to Instagram you weren’t all that bad and Instagram would never lie would it?

My snap taking was limited but here’s a look at my month via Instagram:

August overview 2August overviewThere was caring for a toddler with a broken leg, home made lemonade, time with the newest Vicklet, parcels with tiny rhino slippers, a fleeting vacay by the wood fire, hanging with the fam bam, Mr Vick doing his best hipster impersonations and full body skateboarding. It’s fair to say it wasn’t a particularly typical month.

Here’s hoping September is completely boring with no broken legs. Oh, and hello spring! Deeeeeelighted that you are here.

How would you describe your August?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT
You can follow Knocked Up and Abroad on Instagram here

In Mourning For the Daughter That Never Was

August 27, 2015 by Vicki


Today I discovered at a routine 19 week ultrasound that I am expecting my third boy and you are never to be. The daughter I have so long assumed would be mine, will never exist.

To be honest I had prepared myself for this. I went through this post in my head before I even knew for sure, but deep down I think I always did know. I suspected you weren’t to be my reality.

I think I’ve been letting go of you for a while now.

Mr Vick assures me that we’ve been dealt this card because we’re good at parenting boys. I do agree. We’re used of doodles not vag here. You might just have created unfamiliar territory which could have turned our parenting confidence into crisis.

Some people may call me shallow and I’m pretty sure society would say I shouldn’t be thinking all these things because healthy babies are above and beyond in importance and so many are denied them. I have been granted three. Trust me, my gratitude is beyond anything that could be described. I am blessed and my boys are my big love. Yet, I am a real person and life has allowed me to meditate on daydreams and craft stories in my head about you. I just thought, and I always have thought, a little girl like you would have been nice to hold onto.

So now, and just for now, I have to let you go. For I know there will be no more baby Vicklets.

I have to let go of names like Poet, Kitty and Matilda which we contemplated for you. I know you would have suited one of those just so.

I have to let go of the quirky, vintage inspired outfits that I so long kept tucked away in a glory box in waiting, just for you. You would have looked beyond delightful in them.

I need not know how to braid or collect any more ribbon for the bows you would have demanded to be tied in your hair. I would have adored brushing your long, shiny hair.

I need to let go of daydreams where your dress swishes about in the sunshine and I show you how to make your first daisy chain crown.

I have to stop considering how I would approach the period talk with you as you navigated towards womanhood. I would have softened your horror and soaked up those magic moments of woman to woman bonding.

I will never have to explain shaving vs. waxing or how to apply liquid eye liner or the importance of primer. Such knowledge of female grooming will be kept just for myself.

I need not worry about how boys and men will treat you. You will never come to me for explanation about their peculiar behavior and annoyances. I will never get to help mend your broken heart.

I need to let go of the title “mother of the bride” because it will never belong to me. That one really stings. I so wanted to shed a tear as you walked down the aisle on your Dad’s arm and fuss over all the details of that day.

Never will I get to share my stories of pregnancy, mother to daughter, and attend the birth of your children. I would have burst with pride that day.

I really wanted all this. I wanted to share all of it with you.

There is a sadness but I’ve grown to trust that it’s just letting go a little for now. My path is not with you in the here and now.

But you and I will meet baby girl.

Not this year. Not next year or the year after, or perhaps even for another twenty years, but I know you will be in my life.

With some time and the unveiling of another generation, you will be mine. I know this.

So we won’t meet as mother and daughter, but you will arrive and be my beautiful grand daughter. I trust this.

All in good time.

Master Plaster No More!

August 25, 2015 by Vicki

Yesterday, after four weeks, Baby Vick had his leg cast and hip spica removed! Oh happy day!

I cannot express the sense of triumph and relief we all felt as a family unit.

And Baby Vick, like a true legend, sat up and had two people attack his leg with some seriously noisy saws and he didn’t lose his shit. Not a single tear. We expected it to be a traumatic experience but nup, this kid, he is one cool cat. Fireman Sam hat and all.

1-DSC_0579DSC_0584I wanted to burst into tears at the sight of his teeny legs and putting a pair of pants on him for the first time in four weeks felt as good as unwrapping a greatly anticipated present on Christmas day.

Ripper news too, he doesn’t require professional rehabilitation nor does he have any restrictions by doctors orders! Win!

DSC_0594Freedom after the cast removal!

Straight afterwards we took him to the pool for a swim. Baby Vick was fist pumping the air about the idea. This is one mega water loving kid. How he has missed it and it was a great way to encourage movement and to free up some of the stiffness that was so obviously bothering him.

A tear came to my eyes when he forgot and attempted to stand a couple of times and toppled straight over in the water. His legs are still permanently bent to the sides like they were when held by plaster for so long and they’re weak. Seeing him like this remind me of what a trauma this little guy has been through. What we’ve all been through (you can read about it here and here to catch up). Yet I feel a great sense of gratitude that he will get to be a normal rambunctious kid again unlike others who have to live with life long physical disabilities.

We still have days of lifting him and slowly helping him find his strength and walking feet but we’re on the way out of this chapter and it feels AWESOME. We are thrilled. It’s like a cloud of stress has cleared and sunshine is shining all over us.

What do you reckon? Five days before I have to start chasing after him again?

{Today I am linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT}

Healesville Lounging

August 20, 2015 by Vicki

Last week we decided we could do with staring at a different set of walls. With newborn life + injured toddler + winter we’ve been spending way too much time at home. Sure, I love the place and all but hanging around so much isn’t our usual style. We were on our way to loony-ville.

Normal going we like to escape every Winter anyway as Mr Vick and I get the seasonal sads a bit. Winter is hard core isn’t it? If you hail from miserable Victoria, you probably know what I mean. It’s been a bleak old winter baby this year. Hard for even the true winter lovers. Or maybe I just made that up.

We had two requirements this year: warmth and kids club. Fiji was mentioned and I was beside myself with hope and excitement about that possibility and then, THEN, Baby Vick went and broke his leg. See ya later Fiji dream!

We had to look a little more close to home for our family vacay. Dull it down a bit. So we found a little cottage south of Healesville which was full of rustic charm, rather a little too authentic for my liking but the boys were besotted by the open fire (there’s the warmth I guess) and it became a center for us to focus on recharging and reconnecting as a family unit. With all the dramatics of recent times, that was what we truly needed from a little winter vacay.

1-Cottage in HealesvilleFlynn in Healesville(‘scuse the Iphone snaps. Someone didn’t take their camera battery charger. Some fancy ones to follow.)

Healesville doesn’t have palm trees or coconuts but it’s got gumtrees and kookaburras (seriously I’ve never seen so many) and one of the states famous family tourist stops: Healesville Sanctuary. We got a zoo membership almost twelve months ago and ever since Little Vick has been nagging us to visit the Sanctuary. With recent happenings and Little Vick’s amazingly maturity and cool headed attitude we felt we owed him the visit. Make it about the kid who hasn’t been in the limelight because he was just born or busted his femur.




We dedicated an entire day to mosey around the Sanctuary to avoid complicating our day or rushing about. I was glad for it. I got to spy on those little Tassie Devils that are so compelling to view for a bit longer and Little Vick was (bossy boots) master of the map guiding us as his heart pleased.

In truth, we didn’t do much on our vacay. The Sanctuary was the highlight. The rest was about lounging around the fire, toasting marshmallows, taking things slow (real slow) and nurturing our little people who so needed it and through that we were nurturing ourselves in a round about way. Sure, it was hectic with a newborn and injured toddler but we took deep breaths, many deep breaths, kept things at an easy walking pace and pulled together as team. It worked in a strange unconventional kinda way and that was a okay.

Augie in HealesvilleDo you like to get away in Winter?

Have you been to Healesville Sanctuary?

Nothing Holds A Good Vick Down

August 18, 2015 by Vicki

Check this kid outDSC_0525

As a friend said to me recently, nothing holds a good Vick down.

What you probably can’t see clearly from this shot is that Baby Vick (has a wicked hipster man bun) has mastered the art of army crawling with a gazillion ton plaster cast and spica glued to him. Yesterday I actually caught him attempting to stand up in it. His sheer determination and strength shining through.

He’s my hero. Seriously, I couldn’t be prouder of my spunk rat (if you’re wondering why Baby Vick has wound up in a plaster cast, you can read my last post here about his naughty femur).

This experience has been the epitome of challenging and testing for us as parents, but I’ve learn’t so much about my little guy. He is stronger and more patient than I ever knew. He has had so much composure and grace in this time of physical crisis. I dunno if I could exercise being such an amazing human  like him. I’m so grateful that he has such qualities and that they have finally been recognised. I had so often put him into the middle wild child basket and not fully understood the complexities of his beautiful little character.

I am also grateful for having time to give to him. He has needed me and I have paused life to just be idle along side him. I have given him the time he has probably deserved all along but has been naturally relinquished being the second, or now middle child. Life has always been busy since he’s been around. Focuses have been all scattered about and only momentarily on him, except for now. Even newborn Mango is weighing in slightly lower on the hierarchy of need for now (as long as he’s fed he’s pleased enough).

I have had to develop games and activities which have required much more interaction. I have developed my funny clowning skills just to bring a smile to his face. We’ve shared some fun and we’ve bonded over many a quiet moment too, which once he would have been too busy to allow or physically ran away from. I feel like we have both truly noticed one another and this broken femur business has zipped us in a little tighter.

It’s funny how life can dish up ridiculously inconvenient and crappy things only to open up opportunity for revelation and growth.

It’s important to recognise and show gratitude for that growth because seeing the good means the overwhelm doesn’t rule the entire battle. We’re still winning then right?

We’re counting down. 6 sleeps to go before the plaster cast is sawn off. A frightening experience that will be, but it will be gone. Baby Vick will be a free agent again and supposedly no rehabilitation will be required (but we’ll have to just wait and see). I expect to feel a rush of relief and a smidgen of joy on that day, and then probably a strange deja vu like frustration will creep in as Baby Vick quickly assumes his role as the household terror, ripping up mischief from dawn to dusk.

But that all scooting, jumping, ninja kicking, rambunctious boy will be back and I’ve missed him. I’m so ready to have him back.

DSC_0531Do you believe there is always something good to learn from a less than ideal situation?

Has it taken a unexpected event for you to really get to know your child?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess for IBOT

The Femur Who Broke

August 6, 2015 by Vicki

Last Sunday was a perfectly pedestrian kinda day until Baby Vick stridded across our lounge room and went bang up on the ground. It’s like a little movie moment vividly on replay in my mind. As he put one foot in front of the other he treaded on a dying balloon that had been hanging around our lounge room well past it’s time. He slid on the rubbery surface and landed awkwardly on his leg. Instantly I recognised that he didn’t look right. His leg was twisted behind him on a 90 degree angle and his cries began immediately. They rang out with a sense of despair and anguish unlike anything Baby Vick has uttered ever before. I collected him from the floor and passed him to his best bud, Daddy. If anything would fix it, a Daddy snuggle would.

The tears and screams kept flowing. There was no let up. My mothering instinct told me he was not okay, that this was not just any old bingle, yet we waited to see what would play out. Would Baby Vick rest and fire up again ready for life? Or would he remain whimpering and holding his little body close to his Dad?

Time did not bring the healing we’d hoped. Baby Vick remained a slave to the pain so a visit to Emergency and an x-ray later delivered a sobering verdict:  a fractured femur. My two year old has a broken leg.

We were shocked. Devastated. Our little guy, so vivacious and full of adventurous life, was now curled up in pain and lacking understanding or comprehension of what had happened. I can’t tell you how my heart sunk for the little guy. Tears sat behind my eyes ready to fall continuously over the next twenty four hours as his treatment unfolded and we started to come to grips with reality of such a serious injury on a wee person.

Baby Vick went into hospital at night fall so I had to man the fort at home. Having a newborn baby was never going to make this experience any easier. Phone calls were exchanged back and forth from the hospital to me at home constantly, yet I still felt removed and guttered because I couldn’t be there with my broken little guy.

It was determined Baby Vick would need to go under a general antithetic to have his leg plastered. This broken leg was feeling like a big dealo very quickly. With such news I rushed to organise Little Vick and Mango so that I could get into the hospital to farewell Baby Vick into theatre the following morning after his admission. I had to be there. There was no holding me back…..except maybe a flat tyre. I’ve not had a flat tyre in my entire life and here at such a pressing moment I was left stationary due to a shit of a flat tyre. I cried. I won’t lie. I cried as time ticked by and I felt like I was missing my opportunity to see my baby pre-surgery. My brother in law was quick to aid me in my damsel in distress moment but it was not without stress. The tyre refused to budge. It would not come off!!! F@#*k!!!! Time kept ticking. I kept crying. I felt slightly manic as I paced waiting for a resolution. In the final hour that tyre removed itself and I made it into the hospital two minutes before Baby Vick was wheeled up to theatre. A lump was heavy in my throat the entire time. Baby Vick of course was distressed which only tugged on my heart strings more.

Mr Vick and I sat devastated with anguish in our hearts waiting for word of the surgeries completion. We could barely exchange a word we were so rocked by all that had unfolded. I cannot even fathom parents with children having life threatening surgery. I was teary and anxious until I was allowed into the recovery ward to see my blonde spunk rat. He was peaceful and serene and I was grateful.

Broken Vick 2

The days since have been long and hard. He spent three nights in hospital. There were many tears and pain killers and we quickly learned the art of distraction. It took quite a bit of educating about how to care for him. A bigger car seat, a trolly and a pram have been hired to transport him for the next four weeks whilst he recovers. There were visits from occupational therapists and physiotherapists who visited me to talk through how I could manage lifting my little man when I have separated abdominal muscles post birth.

Baby Vick has not slept since with muscle spasms and pain. The screaming is break your heart material. We survive on a sniff of sleep and know that it may not get better for some time. This is our rhythm and existence for now. Routines are out, the house is a shambles, personal needs have been relinquished and we are dutiful slaves both day and night to our little guy. All the while there is a newborn to care for and a five year old who demands life to roll out as normal. None of it is easy.

This has been a testing time and we are spreading ourselves thin no doubt. Yet people have been rallying around us lovingly bringing us meals and offering everything from play dates to doing chores to supermarket runs. Peoples good will has really provided a boost. We have been sincerely touched by the generosity and kindness showed by everyone.

And Baby Vick amongst all of this, smiles. During the days he sits patiently (what a relief) and spreads his happy spark and good light around us all. It’s a beautiful display of a strong character and I feel uplifted by his strength and soldier on nature. Because of this, I know he is going to be just fine. Not even a femur who broke can de-sparkle my Baby Vick.

Broken Vick

Has one of your little people suffered with a broken limb?

Any advice on how to entertain a stationary two year old?

One Month On

July 27, 2015 by Vicki

My baby is one month old today! How did that even happen? Time is such an unforgiving thief isn’t it?

It should be noted that we’ve all actually survived an entire month. Kudos to us. This also means I have been in a serious relationship with Netflix for almost the same amount of time.

Mango is a solid little delight. He is doing his newborn thing and charming everyone that comes into his realm, even the baby haters (okay I don’t actually know anyone who hates babies). It’s fair to say I breed them cute. Wanna look?

1-DSC_0330Bit of a dream boat right? He doesn’t just give those little grins away to anyone but when he does, they’re the BOMB!

He is absolutely basking in all my milky goodness. If I don’t breed them cute, I sure breed them hungry! We know how to eat here and lets be honest, there is just so much booby milk he either gulps or drowns. It’s one of the nicer breastfeeding horrors to have I suspect. At his last maternal health nurse check up nearly two weeks ago, he weighed in just over 5 kilograms ALREADY! He fits into three month old clothes. I say that with both pride and a fair smack of bitterness for I fear my newborn is being taken over by chub and seemingly getting older before his time. What happened to me getting an itty bitty one?1-DSC_0363(I know,  you’re thinking he looks pretty itty bitty here right? But that is a big one!)

I will never get enough of this:1-DSC_0341Big brother love is just so sweet. Little Vick is rocking the gig.

The frequency of feeds and lack of sleep has not improved. Let’s hope Mango is at least slurping all the calories right out of me. I suspect my gut will be wobbly jelly and then set like concrete very soon from the amount of eating I am doing to support this little guys demands. Lucky I’m stuck in mombie mode enough to not really care that much about vanity but I did take this post baby selfie. I was trying to knock off one of those glamorous Pinterest scenarios were there’s the before baby and post baby image.

selfie post babyCan I just say, it is not easy holding a newborn and taking a selfie and yes, that is totally baby vom down my side. I thought about changing and then I though f*@#k it! This space is about keeping it real, right? So baby vom ya get. It’s what all the newbie mums are wearing anyway. Let us just celebrate the fact that I am out of my pajamas (it was a winning kinda day).

My little gut is still pretty sticky outtie but I expect nothing less for the next twelve months or so. My post baby bump is always lingering and given I have Diastasis, it’s going to take some serious work. For those of you who have not had their abs stretched to the shizzies yet through pregnancy or who was lucky enough to stretch gracefully, Diastasis is when the abdominal muscles separate from the pressure of a growing bump. What a thoughtful reward for enduring nine months of pregnancy! Anyways, I’m off to the physio in a couple of weeks to get some advice about how to zip me up again safely.

As the weeks go by, a little more calm inches over the household. Perhaps it’s just the chaos is starting to feel more homely, more normal. I dunno, but the Vicklets seem to be settling into their roles as big brothers and accepting that I am not the mum they had just a few weeks ago. I am less available and sure as heck a whole lot less fun. Come nights I feel a pang of guilt for being the grumpiest of the grumps. My tolerance towards the older Vicklets is zilch. Diddly squat. Nada and just hearing myself, I hate zee-self. I am way too craaaanky! I wish I was playing it a bit cooler because naturally I want to win at this motherhood game from every angle. I guess it’ll happen, all in good time.

 Anyone else got a case of the mummy grumps?

Is there anything better than a smiling wee baby?

All The Newborn-ness

July 15, 2015 by Vicki


Here in the land of newborn the anti has upped already from my post just last week. How so much can change in so little time, but lets face it, a day in newborn time can seem like a week in normal time.

Smooth sailing and all that braggedy brag stuff, meh, gone. Shit got real.

Sir Mango decided he’d give me a dose of reality to shut my smug right up. He has taken to feeding all the times. Where is he putting it in that tiny little body of his?

Last night I got myself into bed at 9pm. I was proud. It’s an extremely rare event only to be seen a few times a decade from me but I had a serious case of the nods so it had to be done. One problem, my boss is a little guzzling human who had other intentions for me.

Midnight arrived and I realised I’d only been allowed to sleep maybe an hour since I had gone to bed at nine. Sir Mango has fed twice in the space of three hours. I’d like to say my night got better, but I’m sure you can imagine how it went and just when I might harp on about the sleep deprivation feeling like some kind of medieval torture I was reminded by a friend and fellow newborn mum that it can get worse. She is having to hold her newbie all night long, so, I’m doing alright.

Rest might be virtually outlawed but for the most part I am coping okay with it. I seem to be fairly trained up and talented at it thanks to Mango’s brothers. I know I’m doing okay because I haven’t wanted to burst into tears 19 times every single hour of the day. That’s the way the story went previously. A real sook this newborn business usually makes me.

Of course this sudden burst of feeding has made me ask all the questions. There’s a need to find understanding, a cause, a purpose for such intense sessions of boobing. Is it a growth spurt? Is he vomiting too much up after a feed? Should I be settling him instead of offering more boob? I’m surprised that I still feel this need to find answers even though I clearly know, there is no way of knowing the know with a newborn. It is just what it is.

I keep reminding myself that in order to survive, these little humans require equal parts milk and love and it just so happens I’m equipped to provide both of those vitals. It’s a pretty special kinda set up even if the weight of it gets overbearing at times.

The dealo is that newborns need and we as mothers provide. That’s an instinctual thing, an unwritten agreement built into our make up. The foundations of that agreement is formed with love.

So in answer to my questions about why Mango is behaving exactly like a newborn, the very way he should be, it is so I can demonstrate and prove nothing other than love. A love that will create trust and hopefully, a binding life long bond.

How did you cope with the endless hours of feeding a newborn?

How do you cope with broken sleep?

Life With Three

July 10, 2015 by Vicki

Two weeks ago it happened. A distant concept became reality.

I became a mother of three.

I’m still getting used of saying that.

Three. Of. Them. Shizen.

Even if it’s taking my brain some time to catch up, a lovely new baby resides here. I’m pleased he got the memo about being an agreeable and contented third baby. He really is easy. Next to his two year old brother, he is ten squillion times easier.  The routine with him is the same day in, day out. Drink, burp, change, cuddle, sleep. The frequent night time feeds are taxing but I really don’t mind. I can appreciate how this newborn biz is fleeting.August 1

Throughout this process two Vicklet boys have been upgraded to big or bigger brother status which is a harder concept for one of them to accept as the households dynamic has changed forever.

Little Vick is all over this big brother thing. Doting on Mango, asking for cuddles 653 times a day and generally wanting to be a good help. I’m super mumma proud of him. His brother, Baby Vick, has been all shaken up. For a two year old, a new baby is super threatening. He clings to his Dad, often giving me the cold shoulder. The rejection stings but I have to remember how this all must seem from his perspective.

The days are slow and sleepy. They suit the wintery grey skies passing by the window. The heater keeps us snug. We give plenty of cuddles, chocolate milks and have Netflix at the ready. We try our best to make sure everyone is fed, occupied and feeling loved up. I’m surprisingly comfortable with the slower pace and simplicity. This family unit feels tight, we are trying hard to make this transition smooth and in many ways we’re functioning with a greater capability than when we’ve had less pressure and responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, it might sound all lovely and dandy but it’s also chaos. Complete frickin’ madness. I swear it’s like hysteria often sweeps through our home and there is a blast of yelling and tears and demands and bickering and all I can do is shake my head and look at Mr Vick with bewilderment and more often than not, desperation. His patience and care has been truly admirable. He seems to bring calm to all that he does which is precisely what is needed in the here and now with my tolerance bordering on diddly squat. I have to be kind to myself when I question why I can’t serve up the same model parenting skills right now. Three or four hours of broken sleep will do that to even the best intentioned mummas.

Yet, even with the typical post natal hormones, ouchy Dolly boobs, the exhausting antics of a manic two year old and the lack of sleep, I don’t feel as unnerved or shaky as I have previously as a newborn mum. It’s a welcome relief. Whilst the tiredness is lodged in behind my eyes every day, I can feel things other than numbness and I’m enjoying moments threaded through the day. It isn’t all hard work and I’m not wishing these days away as I have done. Instead I remind myself to listen intently to Mango’s little newborn grunts and heavy breathing after he’s just guzzled about 63 litres of breast milk in two minutes flat. To remember the softness of his fluffy newborn hair, all the uber cute little outfits which he’ll probably grow out of by next week and the funny faces he unknowingly pulls in his sleep.

mini shoes

For me it’s true, adjusting to motherhood third time around has been smoother. Less confronting and overwhelming and I’m learning to voice my need for rest or household help. This new found sense of surrender is key in staying together and albeit sane(ish) I’m sure. Mr Vick has been an amazing wing man, listening intently and providing the respite required to ensure I recover and find my feet which are loaded up more heavily than ever before.

Sure, I can gloat now but next week I’ll be up shit creek when Mr Vick returns back to full time study and it will be me solely running this parenting show. I am nervous for sure. I can pre-empt many a yelly bitch faced/smeared tears down my cheeks/want to run away to anywhere else moments a comin’ but for now, I’m learning it’s just a day by day existence. Getting through the next hour without too many struggles or melt downs. Learning to function at this new pace, this new level of demand and craziness all at the same time as experiencing this new level of loveliness and completeness. And so is, life with three.

Three amigos

What help did you get through the newborn haze?

How did you manage with a newborn whilst juggling older children?

If you missed my last post announcing Baby Mango’s arrival and some serious baby spam, click here.

An Introduction: Baby Mango is HERE!

July 4, 2015 by Vicki

It’s time to officially introduce you to someone. The very reason I have been MIA for the last week or two from this space (and a pretty rad reason at that).1-DSC_0076

It’s been just over a week since we welcomed a new little Vicklet into our life. 1-DSC_0130Baby Mango, otherwise known as August (Augie) Quinn in the real, graced us with his (yes! another HE!) presence fashionably late, weighing a hefty 4.515 kg (9lb 9.5oz).1-DSC_0134Yes, he’s a whopper! (just ask my cha cha….)1-DSC_0138He arrived beautifully via water birth and has calmly fitted into our humble existence ever since.1-DSC_0230And so my destiny has been determined. I’m sentenced to a pack of boisterous, rough nut pranksters who think the best things ever invented are cricket and eating. A trifecta set.1-DSC_0097And I couldn’t be more pleased.

Vicki x