Madi Lou Turns Two


Madelyn Noel

Madi...

Madi girl...

Madi Lou Who...

Madi Paddy Pudding and Pie....

My sweet Madi, sometimes I think you have more nicknames than days you have been alive. You've been alive for roughly 730 days....also known as 2 years. I can't believe how fast the time goes and it scares me that time flies more and more quickly every year. I'm afraid that one of these days I will go to sleep and you will be 30 years old.

But for now, you are 2.

The "terrible 2's" they say. (For the record, 3's are highly underrated as a terrible age). But you aren't a terrible 2 year old at all (knock on wood). You are a sweet two year old. Much more sweet than I ever thought possible for a toddler. Everything is "yes mama" and "okay mama" and "yes peas" and "velcome" and "tanks". I don't know how I got so lucky to have an easy child, but I did. You are very complacent... something that worries me for you later, but for now I just appreciate it.

Despite your sweetness, you hold back hugs and kisses and snuggles. You have no time for any of that business. There is a cat to chase, a dog to bug, a sister to bother, and things to get into. After all, the cat food isn't going to spread itself all over the house by itself. The toilet paper isn't going to get unrolled without your help. But I wish you would stop sometimes and give me a kiss instead of saying, "No mama. No fiss!" No fisses (kisses in Madi language) for anyone really....only if you're sick and needy. Then, fisses for everyone, even though that is not the time for anyone to be spreading their germs via fisses...but I take them anyway because who knows when I will get the next fiss from you.

I love your hair. Every little girl with curly hair has become you now. I see little girls with curly hair and smile to myself thinking, "That's my little Madi." Your curly hair makes me smile more than you know. I love how it bounces whenever you run or "jump", which for now is just lifting one leg up and slamming it down. We'll work on that. Haha...

But every morning when you wake up, your hair is 3 ft wide by 3 ft high. I know that you will hate it. I love it and so will thousands of other people who wish for curly hair. That's how life goes. Thank your dad for your hair. His hair gets really big and poofy when it gets long. Just so you know, this is why he keeps it so short.

I'm so sad that Grandma Barb isn't here to help you celebrate this birthday or any after this either. I wish you could have known her and that she could have known your personality. She would have adored you with your cute grin and bouncy hair. You would have made her laugh and she would have tried to steal many fisses. She would have called you a little stinker for not giving hugs or fisses freely. But she would have loved you so very much.

I hope you have a great birthday, but I know this day means very little to you at this point in your life. When we tell you to blow out the candles on your cake, you will spit all over the place. When we give you a present to open, you will take the bow and run off (probably to feed it to the dog). When we sing happy birthday, you will try to sing along. It's okay. Soon enough you'll get it.

And then you'll be mad that your birthday is so close to Christmas. Sorry about that....all the good times so close together and then nothing for you for 11 more months. I tried to talk your dad into doing half-birthdays. He said that was lame. He's often a party-pooper, but you'll never have to wonder if he loves you...this I can promise. And I promise that I will always love you more than you ever know and I hope that you never change.

Well, I do hope that you eventually give me more fisses... but that's it.

Happy Birthday Madi girl!
 
 
 
 

Progress

To fully enjoy the irony that is this post, there are two things you must know;

1. I am a horrible cook, especially when compared to my very knowledgeable and talented chef husband. He can take two pinto beans and a drop of water and turn it into a batch of fluffy pancakes. On my best day I struggle with Hamburger Helper. That's no joke. I've made it both too thick and too thin...on multiple occasions.

2. My grandma made Suzy Homemaker look like absolute failure/slob/amateur. She knew how to do everything around the house including but not limited to; sewing, ironing, starching, stitching, crocheting, hemming, baking, cooking, cleaning, and making everything look fabulously easy. I learned nothing from her. I suck. I should have picked up some tips, but while she was making pie crust from scratch, I was eating her scraps....that she threw sugar and cinnamon on and baked for me....because I was ridiculously spoiled.

So keeping those two facts in mind....

Savannah and I were baking sugar cookies the other day. I'm not especially talented at making these nor do I enjoy it necessarily, but my love of sugar cookies is stronger than my setbacks. I LOVE these cookies almost as much as I love my children. In fact, on their worst days (no naps, teething, etc), I might love sugar cookies more than I love my kids. See the title of this blog if that shocks you. ;)

Anyway, we're making cookies together. The dough is thick and needs a good pin-rolling. Savannah loves to use the rolling pin whenever it's necessary and sometimes when it isn't at all. So of course I let her do that step (and any other step that I don't like to do...she basically makes the cookies herself with my managing). As she starts to flatten the dough, it sticks on the rolling pin. "Mommmm....the cookies just keep rolling up!"

I grab some flour and spread it all over the rolling pin and hand it back to Savannah. "It doesn't stick if you do this." I tell her. Just then Jim walks in. I think he thought he was going to need to bail me out of this cooking predicament....as he often does.  "Hmmm..." He says. "What?" I ask. "It seems that you did pick up some things from your gram." I smile. Maybe I did. Maybe I subconsciously learned more than I thought while I was stuffing my face with her delicious concoctions.

So I've decided that I'm going to start trying some other things that she did around the house. Don't get too excited though, nothing big. I'll work my way up to ironing slowly. Those kind of difficult tasks that are better left to the experts.

As for now, I'm just going to start with trying things like separating laundry correctly. Once I master that, I have every intention of learning how to hang clothes up to dry. It's going to be awhile before I get to gravy making and all that business. Perhaps by the time that I reach grandma age, I will know how to sew.

Lets not let ourselves get too far ahead now. Baby steps.

Ho Ho Ho Translates to...

So my 6 year old is already becoming skeptical about Santa. She's already asking me questions about him and saying things like, "I think he's just a man in a suit." Frankly, I think this is bs. I think I'm getting screwed over in the "fun times for parents" department, but I learned that life wasn't fair a lonnnnnnngggggggg time ago.

What can you do? Sometimes we just get hard breaks. Thankfully for me, in the end, I was blessed with the three most beautiful kids in the whole world. One has an abnormally large head (Nolan), but they are gorgeous none the less....

Anyway, Savannah has become skeptical. She's asking me a million questions a day. "Well, how do reindeer fly anyway?" "Well, how does he get to every house in one night?" "Well how does he fit down chimneys?"

Again, bs because she is only in 1st grade and I assumed I would have like 3 more years but what can you do?

I expected these questions, though not as soon, but I did expect them. And I did plan answers so I'm good. (Dear Mother of the Year Committee, I have answers!!!!) So of course I answered completed honest with the, "It's a Christmas Miracle!!!" to every question. Don't judge me. You don't know what I go through...

But then, I remember that I am raising Savannah.

And not just any Savannah, but MY Savannah. This is the same girl that asked me what color her clear straw was when she was 2. TWO. As in not one, but TWO YEARS OLD. Have you ever explained what color clear is? Good freaking luck!!!! If you can answer that, let me know. I have a million dollars that says you cant.

Anyway, Savannah asks me what 'Ho, ho, ho' means. I answer that it is something that Santa says. Normal kids say, "Oh, okay."

Savannah says, "I know, but like, what does it mean? Like what is it in Spanish or whatever? What does it translate to?"

What does it translate to? It translates to Ho Ho Ho. Same same. No one asks these kinds of questions. Only her. So I answer that 'ho ho ho' is a laugh for Santa. She looks at me with a puzzled look.

"I'm just going to ask Santa." She says,

"Okay." I say. I try as hard as I can. You have no idea how it is to raise a kid that has been smarter than you since week 5. WEEK 5!!!!

We go to the mall and wait in line for Santa. Savannah goes over her list. "I'm going to tell Santa what Madelyn wants for Christmas because he won't understand her." Good call. He won't. She speaks Spanish....in English...with French accents...and the occasional German tone...with Chinese words thrown in. It's ridiculous.

Finally we get to Santa.

The elves are tricky. They ask Savannah's name and then tell Santa secretly so that he knows to say to Savannah, "And how are you Savannah?!" This blows her mind more than anyone knows. Later she will ask, "How did he know?" For now, she just looks at me in amazement.

"What does 'Ho, Ho, Ho' mean?" She asks Santa. Dear Savannah, by the way, you don't ask Santa questions. He asks you.

Santa looks at her like "What kind of kid asks this? I have never been asked this in my 40 years" I look back at him like, "I know, right? This is what I deal with daily. She's been like this since day one."

There is a pause and then Savannah says, "Does 'Ho Ho Ho' mean something or what?"

Santa says, "Ho, ho, ho! You've been a good girl! I can tell."

Nicely done Santa. Way to drop the ball. I can do better than that. I'm just saying.....

Savannah was not impressed with his answer, but she was BEYOND impressed that he knew her name. Apparently that's all that matters? I guess next time she asks me how a combustion engine works I will just answer, "Oh, Savannah, I see you have been a good girl!"

Ho Ho Ho...

Hahaha






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Thankful For What?!


If you've never met my 6 year old, Savannah, let me introduce her. This picture will tell you everything you need to know.




Like every single elementary school student in the history of...ever, my daughter did the cliché Thanksgiving art project; make a turkey, write what you're thankful for on the feather thingies.

Like every elementary school student, she listed the predictable things. She was thankful for her mama (aweee), thankful for her dads (aweeee), thankful for food (if you knew her, you would know this is probably #1 to her), and then there was the last one...

"I am thankful for toilet paper."

Yes, toilet paper.

WHO EVEN THINKS OF THAT?!!

Savannah. Savannah does. Because that is her. Because she thinks outside the box. Because she refuses to be a sheep who follows along. Because she is creative.

But mostly because she is weird.

Yes, I just said that about my child. No, I don't have any regrets. No, I am not issuing a public apology on the news because I got caught and millions of PTA moms all over the world call for a retraction. She's weird. I stand by that.

Make no mistake about it, her weirdness is good for the most part. If for no other reason than because it gives me a good laugh and a great blog post subject....like this one.

On a side note, though we often take toilet paper for granted, I do believe that if we had to go back to moss, we would all be thankful for it.

That being said, all the other first graders were thankful for their siblings, their toys, their houses, their pets....

...and then mine was thankful for butt wipe.
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F$%* Mama, F$%*!

I need a shirt that says, "She is not saying the f-word." I also need to get Madi a matching one, but hers will say, "I'm not saying the f-word". We can be matchy-matchy for once. It will be cute.

Madi loves trucks. LOVES them. Log trucks, semi-trucks, dump trucks, big vehicles that look like trucks... loves them all. It makes her day to see them. She can be mid-melt down in the car (which is pretty regular),  and if she sees a truck she will immediately stop crying and start excitedly yelling, "Truck! Truck!" It's very cute, with one little exception...

She has a minor speech impediment for the time being. Her "tr" sound somehow becomes an "f" sound. So when she gets excited about a truck, she thinks she is saying "truck", but really it comes out of her mouth sounding like, "F*ck mama! F*ck!"

Now being her mother (and knowing everything of course), I understand what she is saying. For the rest of the mere-mortals out there (and no judgment there), it just sounds like she has spent too much time around the drivers of the trucks that she loves so much. In other words, to everyone around us my little 2 year old appears to be saying the f-word.

She isn't. I promise. I wish I could tell you all that, but I know it would appear that I was just trying to save face. Most of you would just think I was lying to keep in good with the Mother of the Year committee.

This is not the case. I fully admit to the fact that I have taught my children potty words. I have a potty mouth and I'm not very good at keeping those potty words inside sometimes. I take full credit for Savannah's "damn it!" phase....as well as the shit phase, son of a bleep phase, and of course the awful f-word phase. I'm guilty.

I am not guilty of teaching Madelyn to say the f-word, not yet anyway. She isn't saying the f-word. She's saying truck.

So, to the little old lady who shot me a murderous, death glare the other day in the store when we were in the toy aisle and Madelyn saw a "f*ck", she was saying TRUCK! You can take back your murderous, death glare. I'm not a horrible mother.

Okay, sometimes I am a horrible mother.

But I'm innocent in this case.

She said truck.

Not, f*ck.




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Super Savannah

For those of you who don't know, I have epilepsy. It's annoying. I cry every time I have a seizure because I just want to be normal. That being said, I know that there are worse things that I could have. I'm not dying so that's good.

On Saturday morning, I had a pretty good (or bad?) seizure in the bathroom when my girls were taking a bath. Jim had run down to his work for a moment so it was just me and the kids. I fell onto the toilet, broke the seat (because if I'm going down, I'm taking something with me!), and then eventually hit the floor. I have no memory of any of it....as is always the case. Apparently the brains way of saving me from the trauma. I appreciate that.

Meanwhile while I was passed out, my little 4 foot tall hero, Savannah immediately went into survival mode. Remember, she's 6...

Savannah got out of the bath and then lifted Madelyn (2) out of the bath as well. Later she told me that she didn't want Madi to drown. Though they fight, it's moments like this that prove they actually do love each other...though neither will admit it very often.

Once they were out of the bath, Savannah grabbed my phone to call for help. She scrolled through my contacts and called "Dad". She thought that I would put my husband under Dad in my phone. She meant to call Jim, but ended up calling my dad instead, which was fine too though it didn't take her to her dad...

Soon after, Jim came home and got me upstairs and into bed. Savannah told him what had happened and he later told me when I came to all the way. See, seizures do this weird thing where even though you are conscious and talking, you are still "not there". It's like dealing with a drunk...or so I've heard anyway. I've never witnessed a seizure myself.

Savannah later told me how scared and worried she was. This breaks my heart, but I think in the end it will make her more well-rounded...or at least that's what I'm telling myself anyway. I hate that she has to see them, but there isn't much that I can do to prevent them beyond taking care of myself. Sometimes they come out of nowhere and I can't do anything about that.

I am beyond proud of the way that my oldest handled everything on Saturday. She was truly a hero and did everything perfectly right. I am amazed at the fact that she could do all of this while obviously panicking inside. And that she thought about her sister in such a traumatizing event makes my heart happy.

So while I make a frillion zillion mistakes (daily), it's moments like this that remind me that perhaps I am doing a few things right along the way.

But let's not let that get out. I have a reputation as Worst Mother of the Year to uphold...


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Go Home Tuesday, You're Drunk

Yesterday started with my husband waking me up before he left for work. "Savannah's cough is worse. I dunno if she should go to school." She had missed the day before because she was "sick". So sick that she ran and played all day with her little sister. I had no intentions of letting her miss another day.

"Oh, she's going to school!" I told my husband. She has missed a lot of days already and we're only two months in. This is partially due to other parents never keeping their kids home when they're sick....but that's none of my business. Either way, Savannah was going to school, even if she had Ebola. I don't have time for Truancy court...for a 6 year old.

So I got the princess up, made her get dressed, got the little kids ready and headed out the door to take Savannah to the bus. Once I got Madelyn strapped into her car seat, I closed her door...or attempted to anyway. It bounced back open. "What the??" I said to myself. I tried it again. It bounced open again.

Because I'm not very smart, I opened and closed it approximately 31,000 more times. I jiggled the handle, played with the latch, locked and unlocked it, and did every other thing that I could think of to "fix" it. Nothing worked. It kept bouncing back open.

"WE ARE NOT MISSING SCHOOL!" I said to myself.

Knowing that it's never a good idea to drive down the road with your toddler's door open, I pondered all of my options. I went to find a rope. Instead, I found a bungee cord. Even better!

I wrapped the cord over, around, through, and under every thing that was solid on the door and the car to ensure that it would not fly open during the drive. Yes, I most definitely am white trash, despite my best efforts to hide that some days. I didn't care. We were not going to miss school for this and I am not a mechanic.

As soon as I got it jimmy-rigged, I closed it Madi's door last time. It latched this time. Of course it did.

Happy that it finally closed right, even if it took me a half hour, I rushed into the car to head to the bus. I forgot my coffee was sitting on the middle console. My forgetfulness caused my very full cup of coffee to decorate the interior of 99% of the inside of my car. Coffee was on everything. Surprisingly enough, it hardly made a difference on my already trashed mom car.

Like troopers though, we trekked on. Savannah was not missing school. We got to the bus with seconds to spare before the bus should have arrived. We waited...and waited...and waited. "Damn!" I thought to myself. "The driver was early on the one day that I was late. Oh well, I'll drive into town. Savannah is not missing school!"

We arrived in town 15 minutes later. I noticed that the school zone sign was not flashing. "Someone needs yelled at for that crap!" I thought. I'm very in favor of driving slow in the school zone. I don't think that's probably a hotly contested issue, but if it is, I'm on board with the pro-side.

When we turned the corner off main street onto the block that the schools are on, I noticed that there were no cars in any of the parking lots. We were a bit early for school (but late for the bus, go-figure), but I can't believe that we are the first people here.

Then reality slapped me across the face....IT'S FREAKING VETERAN'S DAY. There is no school. I could have slept in. I could have stayed in my pajamas. I could have saved myself two wasted hours of trying to get Savannah to school.

And I did this last year too.

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb girl.

After a good laugh over the matter...because I was two seconds away from crying...I drove back home to enjoy my day.

Then the power went out. I hadn't showered yet. No shower for work? That's great. Also, its the second time in two weeks that I've been forced to go showerless to work. Fabulous!

Then Madi woke up from her nap crying hysterically. Nothing I could do would console her or calm her down. Fun!

Then Nolan woke up, apparently playing follow the leader with his sister, and also cried hysterically. I only have so many shoulders to cry on and hands to pat backs. I could do nothing else for 90 minutes. 90 MINUTES!!! Note to self- get sterilized.

A while later Jim came home and I left for work. Leaving for work means the day cannot possibly get better, just the same or worse. Worse was what happened...

I poured a new cup of coffee for my drive to work. I went to take a sip, hit a bump, and chipped my tooth because I hit it soo hard. That wasn't even the worst part. At the same time that it hit my tooth, coffee also spilled out (thanks to the bump). It was very hot and the whole thing startled (and burnt) me. This was when I dumped the second cup of coffee all over my car.

One would think that at this point, I would have just gone home, gotten in bed, and called it a day. Nope. My boss never accepts the temporarily insane excuse for missing work. I went in. All was well for the rest of the day. Apparently, Tuesday finally passed out.

But this is what happens when Tuesday gets drunk. It starts thinking it's Monday and everything goes wrong. If I didn't have to work, I would have gotten drunk with Tuesday, but I didn't...but I should have.

Go home Tuesday, you're drunk.

The Case Against Public Breastfeeding

 

Oh for goodness sake! How hard is it to just use a cover!

She should be ashamed of herself. There are children around.

In my day, we did that where no one could see us.

Women have no modesty anymore.

I don't want my husband looking at that!

Why can't she just go into the bathroom?!

That is so offensive!

I'm all for breastfeeding, but I don't think it should be done in a public place!

That is an intimate act that should not be for the world to see!





 
 




































































No one would say these about animals.
 
Because it's a natural thing.
 
Not offensive.
 
Not gross.
 
Not sexual.
 
It's just a mother feeding her young.
 
Tell me again why it's different for humans?



****Brought to you by the mother who never breastfed, but who fails to see the big deal.****

I Love Fundraising!

-NO MOM EVER



 
I got an email the other day. It said something along the lines of, "Such and such is selling items from this catalog to raise money for his school. Please help us out!" Not realizing who it was from, my first thought was, "Why the heck would I buy something from your kid. I don't even want to buy something from my own kid, who is also selling things from a magazine!" Then I realized that it wasn't just sent from a random person, it was sent from my very good friend, who I have every intention of helping out now that I know it was from her....
 
(Though I remain steadfast in my previous statement of, "I don't even want to buy something from my own kid!")
 
Savannah came home from school the other day with a fundraiser magazine thingie to sell things to people. I remember doing the same fundraiser a thousand years ago. My gram always bought wrapping paper. I have no idea why I remember something like that when I can't remember what I wore yesterday, but I do remember her always buying wrapping paper.
 
Anyway, Savannah insists on selling a million things so she can win all the prizes they give to good little kids who sell things. By that I mean, good little moms who take their sheets/magazines around to all their friends, family, and co-workers and guilt them into buying things they don't really want/need. I know because I've been the "guilted-into-buying'er". I've bought many a $300 tub of cookie dough so Little Sally could win a yo-yo that she will break in 30.3 seconds.
 
The struggle is real....
 
I dislike being on the selling end of fundraisers (with the exception of bake sales, in which I get to eat any products not sold). I'm not a saleswoman. I feel guilty and annoying and obnoxious when I try to sell things....much like salespeople should feel but don't.
 
I especially dislike the magazine fundraisers. They annoy me. The company uses your kids against you by promising all these prizes if so many items are sold. Then, if you refuse to bug your friends/family/co-workers, you either have to buy a crap ton of crap yourself or hear your child complain that they are the only ones who didn't get the crap yo-yo.
 
"All of my friends got a yo-yo because their moms sold crap, but you don't love me enough!"
 
You're right. I don't. I love you a lot, but I draw the line at selling crap.
 
Ughhh...
 
Shockingly enough (but not really), I haven't sold a single item. The entire order sheet is blank.
 
Then I see an announcement that if parents fill up the entire order form and need new ones, they can get them at the school office.
 
WHAT???!!! There are people using multiple sheets? I can't even imagine getting five items, let alone more than a sheet full.
 
I understand this all goes to a good cause and fundraising is needed, blah blah blah. I still hate selling stuff. The only answer here seems to be for me to buy as many $1 items as possible. Win-win. I just need to actually look through the magazine to see if they offer ant $1 items.
 
While I'm there, I think I'll check out the wrapping paper.



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Savannah Quote Book



Last night I was scrolling through my Facebook account and read through a whole bunch of Savannah quotes that had me laughing so hard that I almost peed my pants.

By the way, after three kids, that isn't hard to do.

That being said, I thought a funny blog post would be to include some of her best moments. After all, her quotes were the reason I started blogging anyway.





 So, I give you the best of Savannah;

Savannah, "mom, it be sooo sad if I was blind...like who would turn my tv on for me?"
***
"Mom, what's your grandma's name?" Savannah asked.
"Barb. Grandma Barb." I answer her.
"Hey! I have a Grandma Barb too!!!" Savannah exclaimed.

***
The cat scratched Madelyn and Savannah says, "Well Shelby, I hope you're proud of yourself!"
***
Savannah, "I don't even know how he (Nolan) holds that big nugget up!"
***
Savannah to Madelyn, "You're heavy for a little girl."
***
Savannah to Madelyn, "I'm growing very tired of pushing you on the quad. Perhaps we could take a break?" My oldest is perhaps from the 17th century?
***
Me to Savannah, who is just in her undies, "Do you plan on getting dressed today?"
"Why? Are we going somewhere?"
***
Me to Savannah- grandma barb was kind of like my mom because my mom was gone.
Savannah- oh because your mom hit someone with a car and went to jail?
Me- where do you get this stuff?
***
"Savannah, I'm the most proud of the part about you being caring!"
"Cool bro."
***
Mopey Savannah, "I'm sad because I'm really going to miss my friends after high school when I go to college."
"Okay but you do know that's 12 years away right?"
***
Savannah, "I think I hear a silent vowel in that word."
***
Savannah very proud of herself, "Mom! I told the bus driver that there were kids in the back eating jelly beans!"
"oh good! I'm sure all the kids on the bus love you!"
"yeah, probably."
***
Savannah just brought me my Mother's Day present from her....a necklace straight out of my jewelry box...in an envelope from Valentine's Day. I love her.
***
Savannah, "can I stay up really late tonight, like till 7:30 or something?"
***
Savannah, "Do I get paid for putting away the dishes?" (Her one daily chore)
Me, "No one pays me to clean the house."
Savannah, "You have the money. Pay your freaking self."
***

Savannah and I were playing guess who, where we give hints about someone or something until the person guesses right. I'm doing Hello Kitty and I say, "She has a really big head...." Savannah interrupts me, "Madi!" Haha....poor lil sister.
***
I have a book of cool old paintings and sculptures with some slight nudity....its old art after all. Savannah flipped through it and says, "Ummm, I think this is a little inappropriate."
***
11 month old Madelyn crawled by Savannah and happened to be chattering, "No, no!" when she went by. Savannah stopped what she was doing and said, "You dont tell me what to do Madi!"
***
"Mom, does it start snowing after 'cook your own turkey' day?"

uhhhh....you mean Thanksgiving?
***
My husbands face is swollen because of an infected tooth. My daughter refused to kiss him today.

"I don't wanna catch the puffy face!!!!"
***
By the way, this was only a year's worth.
I love this girl.





















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