You may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a while.
Yeah. About that. Two kids. Harder than one kid. I guess most of you knew that. I underestimated. Hoping life resumes to some semblance of normal at some point.
But I wanted to wish my bloggy friends a Happy New Year and post some of our Christmas photos. Better late than never, right?
Nicknack: two-and-a-half and impossible to photograph
Bitsy: six weeks and a teensy bit cross eyed
This is the best shot out of about 100 taken... The pickings were slim. Maybe next year our son will cooperate.
But at least he likes his baby sister.
I wanted to share this to "keep it real," as they say.
I hope you had a very merry Christmas and the happiest of New Years!
~kittyhox
PS Are you on Facebook? It's a fun way for us Siestas to keep in touch! If you're a Facebooker, let me know! We can be friends!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Introducing...
Introducing...
Elisabeth Talbot
This photo was taken at about two weeks - she turned four weeks yesterday!
She was three weeks early and "small for gestational age." So at 4 pounds 6 ounces she was the size of a preemie, but as developed and generally as healthy as a regular three week old. She is up to 6 and a half pounds and looks so much different already!
We planned to call her Betsy, but because she is so teensy we've been calling her "Bitsy," instead.
Nicknack was a little clingy for a few days, probably more from my prolonged absence at the hospital (we were there a few days because of my preeclampsia and to make sure Bitsy started to put on weight) than from the presence of his "babyseester." He has really warmed up to her and has shown no signs of sibling rivalry. He loves to give her hugs and kisses, pat her head, and help me by getting things for her.
So now we are a happy little family of four. YAY! More photos soon!
Elisabeth Talbot
This photo was taken at about two weeks - she turned four weeks yesterday!
She was three weeks early and "small for gestational age." So at 4 pounds 6 ounces she was the size of a preemie, but as developed and generally as healthy as a regular three week old. She is up to 6 and a half pounds and looks so much different already!
We planned to call her Betsy, but because she is so teensy we've been calling her "Bitsy," instead.
Nicknack was a little clingy for a few days, probably more from my prolonged absence at the hospital (we were there a few days because of my preeclampsia and to make sure Bitsy started to put on weight) than from the presence of his "babyseester." He has really warmed up to her and has shown no signs of sibling rivalry. He loves to give her hugs and kisses, pat her head, and help me by getting things for her.
So now we are a happy little family of four. YAY! More photos soon!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Random Thoughts
I woke up this morning at 4:30 and couldn't get back to sleep. My mind is full of to do list items. Then I started thinking about Nicknack, and finally decided to get up and write a quick post to capture a few random things that he's doing these days, that I don't want to forget.
WARNING: this would bore absolutely anyone other than Nicholas's own parents, I'm quite sure.
I absolutely love this age - I think this is where I would "freeze" him in time, if I could. When he's not having a meltdown, he is pure joy.
I just realized that he finally stopped saying "Where eee you?" and now says "Where are you?" Very sad. I loved that. But he still says, "Where is he go?" when he's hiding. I'll sometimes be somewhere random in the house and hear a far-away voice calling "Ready! Ta DA!" and I realize he's started a game of hide and seek all by himself and I'd better go find him.
As his language has developed we've figured out what were once his mystery phrases. For the longest time he'd always yell: "Back! Back a ME!" Sometime around his second birthday it started turning into what he actually intended, "Mack! Wait for Me! Come back!" from Cars, of course.
He was "Bob-builder" for Halloween this year. We had the construction hat and overalls and down vest - I just bought an orange plaid shirt on clearance. Very easy and inexpensive. He didn't really like trick or treating. Penn took him to about five houses in the neighborhood and he ran into three of them and did a lap. Oops, sorry about that. Two year olds just have no sense of privacy.
Oh, and he's back in school. I know, I know. I've flip flopped. I tried to pull him out but he begged every day for school and I felt horrible. So I talked to his teachers and the school director and we agreed that if transitioning from one activity to another was too much for him they'd let him be, as much as possible. Now that he gets the routine, he's doing pretty well with it. He makes crafts and sits down for snacks with the best of them. Anytime the routine is changed drastically, he has trouble. So on the day the firemen visit and on picture day, etc. I help wrangle him. But he really is crazy about school. When I get him out of the car he runs all the way to his classroom and knocks on the door shouting "Come in!" And he is never as happy as at "gym time" at the end of the day, when the kids have the run of the church gym with about 20 tricycles & push cars, slides, kiddie pools filled with plastic balls, etc. And it's only a grand total of four hours a week, so there you go. In future, I will not start preschool until my other children are at least three. Live and learn.
One thing that I want to record because it makes me SOOOOO happy is that Nicknack has moved past his "full-time mess-maker" status. For a while (around age two) he was into making piles. He would take any and everything loose in the room and stack it into a big mound and then sit in the middle and sort of stir it with his hands and feet. I can't tell you how disheartening it is to pick up all the various items and put them away, make a quick trip to the bathroom, and come back to find a new pile. Sigh.
We've been working on developing good habits, since I am naturally a "messie" who has (with a lot of effort and intention) reformed herself. So every day I ask him to do little helpful things and pick up this or that before moving on to new things. I can't believe how compliant he is - he really likes to help. The best part is that so much of it is now routine. For example, every day when I tell him it's nap time he heads to his room singing "Clean up, Clean up!" because we put all the cars in his room in their bins before nap and bedtime. Two days ago I was shocked because I noticed he'd played with some balls and cones and left them in the living room and when I came back later they were gone. I looked in the ball bin and, sure enough, he'd put them back without any prompting. Love it!
Speaking of habits, Nicholas often sends himself to his room. At least three times a week. We send him to his room when he has a fit. He's welcome to express his frustration, we just don't feel obligated to listen. So we ask him to go to his room and off he runs. Sometimes when he's upset he'll run off to his room and slam the door. He comes back in a couple of minutes and we greet him with a cheerful "HI!" He's not being disobedient or naughty, he just needs a fresh start. The bad part is that he sometimes sends himself to his room when we tell him no in just a slightly firm tone. He says, "Go to my room?" and runs for the hall. It's very sad. He also says he's sorry a lot, for nothing in particular. I haven't figured out how to explain to him when he doesn't have to go to his room or say he's sorry.
He also says "Go on!" and "Be quiet!" I couldn't figure out where he heard "Go on!" (he says it daily!) and was worrying that someone at school said that to him. Grr. I was racking my brain until my mother pointed out that I say it when I'm on the phone with her. I didn't even realize that I was telling him to "Go on, Mama's on the phone" or Go on and play." I think I say it in a pretty kind voice, although that is not how Nicholas seems to have interpreted it. And we have a very noisy pet bird and several times a day he (the bird, not Nicholas) drives me to distraction and I tell him to "BE QUIET!" So Nicknack repeats that, too.
Great. I'm sure he says all of these things at school, probably in succession. "Sorry! Go to my room! Go ON! BE QUIET!" They must think we are so harsh with him when in actuality we are quite calm and shamelessly doting.
Moving on.
He has been transitioned into his big boy room and bed for a month now. The first couple of nights were tricky - we basically had to rock him repeatedly and put him in his bed already asleep. But since then it's been surprisingly smooth. He loves his twin bed - and he looks so little in it! He loves his room. He loves his new bigger boy books and having all his little cars in there to play with on his bookcase. (And I love having them all in once place and not in the living room!) Unfortunately, I'm past the point of being able to comfortably rock him. He and I are both too big. But there is plenty of room for both of us in his bed so sometimes I get in with him and sing to him there and it's so cozy. When he goes away to college someday I'll probably set up residence in his room.
Trying out his new bed.
Jumping on his new bed.
Actually being sleepy in his new bed. (Yes, he still loves his "gigi" (pacifier). No, he's not potty trained yet. Yes, he still drinks from a sippy cup.)
Okay, I'm almost finished.
Another thing that delights me - he loves Mr. Rogers now! This is special to me because I watched Mr. Rogers every day at his age. I seriously adore him and I hope I get to tell him so someday, in heaven. Anyway, Nicholas is just enraptured by the show. Every night we sing three songs from the program and it's touches me the next day to see him sing along while he eats his breakfast and watches "Neighbor show" or "Mr. Robbers."
Okay, only two more things.
Nicknack has chosen a nickname for himself. We've always called him lots of things - monkey, pumpkin, etc. One day, several months ago, I came in the living room and said, "Hi, Bug!" Probably because my mother used to call me "baby bug." At least four or five times that day he repeated, "Hi, BUG!" Then a few days later he had the sniffles. I was holding him and said, "I'm sorry you're sick." He answered back, "I'm sorry you're sick, BUG." I repeated that to him and he gave me a huge smile. Since then, I call him Bug or Buggie. If he has an owie or is upset and I don't use his preferred nickname he'll remind me. For some reason he appreciates being called Bug. He did go through a Bug's Life phase...
Lastly.
You know you're a boy Mama when you take note of every single construction vehicle, garbage truck, etc. even when you're in the car all by yourself. And when you squeal - out loud - because you discover new! Cars! cars at Target ("new" Mater, tractor, and Red!). I'm still excited about it, honestly. I can't wait for Christmas!
Whew! That's all for now.
WARNING: this would bore absolutely anyone other than Nicholas's own parents, I'm quite sure.
I absolutely love this age - I think this is where I would "freeze" him in time, if I could. When he's not having a meltdown, he is pure joy.
I just realized that he finally stopped saying "Where eee you?" and now says "Where are you?" Very sad. I loved that. But he still says, "Where is he go?" when he's hiding. I'll sometimes be somewhere random in the house and hear a far-away voice calling "Ready! Ta DA!" and I realize he's started a game of hide and seek all by himself and I'd better go find him.
As his language has developed we've figured out what were once his mystery phrases. For the longest time he'd always yell: "Back! Back a ME!" Sometime around his second birthday it started turning into what he actually intended, "Mack! Wait for Me! Come back!" from Cars, of course.
He was "Bob-builder" for Halloween this year. We had the construction hat and overalls and down vest - I just bought an orange plaid shirt on clearance. Very easy and inexpensive. He didn't really like trick or treating. Penn took him to about five houses in the neighborhood and he ran into three of them and did a lap. Oops, sorry about that. Two year olds just have no sense of privacy.
Oh, and he's back in school. I know, I know. I've flip flopped. I tried to pull him out but he begged every day for school and I felt horrible. So I talked to his teachers and the school director and we agreed that if transitioning from one activity to another was too much for him they'd let him be, as much as possible. Now that he gets the routine, he's doing pretty well with it. He makes crafts and sits down for snacks with the best of them. Anytime the routine is changed drastically, he has trouble. So on the day the firemen visit and on picture day, etc. I help wrangle him. But he really is crazy about school. When I get him out of the car he runs all the way to his classroom and knocks on the door shouting "Come in!" And he is never as happy as at "gym time" at the end of the day, when the kids have the run of the church gym with about 20 tricycles & push cars, slides, kiddie pools filled with plastic balls, etc. And it's only a grand total of four hours a week, so there you go. In future, I will not start preschool until my other children are at least three. Live and learn.
One thing that I want to record because it makes me SOOOOO happy is that Nicknack has moved past his "full-time mess-maker" status. For a while (around age two) he was into making piles. He would take any and everything loose in the room and stack it into a big mound and then sit in the middle and sort of stir it with his hands and feet. I can't tell you how disheartening it is to pick up all the various items and put them away, make a quick trip to the bathroom, and come back to find a new pile. Sigh.
We've been working on developing good habits, since I am naturally a "messie" who has (with a lot of effort and intention) reformed herself. So every day I ask him to do little helpful things and pick up this or that before moving on to new things. I can't believe how compliant he is - he really likes to help. The best part is that so much of it is now routine. For example, every day when I tell him it's nap time he heads to his room singing "Clean up, Clean up!" because we put all the cars in his room in their bins before nap and bedtime. Two days ago I was shocked because I noticed he'd played with some balls and cones and left them in the living room and when I came back later they were gone. I looked in the ball bin and, sure enough, he'd put them back without any prompting. Love it!
Speaking of habits, Nicholas often sends himself to his room. At least three times a week. We send him to his room when he has a fit. He's welcome to express his frustration, we just don't feel obligated to listen. So we ask him to go to his room and off he runs. Sometimes when he's upset he'll run off to his room and slam the door. He comes back in a couple of minutes and we greet him with a cheerful "HI!" He's not being disobedient or naughty, he just needs a fresh start. The bad part is that he sometimes sends himself to his room when we tell him no in just a slightly firm tone. He says, "Go to my room?" and runs for the hall. It's very sad. He also says he's sorry a lot, for nothing in particular. I haven't figured out how to explain to him when he doesn't have to go to his room or say he's sorry.
He also says "Go on!" and "Be quiet!" I couldn't figure out where he heard "Go on!" (he says it daily!) and was worrying that someone at school said that to him. Grr. I was racking my brain until my mother pointed out that I say it when I'm on the phone with her. I didn't even realize that I was telling him to "Go on, Mama's on the phone" or Go on and play." I think I say it in a pretty kind voice, although that is not how Nicholas seems to have interpreted it. And we have a very noisy pet bird and several times a day he (the bird, not Nicholas) drives me to distraction and I tell him to "BE QUIET!" So Nicknack repeats that, too.
Great. I'm sure he says all of these things at school, probably in succession. "Sorry! Go to my room! Go ON! BE QUIET!" They must think we are so harsh with him when in actuality we are quite calm and shamelessly doting.
Moving on.
He has been transitioned into his big boy room and bed for a month now. The first couple of nights were tricky - we basically had to rock him repeatedly and put him in his bed already asleep. But since then it's been surprisingly smooth. He loves his twin bed - and he looks so little in it! He loves his room. He loves his new bigger boy books and having all his little cars in there to play with on his bookcase. (And I love having them all in once place and not in the living room!) Unfortunately, I'm past the point of being able to comfortably rock him. He and I are both too big. But there is plenty of room for both of us in his bed so sometimes I get in with him and sing to him there and it's so cozy. When he goes away to college someday I'll probably set up residence in his room.
Trying out his new bed.
Jumping on his new bed.
Actually being sleepy in his new bed. (Yes, he still loves his "gigi" (pacifier). No, he's not potty trained yet. Yes, he still drinks from a sippy cup.)
Okay, I'm almost finished.
Another thing that delights me - he loves Mr. Rogers now! This is special to me because I watched Mr. Rogers every day at his age. I seriously adore him and I hope I get to tell him so someday, in heaven. Anyway, Nicholas is just enraptured by the show. Every night we sing three songs from the program and it's touches me the next day to see him sing along while he eats his breakfast and watches "Neighbor show" or "Mr. Robbers."
Okay, only two more things.
Nicknack has chosen a nickname for himself. We've always called him lots of things - monkey, pumpkin, etc. One day, several months ago, I came in the living room and said, "Hi, Bug!" Probably because my mother used to call me "baby bug." At least four or five times that day he repeated, "Hi, BUG!" Then a few days later he had the sniffles. I was holding him and said, "I'm sorry you're sick." He answered back, "I'm sorry you're sick, BUG." I repeated that to him and he gave me a huge smile. Since then, I call him Bug or Buggie. If he has an owie or is upset and I don't use his preferred nickname he'll remind me. For some reason he appreciates being called Bug. He did go through a Bug's Life phase...
Lastly.
You know you're a boy Mama when you take note of every single construction vehicle, garbage truck, etc. even when you're in the car all by yourself. And when you squeal - out loud - because you discover new! Cars! cars at Target ("new" Mater, tractor, and Red!). I'm still excited about it, honestly. I can't wait for Christmas!
Whew! That's all for now.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Ode to My Laundry System
Although I have many, many homemaking weaknesses, laundry is probably my strong suit. Oh sure, I get backed up on occasion. But because we have a system that works perfectly for our family, it's easy to do a little catch up and get back on track. I recently shared our laundry routine with a friend who was at her wit's end trying to stay on top of her family of four's laundry. After typing it all out I decided to post it here, on my blog. I'd love to hear about your laundry tips and routines, because I'm dorky like that.
First of all, I have three laundry "rules:"
1. Sort as you go!
I can't deal with a big pile or hamper full of mixed up laundry. Ick. Who would want to manage that? If my laundry wasn't in a continuous state of "already sorted" I know myself well enough to know I would put it off until I had to run out and buy everyone in the house new underwear.
So we sort as we remove our clothing, finish with our towel, etc. We have three hampers in our master bedroom closet. Towels (because the towel hamper gets in the way in the bathroom), whites (or almost whites), and darks (aka everything else). I'm not one of those people who separates "darks" from "brights." If it isn't mostly white, it's a dark. (Unless it is a brand new item that is, for example, red, in which case I would round up a bright load for its first washing.)
Nicknack's room has a hamper. Since he is old enough to "help," it is lightweight enough that he can "help" drag said hamper down the hall to the laundry room on his laundry day. Like most two-and-a-half year olds, he loves "helping." I hope it lasts. When our baby girl is born her room will also have it's own hamper.
The kitchen has a small basket for used dishcloths/towels/cleaning rags.
The laundry room has two stacking hampers. One for clothing that requires attention (stain spray or bleach pen). I don't pretreat stains. I'm just too lazy. I just like to have a separate place to keep them so that I don't forget about them and wash them without treating them. Then I find the stain when I'm folding and have to put it through the laundry cycle all over again.
The stacking basket is for those kitchen linens. Since I only wash kitchen linens once a week I try to bring in the basket each day to lay out the towels/cloths that are wet (over the sides of the basket), so they don't get all grungy and moldy. Then when I dump off the next day's load I put those now-dry linens in the basket and lay out the newly wet stuff.
Rule #2: Label all baskets/hampers. This is the only way I've found to get my normally cooperative husband to sort with accuracy. Even if a basket was clearly full of white clothes, he'd toss in a towel. The labels helped, and now it's a habit.
Rule #3: Pull all clothes out of the dryer before it stops dinging, so as to avoid the dreaded task of ironing. I let myself be lazy about rags and towels, though, because who cares if the dishcloth is wrinkly?
Some people will make a very persuasive argument as to why all the household laundry should be laundered on one (or maybe two, depending on the size of the household) day each week. I respectfully disagree. A day of marathon laundering is about the least pleasant day I can think of, and I can't imagine doing that to myself once every seven days. Whereas one or two loads each morning is manageable and not terribly unpleasant. It's easy to motivate yourself when you know that if you just fold that one load that's dinging at you from the dryer, you're finished!
I do have a laundry schedule, which probably makes me sound more organized than I really am. It coincides with my cleaning schedule. For example, I clean the bathrooms on Saturday, so I wash the household towels on Saturday. Please note that I am not an accomplished housekeeper, so I might not actually get to the cleaning part, other than the bare minimum. But we always need clean towels, so I stay on top of laundry, for the most part.
The thing I like about having a schedule - a day for each type of laundry - is that it's easy to play catch up if you slack off for a couple of days. You can just do two days of laundry until you catch back up to the right day and you don't have to stop and figure out where to begin. If you think up a logical schedule for your family it's very easy to memorize. For example, I do Nicknack's laundry before I do whites because his laundry is sure to contain whites that need a little bleach treatment.
Here is our schedule:
Monday - I wash Penn's work darks, which are polos and khakis only. His work week starts on Tuesday, so he has a closet full of fresh work clothing on Tuesday morning, rather than a bunch of empty hangers with only his least favorite polos hanging there. This is the only day I actually do any sorting. I dump out the whole dark hamper, pull out his work clothing, and put the rest back in the hamper. I know that if I tried to make Penn a "work darks" hamper he'd put polos in the regular dark hamper (hey, they're dark!) and his socks in the work hamper (hey, he wears them to work!). So for the sake of simplicity, I break my sort-as-you-go rule.
Tuesday - I wash the rest of our darks (Penn's and mine). This sometimes takes two loads.
Wednesday - I wash Nicknack's laundry. I pull out the things that need bleach treatment and toss them into that stain/bleach basket and pull out the things from the basket that are his that are stained and treat them before tossing them in with the rest of the load.
When the baby is born she'll get her own load on this day, too, separate from Nicknack. Boy clothes tend to be dark-colored, girl clothes tend to be pastel/bright. Also, it's easiest to put clothes away when they stay separate throughout the laundering process. You don't have to run from room to room, you can just take the whole folded basket in and put it all away in the same place.
Thursday - I wash whites, including Nicknack's shirts that needed a little bleach spot treatment. I'm petrified of ruining non-white items with bleach, so I like to have a whole separate day for whites, without any other laundry in the vicinity of the laundry room. Speaking of whites, I keep a "mateless sock" basket in our closet for all the stray socks and I sort through it every time our sock supply seems mysteriously low.
Friday - the day I clean my kitchen thoroughly, I also wash the kitchen linens. I keep them separate from the household towels so I can add bleach.
Saturday - I wash towels. This usually takes two loads, although I don't know why since we all use our towels twice.
Sunday - I wash our sheets. I love to start the week with fresh sheets and I strategically schedule this for Penn's day off so that I can enlist his help in remaking the bed. I HATE dressing the bed.
By the way, we only have one set of sheets per bed (other than crib sheets). I hate folding sheets, especially fitted sheets. So I just strip the bed, wash the sheets/bedding, dry the sheets/bedding, and put it all right back on the bed. It just seems like an extra and unnecessary step to put a different set of sheets on the bed, which would require folding when the old sheets come out of the dryer. But that's just my personal preference, since I try to avoid any extra work whenever possible!
One last tip is that I fold everything on our master bed because the height is perfect, there is a ton of room for sorting folded clothing into categories, and the location is so convenient. It's a good place also, because I can lay out the clothes that require hangers so that they don't get wrinkled while I'm folding everything else. Our bedroom is more pleasant and light-filled than our laundry room and I can watch TV while I fold. The only down side to this is that Nicknack likes to climb up on the bed and "help," occasionally messing up some of the folded laundry. But I figure this is why I stay home with him - to spend time together, not to have perfectly folded laundry.
Okay, so that's our laundry system in a (large) nutshell. As you can see, I'm terribly lax about traditional laundry rules like sorting by color, pre-treating, reading a garment's care label, etc. But I'm pretty emphatic about pre-sorting and folding at the ding. Just because both things prevent a greater deal of work later. It's a system that works for us, as evidenced by the fact that I'm on schedule with our laundry as I type this AND I don't dread laundry, which I used to when I tried to do several loads at once or didn't have everything in a continuous state of "already-sorted."
First of all, I have three laundry "rules:"
1. Sort as you go!
I can't deal with a big pile or hamper full of mixed up laundry. Ick. Who would want to manage that? If my laundry wasn't in a continuous state of "already sorted" I know myself well enough to know I would put it off until I had to run out and buy everyone in the house new underwear.
So we sort as we remove our clothing, finish with our towel, etc. We have three hampers in our master bedroom closet. Towels (because the towel hamper gets in the way in the bathroom), whites (or almost whites), and darks (aka everything else). I'm not one of those people who separates "darks" from "brights." If it isn't mostly white, it's a dark. (Unless it is a brand new item that is, for example, red, in which case I would round up a bright load for its first washing.)
Nicknack's room has a hamper. Since he is old enough to "help," it is lightweight enough that he can "help" drag said hamper down the hall to the laundry room on his laundry day. Like most two-and-a-half year olds, he loves "helping." I hope it lasts. When our baby girl is born her room will also have it's own hamper.
The kitchen has a small basket for used dishcloths/towels/cleaning rags.
The laundry room has two stacking hampers. One for clothing that requires attention (stain spray or bleach pen). I don't pretreat stains. I'm just too lazy. I just like to have a separate place to keep them so that I don't forget about them and wash them without treating them. Then I find the stain when I'm folding and have to put it through the laundry cycle all over again.
The stacking basket is for those kitchen linens. Since I only wash kitchen linens once a week I try to bring in the basket each day to lay out the towels/cloths that are wet (over the sides of the basket), so they don't get all grungy and moldy. Then when I dump off the next day's load I put those now-dry linens in the basket and lay out the newly wet stuff.
Rule #2: Label all baskets/hampers. This is the only way I've found to get my normally cooperative husband to sort with accuracy. Even if a basket was clearly full of white clothes, he'd toss in a towel. The labels helped, and now it's a habit.
Rule #3: Pull all clothes out of the dryer before it stops dinging, so as to avoid the dreaded task of ironing. I let myself be lazy about rags and towels, though, because who cares if the dishcloth is wrinkly?
Some people will make a very persuasive argument as to why all the household laundry should be laundered on one (or maybe two, depending on the size of the household) day each week. I respectfully disagree. A day of marathon laundering is about the least pleasant day I can think of, and I can't imagine doing that to myself once every seven days. Whereas one or two loads each morning is manageable and not terribly unpleasant. It's easy to motivate yourself when you know that if you just fold that one load that's dinging at you from the dryer, you're finished!
I do have a laundry schedule, which probably makes me sound more organized than I really am. It coincides with my cleaning schedule. For example, I clean the bathrooms on Saturday, so I wash the household towels on Saturday. Please note that I am not an accomplished housekeeper, so I might not actually get to the cleaning part, other than the bare minimum. But we always need clean towels, so I stay on top of laundry, for the most part.
The thing I like about having a schedule - a day for each type of laundry - is that it's easy to play catch up if you slack off for a couple of days. You can just do two days of laundry until you catch back up to the right day and you don't have to stop and figure out where to begin. If you think up a logical schedule for your family it's very easy to memorize. For example, I do Nicknack's laundry before I do whites because his laundry is sure to contain whites that need a little bleach treatment.
Here is our schedule:
Monday - I wash Penn's work darks, which are polos and khakis only. His work week starts on Tuesday, so he has a closet full of fresh work clothing on Tuesday morning, rather than a bunch of empty hangers with only his least favorite polos hanging there. This is the only day I actually do any sorting. I dump out the whole dark hamper, pull out his work clothing, and put the rest back in the hamper. I know that if I tried to make Penn a "work darks" hamper he'd put polos in the regular dark hamper (hey, they're dark!) and his socks in the work hamper (hey, he wears them to work!). So for the sake of simplicity, I break my sort-as-you-go rule.
Tuesday - I wash the rest of our darks (Penn's and mine). This sometimes takes two loads.
Wednesday - I wash Nicknack's laundry. I pull out the things that need bleach treatment and toss them into that stain/bleach basket and pull out the things from the basket that are his that are stained and treat them before tossing them in with the rest of the load.
When the baby is born she'll get her own load on this day, too, separate from Nicknack. Boy clothes tend to be dark-colored, girl clothes tend to be pastel/bright. Also, it's easiest to put clothes away when they stay separate throughout the laundering process. You don't have to run from room to room, you can just take the whole folded basket in and put it all away in the same place.
Thursday - I wash whites, including Nicknack's shirts that needed a little bleach spot treatment. I'm petrified of ruining non-white items with bleach, so I like to have a whole separate day for whites, without any other laundry in the vicinity of the laundry room. Speaking of whites, I keep a "mateless sock" basket in our closet for all the stray socks and I sort through it every time our sock supply seems mysteriously low.
Friday - the day I clean my kitchen thoroughly, I also wash the kitchen linens. I keep them separate from the household towels so I can add bleach.
Saturday - I wash towels. This usually takes two loads, although I don't know why since we all use our towels twice.
Sunday - I wash our sheets. I love to start the week with fresh sheets and I strategically schedule this for Penn's day off so that I can enlist his help in remaking the bed. I HATE dressing the bed.
By the way, we only have one set of sheets per bed (other than crib sheets). I hate folding sheets, especially fitted sheets. So I just strip the bed, wash the sheets/bedding, dry the sheets/bedding, and put it all right back on the bed. It just seems like an extra and unnecessary step to put a different set of sheets on the bed, which would require folding when the old sheets come out of the dryer. But that's just my personal preference, since I try to avoid any extra work whenever possible!
One last tip is that I fold everything on our master bed because the height is perfect, there is a ton of room for sorting folded clothing into categories, and the location is so convenient. It's a good place also, because I can lay out the clothes that require hangers so that they don't get wrinkled while I'm folding everything else. Our bedroom is more pleasant and light-filled than our laundry room and I can watch TV while I fold. The only down side to this is that Nicknack likes to climb up on the bed and "help," occasionally messing up some of the folded laundry. But I figure this is why I stay home with him - to spend time together, not to have perfectly folded laundry.
Okay, so that's our laundry system in a (large) nutshell. As you can see, I'm terribly lax about traditional laundry rules like sorting by color, pre-treating, reading a garment's care label, etc. But I'm pretty emphatic about pre-sorting and folding at the ding. Just because both things prevent a greater deal of work later. It's a system that works for us, as evidenced by the fact that I'm on schedule with our laundry as I type this AND I don't dread laundry, which I used to when I tried to do several loads at once or didn't have everything in a continuous state of "already-sorted."
Back to School
No, not Nicknack. Penn, of all people.
Penn has been trying to find a job comparable to the one he currently has for over a year now. We've known for many years that, although Seattle is a lovely city, we don't want to raise our family in a city. No offense if you do! :) We're just over it.
The problem has been that Penn has one of those needle-in-a-haystack kind of jobs. They're out there, just not anywhere in the Pacific Northwest. He's interviewed here and there. In places like Connecticut, Manhattan/Long Island, Chicago, the Silicon Valley, Vail/Aspen, etc. Places where either: a) we can't afford to purchase a home, b) we would be moving way too far away from our families, or c) we wouldn't be moving to the small-town-environment we desire. Or all of the above.
The other problem is that as Penn looks around at other opportunities he realizes that the 55-60 hours he works each week is pretty much the norm in his line of work. He works strange hours and has strange days off. And his schedule changes from week to week - he can't ever commit to anything ahead-of-time, unless it falls on a Sunday. And only then because he has INSISTED, much to his employer's chagrin, that he always has that one day off. Getting time for vacation is like pulling teeth. Last year we his boss wasn't able to commit to his vacation dates until less than two weeks before-hand. The two places we most wanted to visit were booked solid.
None of this is a big problem with very little ones at home. It's easy to be super flexible. Penn spends his time w/Nicknack in the mornings, rather than the evenings. Nicknack doesn't have a school schedule, so it doesn't matter that Daddy works most Saturdays and is home most Mondays. Or that at the last minute we have to cancel some plan or the other because Penn's employer's schedule has changed.
All of this will become problematic when Nicknack starts school. When he starts activities like Boy Scouts and tennis, or even things like Parent-Teacher conferences or school concerts. With Penn's schedule, he would rarely, if ever, be able to participate in any of those things. And I know that would kill him. Nicknack is his world.
So, after a few months of tossing around the idea, we have a new plan, and one that is a drastic change for all of us. Penn is going back to college to become a teacher. Probably a PE/health teacher.
He attended one year of college as an eighteen year old, but dropped out to take a job promotion. He was one of those people who worked full-time all through high school and his freshman year, so he never got much out of school.
Because the program he'll be entering takes five years, he'll still need more than a year at our local community college. So we signed him up for courses and he started last week. He has a major math phobia, so I think these first few quarters will be the most difficult for him. He's had to swallow his pride and go in and take the placement tests alongside sixteen year old "running start" high school students. He's also learning about the frustrating inefficiency of most college registration processes. He's been to campus this week on three separate occasions to pick up packets and books that have been added at the last minute to his course lists. Luckily, he's taking his courses online, so other than a few proctored exams, he can work at his leisure at home. I'm his trusty "secretary," getting him organized with to do lists for the weeks. I'll also be his personal proofreader/editor. I love school so much I wish I could just take his classes for him. I'm kind of jealous, even I've already taken the exact same classes before.
In about eighteen months Penn will quit his job and we are going to (drumroll, please)... MOVE IN WITH MY PARENTS in their mini-ranch, conveniently located in a small college town about 2 hours from us. They're in the process of building a new house and will convert the three-car garage for us as a small apartment. So we'll be going from our four bedroom home to a two bedroom, one-bath modified garage, using the main house kitchen and laundry room. We'll be snug as bugs!
I realize it's sort of a strange plan. As we were considering this decision and sharing it with those closest to us I kept expecting strong resistance. Something along the lines of, "So let me get this straight. Penn is going to quit his job, so that he can go to school, to make way less than half of his current salary. And your family of four, with two small children, will live in your parents' GARAGE for almost two years?!"
But, surprisingly, everyone seems to think it is a good idea. Especially my Mother (an elementary school counselor) and Step Dad (a retired high school science teacher). Which is good since we'll be invading their home and will need occasional babysitting help. They've given us a good picture of what to expect as future educators, so we aren't going into all this with rose-colored glasses.
The main thing is that Penn wants to have more time with his family. When I eventually go back to work I also plan to teach. So we'll have the same schedules. The same 14 weeks a year off. Since Penn has another 25 years to work, he'll have about 350 weeks of vacation until retirement, rather than 50 weeks. Not to mention 40 hour work weeks, on average - instead of 50, 55, or 60. Also, our family will be covered with better medical and retirement benefits than we currently enjoy. And we can find some little town in the middle of nowhere that needs a PE teacher and make it home.
We won't ever live in that big family dream house I've always imagined us in. We'll probably live in a shoebox. And the new minivan we planned to buy this fall is out. Ah well, cars are depreciating assets anyway. We'll never get to take impressive vacations. We're envisioning ourselves criss-crossing the country with some second-hand winnebago in tow. Which sounds amazing. Just think of all the historical sights and beaches and national parks we can visit "on the cheap." We'll have so much more time together that it almost seems ridiculous that we didn't think of this at least five years ago.
I wanted to share this with you so that you know why we've stopped looking for that dream job for Penn. And why the summer-after-next we'll be packing up our lovely home and moving. And why all of a sudden I've become interested in pinching pennies. I figure we'll have to save about two years worth of living expenses (utilities, health insurance, clothing for the kids, grocery money, gas, car/life insurance, tuition & books, etc.) in the next 18 months. Yikes.
But that's the plan and I'm really excited!!
Penn has been trying to find a job comparable to the one he currently has for over a year now. We've known for many years that, although Seattle is a lovely city, we don't want to raise our family in a city. No offense if you do! :) We're just over it.
The problem has been that Penn has one of those needle-in-a-haystack kind of jobs. They're out there, just not anywhere in the Pacific Northwest. He's interviewed here and there. In places like Connecticut, Manhattan/Long Island, Chicago, the Silicon Valley, Vail/Aspen, etc. Places where either: a) we can't afford to purchase a home, b) we would be moving way too far away from our families, or c) we wouldn't be moving to the small-town-environment we desire. Or all of the above.
The other problem is that as Penn looks around at other opportunities he realizes that the 55-60 hours he works each week is pretty much the norm in his line of work. He works strange hours and has strange days off. And his schedule changes from week to week - he can't ever commit to anything ahead-of-time, unless it falls on a Sunday. And only then because he has INSISTED, much to his employer's chagrin, that he always has that one day off. Getting time for vacation is like pulling teeth. Last year we his boss wasn't able to commit to his vacation dates until less than two weeks before-hand. The two places we most wanted to visit were booked solid.
None of this is a big problem with very little ones at home. It's easy to be super flexible. Penn spends his time w/Nicknack in the mornings, rather than the evenings. Nicknack doesn't have a school schedule, so it doesn't matter that Daddy works most Saturdays and is home most Mondays. Or that at the last minute we have to cancel some plan or the other because Penn's employer's schedule has changed.
All of this will become problematic when Nicknack starts school. When he starts activities like Boy Scouts and tennis, or even things like Parent-Teacher conferences or school concerts. With Penn's schedule, he would rarely, if ever, be able to participate in any of those things. And I know that would kill him. Nicknack is his world.
So, after a few months of tossing around the idea, we have a new plan, and one that is a drastic change for all of us. Penn is going back to college to become a teacher. Probably a PE/health teacher.
He attended one year of college as an eighteen year old, but dropped out to take a job promotion. He was one of those people who worked full-time all through high school and his freshman year, so he never got much out of school.
Because the program he'll be entering takes five years, he'll still need more than a year at our local community college. So we signed him up for courses and he started last week. He has a major math phobia, so I think these first few quarters will be the most difficult for him. He's had to swallow his pride and go in and take the placement tests alongside sixteen year old "running start" high school students. He's also learning about the frustrating inefficiency of most college registration processes. He's been to campus this week on three separate occasions to pick up packets and books that have been added at the last minute to his course lists. Luckily, he's taking his courses online, so other than a few proctored exams, he can work at his leisure at home. I'm his trusty "secretary," getting him organized with to do lists for the weeks. I'll also be his personal proofreader/editor. I love school so much I wish I could just take his classes for him. I'm kind of jealous, even I've already taken the exact same classes before.
In about eighteen months Penn will quit his job and we are going to (drumroll, please)... MOVE IN WITH MY PARENTS in their mini-ranch, conveniently located in a small college town about 2 hours from us. They're in the process of building a new house and will convert the three-car garage for us as a small apartment. So we'll be going from our four bedroom home to a two bedroom, one-bath modified garage, using the main house kitchen and laundry room. We'll be snug as bugs!
I realize it's sort of a strange plan. As we were considering this decision and sharing it with those closest to us I kept expecting strong resistance. Something along the lines of, "So let me get this straight. Penn is going to quit his job, so that he can go to school, to make way less than half of his current salary. And your family of four, with two small children, will live in your parents' GARAGE for almost two years?!"
But, surprisingly, everyone seems to think it is a good idea. Especially my Mother (an elementary school counselor) and Step Dad (a retired high school science teacher). Which is good since we'll be invading their home and will need occasional babysitting help. They've given us a good picture of what to expect as future educators, so we aren't going into all this with rose-colored glasses.
The main thing is that Penn wants to have more time with his family. When I eventually go back to work I also plan to teach. So we'll have the same schedules. The same 14 weeks a year off. Since Penn has another 25 years to work, he'll have about 350 weeks of vacation until retirement, rather than 50 weeks. Not to mention 40 hour work weeks, on average - instead of 50, 55, or 60. Also, our family will be covered with better medical and retirement benefits than we currently enjoy. And we can find some little town in the middle of nowhere that needs a PE teacher and make it home.
We won't ever live in that big family dream house I've always imagined us in. We'll probably live in a shoebox. And the new minivan we planned to buy this fall is out. Ah well, cars are depreciating assets anyway. We'll never get to take impressive vacations. We're envisioning ourselves criss-crossing the country with some second-hand winnebago in tow. Which sounds amazing. Just think of all the historical sights and beaches and national parks we can visit "on the cheap." We'll have so much more time together that it almost seems ridiculous that we didn't think of this at least five years ago.
I wanted to share this with you so that you know why we've stopped looking for that dream job for Penn. And why the summer-after-next we'll be packing up our lovely home and moving. And why all of a sudden I've become interested in pinching pennies. I figure we'll have to save about two years worth of living expenses (utilities, health insurance, clothing for the kids, grocery money, gas, car/life insurance, tuition & books, etc.) in the next 18 months. Yikes.
But that's the plan and I'm really excited!!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Have I mentioned that our baby is a girl?
I don't think I have. Oops.
We decided not to find out with Nicknack and that was really fun. I would strongly recommend being surprised with at least one pregnancy. But we both felt differently this time around and decided to "peek."
With Nicknack, even though we never officially found out, I always felt he was a boy, and told everyone so. This time I had a hunch it was a girl, but not so strongly. And I didn't breathe a word of my suspicions, because I didn't want to get up Penn or my mother's hopes. (Both were not so secretly rooting for a girl.) But I did write down the word "girl" on a pink sticky note and hid it in my pocket the morning of the ultrasound.
The technician asked us if we'd like to know the gender. She said she'd gotten a good look at textbook "parts" and could tell us with certainty whether Nicknack would have a little brother or sister. Even though I was guessing girl it still took my breath when she said "It's a... girl!"
I immediately pulled out my sticky note and showed it triumphantly to Penn, just because I like to be right. Don't we all?
I am excited to report that this baby is already demonstrating her sass. At our first, very early ultrasound, she did a funny, jerky little body wiggle throughout the exam. At our other ultrasound (when we got to know her gender), she had her fingers wrapped around her toes, in a pike position. It was very impressive! Maybe she'll want to be a gymnast or a competitive diver someday.
Everyone is very excited to welcome a baby girl into our little family. Nicknack calls her babysister, with the emphasis on the "baby" part, like the word babysitter. He has only the most vague understanding that there is a baby in mama's tummy, but he likes to pat my ever-increasing midsection. At a recent family get together he heard someone mention the baby, ran over, and tried to pull up my blouse to show off the baby. I didn't really go for that.
I have the same lumpy shape that I had with Nicknack, where all my pre-baby fat has been pushed up between the bottom of my brassiere and the actual baby bump. So I have more of a barrel shape than the nice basketball look that a more slender expectant mother typically sports.
It's really not cute and I have no idea if people can tell that I'm expecting or if they think I just carry a lot of weight around my middle. I'm guessing the latter because at last week's dental exam no one in the office realized I was 30 weeks pregnant, despite the obvious maternity shirt and aforementioned protruding tummy. Okaaaay.
So she's a girl. Please feel free to suggest any names that you don't mind someone stealing. So far our three favorites are Elisabeth (nickname Betsy), Kendall (Penn's fave), and Talbot (my favorite girl name since I was about 18).
I don't think I have. Oops.
We decided not to find out with Nicknack and that was really fun. I would strongly recommend being surprised with at least one pregnancy. But we both felt differently this time around and decided to "peek."
With Nicknack, even though we never officially found out, I always felt he was a boy, and told everyone so. This time I had a hunch it was a girl, but not so strongly. And I didn't breathe a word of my suspicions, because I didn't want to get up Penn or my mother's hopes. (Both were not so secretly rooting for a girl.) But I did write down the word "girl" on a pink sticky note and hid it in my pocket the morning of the ultrasound.
The technician asked us if we'd like to know the gender. She said she'd gotten a good look at textbook "parts" and could tell us with certainty whether Nicknack would have a little brother or sister. Even though I was guessing girl it still took my breath when she said "It's a... girl!"
I immediately pulled out my sticky note and showed it triumphantly to Penn, just because I like to be right. Don't we all?
I am excited to report that this baby is already demonstrating her sass. At our first, very early ultrasound, she did a funny, jerky little body wiggle throughout the exam. At our other ultrasound (when we got to know her gender), she had her fingers wrapped around her toes, in a pike position. It was very impressive! Maybe she'll want to be a gymnast or a competitive diver someday.
Everyone is very excited to welcome a baby girl into our little family. Nicknack calls her babysister, with the emphasis on the "baby" part, like the word babysitter. He has only the most vague understanding that there is a baby in mama's tummy, but he likes to pat my ever-increasing midsection. At a recent family get together he heard someone mention the baby, ran over, and tried to pull up my blouse to show off the baby. I didn't really go for that.
I have the same lumpy shape that I had with Nicknack, where all my pre-baby fat has been pushed up between the bottom of my brassiere and the actual baby bump. So I have more of a barrel shape than the nice basketball look that a more slender expectant mother typically sports.
It's really not cute and I have no idea if people can tell that I'm expecting or if they think I just carry a lot of weight around my middle. I'm guessing the latter because at last week's dental exam no one in the office realized I was 30 weeks pregnant, despite the obvious maternity shirt and aforementioned protruding tummy. Okaaaay.
So she's a girl. Please feel free to suggest any names that you don't mind someone stealing. So far our three favorites are Elisabeth (nickname Betsy), Kendall (Penn's fave), and Talbot (my favorite girl name since I was about 18).
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Preschool Saga: Day Two
Today was Nicknack's second day of preschool. And probably his last day, at least for a while.
We dropped him off this morning, watching and waiting to see how he would do. Things seemed better. Instead of obsessing over the one station, like on Monday, he flitted from station to station, stopping to interact with others. Also, several other children threw tantrums for various reasons, which made us feel like he was doing pretty well, in comparison. After ten minutes we realized we were the only parents still lingering and drove to a nearby cafe for breakfast.
As we waited for our meal we discussed this whole preschool thing. We both feel that if he isn't emotionally ready, who cares? We agreed that it is probably too much for him. He's so... emotional these days. But if things went smoothly today and next week, we decided we'd probably keep him in the class.
About fifteen minutes into our omelets the director of the preschool, our Pastor's lovely wife, telephoned. (She is so cute and from Ireland, so she has the neatest accent in the world.) Nicknack was having problems transitioning from one activity to the next and had become inconsolable over the gentle suggestion that he join in on some group activity or another. He was eventually brought down to play with toys in the office. And he was asking for me.
So we had our breakfasts boxed up and made a beeline back to our church.
We discussed the situation with Mrs. B and she suggested we try one more day. If he didn't adjust they would save a spot for him and we could try again next month or in January or next year.
Honestly, I don't think we'll even try one more day.
Before class started, we got there a few minutes early and had to wait, resulting in a meltdown. Oh, and then there was the tantrum this morning while I tried to get him ready for school because he wanted to go out the door to see his friend (whom he was looking all over the house for - although she's never even been in our home) right that VERY second. Then there was the huge fit when he realized we were leaving school and not taking him out to the playground. We felt as if we are torturing him with all these emotional ups and downs. The whole way home he was calling out his friend's name and begging us to take him back to the playground. (We couldn't because it was the four-year-old class outdoor time.) I sat in the front seat trying not to cry along with him. He was just SO upset and disappointed. He loves the people and the environment. Just not the actual "school" part.
Let's face it. He's not ready for preschool! It's just too much for him to handle. I don't want to put him through this even one time more.
He'll still get to play in that same classroom, with the same toys, with many of the same kids, and on that same playground twice a week - on my ladies' Bible study day and on Sundays, while we're at church.
So that's that. I just need to call Mrs. B and e-mail my friend, his teacher, to let them know what we've decided.
I feel kind of silly because I got so excited about this whole preschool thing. To let you know how worthwhile I thought it would be? I actually IRONED. Let me let that statement sink in.
I haven't used my iron in a few years, probably. At least. In fact, I didn't even know that I didn't have an ironing board until my mother visited last year and needed one. (She went out and bought one for us.) I've always felt that life is just too short to iron. I try very hard to pull our clothes out of the dryer when the buzzer rings and fold them or hang them and put them away right away. To avoid ironing. And if I don't, I "fluff" them in the dryer with a wet washcloth. Terribly environmentally unfriendly, I know. I'm trying to break the habit by being extremely diligent about the immediate folding/hanging policy.
But on Sunday night I actually ironed Nicholas's outfits for the week! It took me well over an hour to iron three little t-shirts, button down shirts, and pairs of pants.
But one thing is for sure. He may be a preschool drop out, but he looked so darn cute these past few days that I could hardly stand it.
We dropped him off this morning, watching and waiting to see how he would do. Things seemed better. Instead of obsessing over the one station, like on Monday, he flitted from station to station, stopping to interact with others. Also, several other children threw tantrums for various reasons, which made us feel like he was doing pretty well, in comparison. After ten minutes we realized we were the only parents still lingering and drove to a nearby cafe for breakfast.
As we waited for our meal we discussed this whole preschool thing. We both feel that if he isn't emotionally ready, who cares? We agreed that it is probably too much for him. He's so... emotional these days. But if things went smoothly today and next week, we decided we'd probably keep him in the class.
About fifteen minutes into our omelets the director of the preschool, our Pastor's lovely wife, telephoned. (She is so cute and from Ireland, so she has the neatest accent in the world.) Nicknack was having problems transitioning from one activity to the next and had become inconsolable over the gentle suggestion that he join in on some group activity or another. He was eventually brought down to play with toys in the office. And he was asking for me.
So we had our breakfasts boxed up and made a beeline back to our church.
We discussed the situation with Mrs. B and she suggested we try one more day. If he didn't adjust they would save a spot for him and we could try again next month or in January or next year.
Honestly, I don't think we'll even try one more day.
Before class started, we got there a few minutes early and had to wait, resulting in a meltdown. Oh, and then there was the tantrum this morning while I tried to get him ready for school because he wanted to go out the door to see his friend (whom he was looking all over the house for - although she's never even been in our home) right that VERY second. Then there was the huge fit when he realized we were leaving school and not taking him out to the playground. We felt as if we are torturing him with all these emotional ups and downs. The whole way home he was calling out his friend's name and begging us to take him back to the playground. (We couldn't because it was the four-year-old class outdoor time.) I sat in the front seat trying not to cry along with him. He was just SO upset and disappointed. He loves the people and the environment. Just not the actual "school" part.
Let's face it. He's not ready for preschool! It's just too much for him to handle. I don't want to put him through this even one time more.
He'll still get to play in that same classroom, with the same toys, with many of the same kids, and on that same playground twice a week - on my ladies' Bible study day and on Sundays, while we're at church.
So that's that. I just need to call Mrs. B and e-mail my friend, his teacher, to let them know what we've decided.
I feel kind of silly because I got so excited about this whole preschool thing. To let you know how worthwhile I thought it would be? I actually IRONED. Let me let that statement sink in.
I haven't used my iron in a few years, probably. At least. In fact, I didn't even know that I didn't have an ironing board until my mother visited last year and needed one. (She went out and bought one for us.) I've always felt that life is just too short to iron. I try very hard to pull our clothes out of the dryer when the buzzer rings and fold them or hang them and put them away right away. To avoid ironing. And if I don't, I "fluff" them in the dryer with a wet washcloth. Terribly environmentally unfriendly, I know. I'm trying to break the habit by being extremely diligent about the immediate folding/hanging policy.
But on Sunday night I actually ironed Nicholas's outfits for the week! It took me well over an hour to iron three little t-shirts, button down shirts, and pairs of pants.
But one thing is for sure. He may be a preschool drop out, but he looked so darn cute these past few days that I could hardly stand it.
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