I have been struck many times over the years by the simple fact that life is hard. Sometimes I internally kick and scream at the injustice of it all (why does it have to be so hard, after all?) and sometimes I just accept it for what it is, resigned to plod along with my head down in an effort to not give up. But when the idea of enduring to the end joyfully was suggested to me a few years back in an LDS general conference, I was forced to re-think things. Apparently, it is not enough just to endure life; rather, we are expected to endure it joyfully.
This past Christmas I was given a decorative tile that displays the words, "Find Joy in the Journey." When I received the gift, I thought it was odd that the word 'Find' was the largest word of the quote. I figured that whoever had designed it hadn't been thinking things through properly. Obviously the words 'Joy' and 'Journey' were the most important, right? The word 'Find' was just a lead-in to the main idea of the quote.
Over the past few days, however, I have come to realize the significance of the word 'Find' in the quote I see every day on my counter. It's an important word because it's extremely difficult to do. Finding joy in the journey takes a whole lot of work. Our journeys don't always seem joyful, and it's not usually easy to recognize the joyful bits amongst the overwhelming percentage of horrible, or even just mediocre, bits. Even if the joy is there, you have to put forth the effort to see and appreciate it.
As a mom, it is so easy to see how many things I did not accomplish at the end of each day, while still registering the fact that I am completely physically spent. How is it possible that I was moving all day and didn't accomplish anything other than feeding my kids and keeping them from killing either themselves (in Caboose's case) or each other (in Bright and Plucky's case). How am I supposed to look back at a day like that and find joy in it?
I suppose the answer is that some days, I'm not. There will be days that are not joyful and so many moments that are not sublime. But it's so very important to resist the temptation to put your head down and plod along without looking up. Because it's only when you are holding your head up and paying attention that you will be able to recognize the joyful moments when they come and therefore find joy in the journey.
Therefore, this week I will renew my efforts to lift up my head and search for the joy in each day. And more importantly, when I find it, I will let the other bits of the day fade into the background so that Joy can become my main focus.
Five Kids
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
The Perpetual Button Pushers
As the oldest of six children, I had the the privilege of honing my babysitting skills at an early age. I was lucky enough to have four brothers, one of whom was a Master Button Pusher. You know, the one who incessantly pushes the buttons that really tick someone else off? It's quite an art, really, as the buttons vary from person to person. But Brother #1, as we'll call him, was an expert at knowing exactly what to say to push someone over the edge.
Brother #2 is a bit of a hothead, and always reached his boiling point a good deal faster than the rest of us. Therefore, when you put Brothers #1 and #2 together, a fun time can be guaranteed for all. Especially their babysitter, who, incidentally, was usually me.
I still remember one especially momentous day of babysitting when Brother #1 pushed a little too hard and Brother #2, in his anger, ran into the kitchen and pulled a butcher knife from the knife block. Now, my mother likes to keep her knives especially dull so perhaps I shouldn't have been too worried, but as a fourteen-year-old girl faced with a raging, knife-wielding, stocky, nine-year old boy, I was sufficiently terrified.
Brother #1, however, remained cool and confident and continued mercilessly hounding angry Brother #2, all while dancing just out of reach of the knife. I was hollering hysterically in the background, begging for them to stop fighting. I felt rather like a terrified matador, hiding behind the dancing red cape (Brother #1), waiting for the angry bull (Brother #2) to charge.
Unfortunately, I don't recall the end of the story or how we diffused the situation, though I do know that no blood was spilled that day. I'm also certain that the red cape did not take a very long break before coming out to play again.
While I use my brother as an example, I feel compelled to admit that he was not the only button pusher in the family. I recall engaging in my own form of button pushing from time to time, though I always stopped before knives became involved. For example, I used to love sticking pieces of scotch tape to my baby sister's fingers. I would then step back and watch in amusement as her frustration level grew the longer she spent trying to get the tape off. Each time she pulled it off with one hand, it became stuck to the other. The cycle continued until she was red in the face, shaking her hands in a futile attempt to get the tape off and screaming in frustration, while I was rolling in laughter on the floor. She was just so cute when she got mad, I simply couldn't resist!
As I grew older, I came to believe that these were isolated incidents, unique to my own family. We were just bad kids, right?
Now, years later and much to my chagrin, I see the same thing happening with my own children. We have several button pushers in our family, and one who particularly enjoys pushing his mother's buttons as well as his younger siblings'.
And though it is always upsetting when a button pusher is feeling particularly vicious, I recently noticed an important detail I had previously overlooked: The roles of 'pusher' and 'pushed' seem to rotate over time, at least in my own little family. There was a time when we had two sets of best friends living in our home and, though life was not always harmonious, I had high hopes that the button pushing gene was slowly slipping into dormancy.
I don't believe it was the addition of Caboose to our family that sparked the faction now existing among the previous Besties, but rather the natural changes that occur over time. As Energy moved into a level of maturity beyond Mellow's, for example, the tension rose. The same is happening with Bright and Plucky. I now see Mellow and Bright becoming fast friends while the outliers on either end are struggling to find a place to fit in. And Plucky is overjoyed that Caboose is now old enough to be the 'pushed', allowing her to fill the role of 'pusher' for the first time in her life. Poor little Caboose--he will have to get creative as he grows if he's ever going to have a shot at being the pusher.
The good news is that it won't last forever (at least that's what I'm telling myself--please don't burst my bubble if I'm wrong). Hopefully the cycle will run it's course and we will have some more BFFs running around before too long.
Until then, I have come up with some possible reasons for why siblings feel the need to push each others buttons, if for no other purpose than to make me feel better:
Pushing buttons makes one feel important
Watching the face of the tormented is just plain funny
The button pusher enjoys the sense of power
Sometimes, it's just too easy to pass up
It is genetically ingrained in their brains and passed down from one generation to the next
They are jealous
Its a way to show affection, though even the button pusher himself may not realize it
They need attention and pushing buttons is a good way to get it
Throughout the ages, the weak, non-button pushers as a breed are slowly dying out, leaving only the aggressive button pushers to take their places
There's really no good explanation--they do it just because
But here's my favorite and the one I will pretend is true:
They love each other so, so much, but just don't have the words to say it.
Brother #2 is a bit of a hothead, and always reached his boiling point a good deal faster than the rest of us. Therefore, when you put Brothers #1 and #2 together, a fun time can be guaranteed for all. Especially their babysitter, who, incidentally, was usually me.
I still remember one especially momentous day of babysitting when Brother #1 pushed a little too hard and Brother #2, in his anger, ran into the kitchen and pulled a butcher knife from the knife block. Now, my mother likes to keep her knives especially dull so perhaps I shouldn't have been too worried, but as a fourteen-year-old girl faced with a raging, knife-wielding, stocky, nine-year old boy, I was sufficiently terrified.
Brother #1, however, remained cool and confident and continued mercilessly hounding angry Brother #2, all while dancing just out of reach of the knife. I was hollering hysterically in the background, begging for them to stop fighting. I felt rather like a terrified matador, hiding behind the dancing red cape (Brother #1), waiting for the angry bull (Brother #2) to charge.
Unfortunately, I don't recall the end of the story or how we diffused the situation, though I do know that no blood was spilled that day. I'm also certain that the red cape did not take a very long break before coming out to play again.
While I use my brother as an example, I feel compelled to admit that he was not the only button pusher in the family. I recall engaging in my own form of button pushing from time to time, though I always stopped before knives became involved. For example, I used to love sticking pieces of scotch tape to my baby sister's fingers. I would then step back and watch in amusement as her frustration level grew the longer she spent trying to get the tape off. Each time she pulled it off with one hand, it became stuck to the other. The cycle continued until she was red in the face, shaking her hands in a futile attempt to get the tape off and screaming in frustration, while I was rolling in laughter on the floor. She was just so cute when she got mad, I simply couldn't resist!
As I grew older, I came to believe that these were isolated incidents, unique to my own family. We were just bad kids, right?
Now, years later and much to my chagrin, I see the same thing happening with my own children. We have several button pushers in our family, and one who particularly enjoys pushing his mother's buttons as well as his younger siblings'.
And though it is always upsetting when a button pusher is feeling particularly vicious, I recently noticed an important detail I had previously overlooked: The roles of 'pusher' and 'pushed' seem to rotate over time, at least in my own little family. There was a time when we had two sets of best friends living in our home and, though life was not always harmonious, I had high hopes that the button pushing gene was slowly slipping into dormancy.
I don't believe it was the addition of Caboose to our family that sparked the faction now existing among the previous Besties, but rather the natural changes that occur over time. As Energy moved into a level of maturity beyond Mellow's, for example, the tension rose. The same is happening with Bright and Plucky. I now see Mellow and Bright becoming fast friends while the outliers on either end are struggling to find a place to fit in. And Plucky is overjoyed that Caboose is now old enough to be the 'pushed', allowing her to fill the role of 'pusher' for the first time in her life. Poor little Caboose--he will have to get creative as he grows if he's ever going to have a shot at being the pusher.
The good news is that it won't last forever (at least that's what I'm telling myself--please don't burst my bubble if I'm wrong). Hopefully the cycle will run it's course and we will have some more BFFs running around before too long.
Until then, I have come up with some possible reasons for why siblings feel the need to push each others buttons, if for no other purpose than to make me feel better:
Pushing buttons makes one feel important
Watching the face of the tormented is just plain funny
The button pusher enjoys the sense of power
Sometimes, it's just too easy to pass up
It is genetically ingrained in their brains and passed down from one generation to the next
They are jealous
Its a way to show affection, though even the button pusher himself may not realize it
They need attention and pushing buttons is a good way to get it
Throughout the ages, the weak, non-button pushers as a breed are slowly dying out, leaving only the aggressive button pushers to take their places
There's really no good explanation--they do it just because
But here's my favorite and the one I will pretend is true:
They love each other so, so much, but just don't have the words to say it.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
My Chocolate Break-Up
This week our family sat down and set some goals regarding our health habits. I have known for quite a while that we could do better and the new year was a perfect time to start. Each of the kids made some resolutions and we decided, as a family, to eat our favorite fruits in place of dessert for a while, and do a better job of getting out and being active. I also agreed to go on the Take Shape for Life program with my husband and we started it on Monday of this week. The week has gone well and, though I am not missing the five pounds I have already shed (don't worry--they say it's all water weight the first week) I most certainly AM missing my chocolate.
Yes, a melancholy has settled over my every thought and action and I can only ascribe it to the fact that I have sworn off my usual escape for at least the next two months. In general, I don't consider myself the type to overindulge, though I must admit I most certainly did on the Christmas fudge this year. Normally, I am able to have a little treat every now and then and call it good. But now it's time for Chocolate and I to take a break from each other, at least for a while.
Now that my chocolate escape option has been removed, however, I am simply dying to have it back. So, to appease the part of me that is now crying out for it, I have chosen to escape through my words instead. I have composed a little Ode to express my love for the forbidden vice:
Yes, a melancholy has settled over my every thought and action and I can only ascribe it to the fact that I have sworn off my usual escape for at least the next two months. In general, I don't consider myself the type to overindulge, though I must admit I most certainly did on the Christmas fudge this year. Normally, I am able to have a little treat every now and then and call it good. But now it's time for Chocolate and I to take a break from each other, at least for a while.
Now that my chocolate escape option has been removed, however, I am simply dying to have it back. So, to appease the part of me that is now crying out for it, I have chosen to escape through my words instead. I have composed a little Ode to express my love for the forbidden vice:
Ode To Chocolate
Oh Chocolate, how I love thee;
Please let me count the ways.
You cheer me up and make me smile
When I've had a rotten day.
When I'm worn out in the kitchen
Making dinner for my brood,
A couple bites is all I need
To make me feel brand new.
To eat you in the morning
Requires some finesse.
Chocolate morsels on my pancakes
Is what I like the best.
Whether frozen in a frosty,
Or warmed for hot cocoa.
Or melted in a cookie
Or melted in a cookie
From the oven cooked just so.
I love you every way you come.
I just can't get enough.
I feel whole when you're with me;
You're my forbidden love.
After writing that I must admit that I do actually feel better, though a warm chocolate chip cookie sure does sound good right now. Chocolate, I bid you adieu... until we meet again.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
I SO Need a Time Turner - Part 2
Almost a week has passed since I wrote my last post on needing a time turner and since then I have made an amazing discovery. In fact, I may have found my own little time turner and it's simpler than I had originally thought.
My time turner is, in fact, time itself.
Confused? Let me elaborate. Last week when I posted about all my lofty goals and how there was no time in which to do them, I was feeling quite defeated. We had just come home from an eleven-day vacation and the day was full of unpacking, laundry and grocery shopping (all of which fall under the 'essential' category when you get home from a long trip). Add to that the Christmas clean-up (including tree, ornaments, decorations and helping my kids find homes for all their new things) and you can see why I didn't get to any of my resolutions that day.
Over the past week, however, time has passed and I have slowly gotten caught up on all the household duties. Christmas is packed away, waiting until next year. We have re-organized bedrooms to accommodate new things. I finally tackled the pile of mail and odd jobs that have been sitting on the counter since before Christmas. I have gotten a decent amount of sleep (meaning at least 6 hours--I still have to be realistic) for three nights in a row. And yesterday I was finally able to sit down and do something just for me (yes, I watched Downton Abbey on pbs.org since I missed it on Sunday).
My takeaway from the week is this: there is enough time to do lots of different things, just not usually in the same day. It's the same thing I had to realize as a new mom with a couple of tiny kids running around--the idea that you can have it all, just not at the same time. It's very difficult to pursue your dreams when you are up to your eyeballs in babies. But those babies grow up, they become more independent, and there will be a season when you can again chase your dreams.
Applying this same concept to my week has been very helpful. You might even say it has been my own personal time turner. Of course, I'm not saying that I now expect to be able to do everything I want to do. There will always be sacrifices that must be made in order to be a good mom. But if I can remember that, at some point, there will be time for whatever it is I'm dying to do right now, then it will be easier to delay that desire to another day if needed.
So it seems that the secret to turning time is as simple as just letting time turn and being patient. Who knew?
My time turner is, in fact, time itself.
Confused? Let me elaborate. Last week when I posted about all my lofty goals and how there was no time in which to do them, I was feeling quite defeated. We had just come home from an eleven-day vacation and the day was full of unpacking, laundry and grocery shopping (all of which fall under the 'essential' category when you get home from a long trip). Add to that the Christmas clean-up (including tree, ornaments, decorations and helping my kids find homes for all their new things) and you can see why I didn't get to any of my resolutions that day.
Over the past week, however, time has passed and I have slowly gotten caught up on all the household duties. Christmas is packed away, waiting until next year. We have re-organized bedrooms to accommodate new things. I finally tackled the pile of mail and odd jobs that have been sitting on the counter since before Christmas. I have gotten a decent amount of sleep (meaning at least 6 hours--I still have to be realistic) for three nights in a row. And yesterday I was finally able to sit down and do something just for me (yes, I watched Downton Abbey on pbs.org since I missed it on Sunday).
My takeaway from the week is this: there is enough time to do lots of different things, just not usually in the same day. It's the same thing I had to realize as a new mom with a couple of tiny kids running around--the idea that you can have it all, just not at the same time. It's very difficult to pursue your dreams when you are up to your eyeballs in babies. But those babies grow up, they become more independent, and there will be a season when you can again chase your dreams.
Applying this same concept to my week has been very helpful. You might even say it has been my own personal time turner. Of course, I'm not saying that I now expect to be able to do everything I want to do. There will always be sacrifices that must be made in order to be a good mom. But if I can remember that, at some point, there will be time for whatever it is I'm dying to do right now, then it will be easier to delay that desire to another day if needed.
So it seems that the secret to turning time is as simple as just letting time turn and being patient. Who knew?
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
I SO need a Time Turner
One down, 364 more to go. Well, I guess it's 363, but today was my first self-recognized day of the new year. We were driving all day yesterday and I can hardly count a day in the car as an opportunity to start a fresh year. In all honesty, I really expected more of myself today, but it was a day spent digging out of the mess left behind from Christmas and travel (in addition to any and all typical mothering duties that might ever be expected of me).
I, like many others, had set several lofty goals for myself this year. I had to, of course, given how much I love setting goals. But maybe I shouldn't have expected to get to them the first day back from vacation. My goals consist of treating my body better by eating healthier, going to bed on time and exercising. Pretty typical, right? I know that my habits affect my whole family and these days, we really seem to be in need of some healthier habits around here. We have decided to bring the kids in on this with us and will be setting some health goals together as a family this weekend.
I have also set some writing goals this year and I am excited to start taking my writing more seriously. But it is already bedtime and my one and only chance to sit down (other than in the drivers seat of the car and that does NOT count) lasted for about 45 minutes while Caboose was napping. The time was mostly spent eating lunch over a book (since I hadn't had time to eat earlier) and when I was done, I was left with about 15 minutes of spare time to crack open my laptop and write a couple of sub-par paragraphs before Energy showed up. He came bounding in from school only to talk my ear off while starting on a project to build a catapult and booby-trap his room (which, incidentally, he succeeded at with very little help from me). Looking back over the day, it seems like a pretty typical one. So, clearly I have overestimated how much time I have during the day to devote to writing and I have to admit I am a little heartbroken.
I've heard it said that writers don't have clean houses. The trouble for me is that I can't think straight when I'm in a cluttered space, so I feel compelled to tidy up before I sit down and write. The quantity of children I have, combined with their aversion to putting things away, leaves me in a bit of a pickle. That's why I often find myself staying up late at night after the days' messes have mostly been put away hunched over my laptop, the sound of the dishwasher pulsing like music to my ears. Hence the reason I haven't been getting enough sleep.
So here we are again--I'm up late and the wheels in my brain are turning. I know I won't be sleeping anytime soon and therefore will not be able to wake up early enough to exercise. My lack of exercise will leave me feeling lethargic, thereby making me more likely to turn to sugar to give me the energy that is not coming from anywhere else. I have come to the conclusion that there are simply not enough hours in the day to take care of five children and do something for myself.
I could really, really use Dumbledore's Time Turner.
Or, if that doesn't work out, I could embrace one of the following options instead:
1. Stop feeding, cleaning up after, and washing clothes for my kids. Then wait and see what happens. How long do you think it would be before Child Services came banging at my door? Additionally, I could stop taking them to their various activities, stop bathing them and stop spending time with them altogether. After all, I had kids so that I could ignore them, right?
2. Send the two little ones to daycare so that I can stay home and write during the day while the older kids are at school. Then make the kids do extra chores each night instead of their homework when they get home from school. Never mind the exorbitant price of day care and the likely insurrection that would result among the troops at having even more chores (they already do quite a bit as it is). Also, I don't really want to miss the last few years I have with my two littlest before they enter the school system.
3. Stop sleeping and exercising and instead use that time to write. This is my typical option of choice, though it is certainly not ideal. I have been employing it for some time now and if I keep it up much longer I will have to size up my wardrobe and hire someone to translate my zombie-like speech so that those who are more well-rested can understand me.
4. Stop writing and doing anything else that gives me pleasure and identity as an individual. (Of course, being a mom gives me great pleasure, but you know what I mean.) It seems to me that this is not any more of a viable option than numbers 1-3, but unfortunately this is what often happens just by default.
So, it looks like we're back to the drawing board. Any great ideas out there?
Just for the record, if you ask me at the end of each day what I did during said day, I can almost never tell you. I have no idea. All I know is that I'm exhausted and I haven't accomplished anything other than maintaining (for the most part), the status quo. Here's an awesome summary I read a few years ago on what a mom does all day, though I think it still needs a few more paragraphs to really be complete.
After pondering on my conundrum for the better part of the afternoon and evening while making dinner and school lunches, folding laundry, and protecting Caboose from Plucky, I came up with one final option:
5. Change my outlook, not my life. Yes, I am busy and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Yes, I would love to be able to set goals that I have the physical capacity for keeping. But rather than focusing on the things I can't change, I need to focus on the one thing I can--my attitude. I can be cranky that I don't have more time to devote to my hobbies and passions, or I can embrace my life as it is and just make things work in the best way I can. This is what I have control over. This is what I can change.
Just in case you're wondering, since it should be clear that I am choosing option 5, that does not mean I am giving up on my new year's resolutions already. (The new year doesn't actually start until the Monday following Jan 1st anyway, right? Mondays are great days for change.) That means I still have four more days to pack Christmas away and calm my mind before making some real changes.
Unless perhaps you know where I could find a time turner...
I, like many others, had set several lofty goals for myself this year. I had to, of course, given how much I love setting goals. But maybe I shouldn't have expected to get to them the first day back from vacation. My goals consist of treating my body better by eating healthier, going to bed on time and exercising. Pretty typical, right? I know that my habits affect my whole family and these days, we really seem to be in need of some healthier habits around here. We have decided to bring the kids in on this with us and will be setting some health goals together as a family this weekend.
I have also set some writing goals this year and I am excited to start taking my writing more seriously. But it is already bedtime and my one and only chance to sit down (other than in the drivers seat of the car and that does NOT count) lasted for about 45 minutes while Caboose was napping. The time was mostly spent eating lunch over a book (since I hadn't had time to eat earlier) and when I was done, I was left with about 15 minutes of spare time to crack open my laptop and write a couple of sub-par paragraphs before Energy showed up. He came bounding in from school only to talk my ear off while starting on a project to build a catapult and booby-trap his room (which, incidentally, he succeeded at with very little help from me). Looking back over the day, it seems like a pretty typical one. So, clearly I have overestimated how much time I have during the day to devote to writing and I have to admit I am a little heartbroken.
I've heard it said that writers don't have clean houses. The trouble for me is that I can't think straight when I'm in a cluttered space, so I feel compelled to tidy up before I sit down and write. The quantity of children I have, combined with their aversion to putting things away, leaves me in a bit of a pickle. That's why I often find myself staying up late at night after the days' messes have mostly been put away hunched over my laptop, the sound of the dishwasher pulsing like music to my ears. Hence the reason I haven't been getting enough sleep.
So here we are again--I'm up late and the wheels in my brain are turning. I know I won't be sleeping anytime soon and therefore will not be able to wake up early enough to exercise. My lack of exercise will leave me feeling lethargic, thereby making me more likely to turn to sugar to give me the energy that is not coming from anywhere else. I have come to the conclusion that there are simply not enough hours in the day to take care of five children and do something for myself.
I could really, really use Dumbledore's Time Turner.
Or, if that doesn't work out, I could embrace one of the following options instead:
1. Stop feeding, cleaning up after, and washing clothes for my kids. Then wait and see what happens. How long do you think it would be before Child Services came banging at my door? Additionally, I could stop taking them to their various activities, stop bathing them and stop spending time with them altogether. After all, I had kids so that I could ignore them, right?
2. Send the two little ones to daycare so that I can stay home and write during the day while the older kids are at school. Then make the kids do extra chores each night instead of their homework when they get home from school. Never mind the exorbitant price of day care and the likely insurrection that would result among the troops at having even more chores (they already do quite a bit as it is). Also, I don't really want to miss the last few years I have with my two littlest before they enter the school system.
3. Stop sleeping and exercising and instead use that time to write. This is my typical option of choice, though it is certainly not ideal. I have been employing it for some time now and if I keep it up much longer I will have to size up my wardrobe and hire someone to translate my zombie-like speech so that those who are more well-rested can understand me.
4. Stop writing and doing anything else that gives me pleasure and identity as an individual. (Of course, being a mom gives me great pleasure, but you know what I mean.) It seems to me that this is not any more of a viable option than numbers 1-3, but unfortunately this is what often happens just by default.
So, it looks like we're back to the drawing board. Any great ideas out there?
Just for the record, if you ask me at the end of each day what I did during said day, I can almost never tell you. I have no idea. All I know is that I'm exhausted and I haven't accomplished anything other than maintaining (for the most part), the status quo. Here's an awesome summary I read a few years ago on what a mom does all day, though I think it still needs a few more paragraphs to really be complete.
After pondering on my conundrum for the better part of the afternoon and evening while making dinner and school lunches, folding laundry, and protecting Caboose from Plucky, I came up with one final option:
5. Change my outlook, not my life. Yes, I am busy and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Yes, I would love to be able to set goals that I have the physical capacity for keeping. But rather than focusing on the things I can't change, I need to focus on the one thing I can--my attitude. I can be cranky that I don't have more time to devote to my hobbies and passions, or I can embrace my life as it is and just make things work in the best way I can. This is what I have control over. This is what I can change.
Just in case you're wondering, since it should be clear that I am choosing option 5, that does not mean I am giving up on my new year's resolutions already. (The new year doesn't actually start until the Monday following Jan 1st anyway, right? Mondays are great days for change.) That means I still have four more days to pack Christmas away and calm my mind before making some real changes.
Unless perhaps you know where I could find a time turner...
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