theclumsyredhead.com

March 29, 2012

What the hell is going on?

Filed under: kids,pop culture — jen @ 9:56 pm

 

I’ve been reading in the news lately about these celebrity moms who are doing some of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard. Have you seen this?

“Celebrity” 1: Alicia Silverstone. First of all, I’ve put the word celebrity in quotes, because she hasn’t done a damn thing since the Aerosmith videos. And really, since that consisted of rolling around and sliding up and down a pole, that makes her as much of a celebrity as one of the c-section scarred moms who dance at the Razzle Dazzle in my hometown. She’s chewing up food and then basically spitting it into her son’s mouth. She’s not regurgitating like a bird. Birds have to do that for their young so they survive. Toddlers can actually eat solid food, and crazy as it may sound, actually need to practice chewing so they won’t wander around as teenagers asking complete strangers to chew up their fruit roll-ups for them for an afternoon snack. Think about it. You’re on a date at a fancy restaurant. You’ve had your eye on this girl for weeks – and you finally got the nerve to ask her out. Now, here she sits, black strapless dress, blonde hair swept across her shoulder, laughing at all your pitiful jokes. The meal finally comes – she takes a bite of her lobster thermidor and you suddenly swoop in and suck the chewed up food out of her mouth. If you think that’s not going to make its way around the office, you’re insane. Good luck getting another date! I don’t even let my kids drink water from my glass – I can’t imagine sucking face with them at cookie time. Because that’s what it is. SUCKING FACE WITH YOUR CHILD. Sick.

Celebrity 2: January Jones. She saved her placenta and had it dried and ground up and made into “vitamins.” She said something like “humans are the only mammals who don’t eat their placenta.” Yep. You’re right. We’re also the only mammals who are capable of abstract thought, making fires to cook our food and using complex tools. Most researchers theorize that animals eat the placenta so they can hide any trace of childbirth from predators in the wild. I know of very few women who wander out to the prairie in this day and age to give birth. And even if they did, I think eating the placenta to hide the childbirth from predators would be the last thing on their mind, since they would have to have lost their mind to do that. Most sane women go to a hospital. Others stay at home with a midwife, or some type of medical professional to help out should something go wrong. And, according to TLC, some women crap a baby out while on the toilet because they didn’t know they were pregnant. Whichever method is chosen, there’s no need to hide the fact that you’ve given birth. Unless of course you’re a teenage girl at the prom. My point, as crass as I may have  sounded, is that there’s a reason we don’t eat our placentas. There’s no health benefit to it. And it’s gross. Your fetus pooped and puked in that thing for nine months, then it shot down your birth canal and out your vagina. No amount of soap can wipe clean that thought. Oh, and since you’re human, you are capable of imagining everything I just said.

Celebrity 3: Mayim Bialik. What the hell, Blossom? You have a PhD and you’re breastfeeding your three year-old? On the subway? I wouldn’t even chew gum on the subway.  Can you imagine a three year-old at preschool, sizing up the poor old grandmotherly-lady who’s handing out milk and cookies? It’s just creepy. If your child can ask for food, it’s time to stop flopping out your boob, okay? Boundaries are good. Kids need them. I’m not against breastfeeding. I didn’t do it, and my kids turned out okay. My friend did, and her kids are okay, too. But she stopped at an appropriate time. You know, before her kid was able to ask for seconds. I don’t think you need a doctorate degree to figure that out.

Look, I’m not the world’s greatest mom. I’m sure my kids will have plenty to tell their therapists in the years to come. But please, celebrity moms, quit trying to start a new fad or get publicity for your next appearance in an REO Speedwagon video. Just. . . try to be normal so you can give your kids a chance to be normal-ish. At the very least, get a good publicist to advise you. You’re all just freaking me out.

January 16, 2011

NYPD Redhead

Filed under: kids — jen @ 9:33 pm

If you’re like me, and chances are, you’re lucky enough NOT to be, you watched way too much t.v. as a kid, so you have a warped way at looking at the world. I can make references to just about any t.v. show ever made. See that blog title up there? I’ve never seen one episode, but I know what it’s about. Okay, so it’s not that difficult to figure out, but still.

Anyhoo, so here’s my story: Jack has recently discovered how to lock a door. He does not, however, know how to unlock a door. You can see where this is going, right? So, last week we were in his room, playing with cars when my coffee kicked in. I sauntered across the hall into the bathroom, leaving Jack in his bedroom to throw his cars from one side of the room to the other (“They go faster that way, Mama!”) and take care of my business. I had turned the doorknob around on his bedroom door so he could  no longer lock himself in, so I had no qualms about leaving him for two minutes.

I heard him close the door to his room (he has a thing about open doors) and run down the hall to my bedroom and slam the door. I finished as quickly as I could and walked down the hall only to discover – that’s right – he had locked the door. Now, not really a big deal, except that we have a spiral staircase with an open loft in our bedroom (very retro, no?) and since my children have been known to fall down from a standing position, I was a bit worried.

“Jack,” I said in a very sing-songy voice. “Jaaa-aack, open the door.” Because he’s somehow learned how to do that in the last 30 seconds, I guess. No response. “Jackie, please open the door for Mama.” Nothing.

“JACK, OPEN THE DOOR,” this was through clenched teeth, not yelling. And then, a sickening thump. The first thing that popped into my mind is that scene from “Almost Famous.” I pictured Jack at the top of the railing on the loft, declaring that he is in fact a golden god and diving onto our lower-end carpet (came with the house) instead of a full swimming pool. Jack can’t swim, so either way, it’s a bad scene. “JACK!” Now, I yelled. No response.

I don’t know how to pick a lock, and even if I did, I don’ think I would have had the presence of mind to go and find something to fit in that stupid little hole and pop it open. I immediately kicked the door open to find, lying in a pool of its own literature, a dictionary. Jack, hands behind his back, glasses low on his nose, was standing up in the loft, looking down at the book he had assaulted.

I didn’t yell at him. I hugged him. I told him I loved him and that if he ever locked a door again, I would take every door in the house off of its hinges, which would be really awkward for him when he hits his teenage years. And then I reflected on how AWESOME it was that I kicked in a door, just like hundreds of t.v. cops have done in almost every cop show ever made. One freaking kick and it was open.

I need help.

October 5, 2010

Quickie

Filed under: kids,Random — jen @ 8:57 pm

It's very hard to find a picture of someone sweeping up popcorn.

Don’t be nasty. I just meant a short post. I’ve been crazy-busy these past few weeks (is it “past” or “passed”? I always get confused on that one) with work, and occasionally taking care of my kids. But I had to share this one-I almost fell out of my chair I laughed so hard.

Tess was having trouble falling asleep, so Max suggested she lay back and play a movie in her head. That’s what we do when we’re trying to appear as though we’re listening to someone, usually each other. Always the quick-thinker, Tess shot back: “I can’t. The man’s in my head sweeping up the popcorn because the movie’s over.”

She’s 5. I’m not that clever and I’ve got 30 years on her.

August 26, 2010

Where the hell have I been?

Filed under: kids,Me — jen @ 9:32 pm

Good question. Let me answer in threefold:

A) Trapped in freelancer hell. That’s right. After 8 months without a steady income, I suddenly received several offers for freelance “writing” jobs. Writing is in quotes because it’s not really writing so much as typing. Typing, copying, pasting and inserting pictures and URLs. I feel like I’m 20 years old again (not in a good way) working in an overly air-conditioned office building (sans the over air-conditioning) just for the ultimate goal: money. I haven’t gotten a paycheck yet for one of the jobs, but when I do, I’m headed straight to Target (I heart Target’s crap) and buying everything I fancy. I might buy stuff I don’t fancy,  just because I can. Why did I take on so much work, you ask? Because I need the money. Money is nice. It doesn’t buy you happiness, but it does buy you time. And stuff.

2) Sobbing quietly because Tess has started kindergarten. I’ve lost my buddy. I know people say “it’s the start of something awesome” but the pessimist/cynic in me knows that it means I’m on my way out as the most important person in her life. Yeah, yeah, she’ll always need her Mommy, but c’mon. Did you whisper secrets in your mom’s ear when you were in 7th grade? No, you didn’t. If you did, you were a total dork who didn’t have a lot of friends. And while that sounds great for mommies, I certainly wouldn’t want my daughter to have to deal with being a dork during her formative years. Not that popularity is the most important thing, but I just remember the “weird” kids when I was in school and I don’t want her to have to deal with douche bag kids who think they’re cool because they have a lot of douche bag friends who are just like them. That can be a lot of douche bags. And we all know about douche bags.

C) Chasing Jack around the house and screaming “NO!” and “STOP IT!” because he has officially hit “the terrible twos.”  Tess didn’t go through that. She’s a mommy/daddy pleaser, whereas Jack is a, “Screw you, Mommy and Daddy, throwing trains down the air vents and hiding food in the couch and in my nose is fun” kind of kid. I have no frame of reference for that. My lack of sleep coupled with my lack of patience means yelling is easier than patiently explaining why putting a Yogo in his nose is not the same as putting it in a bowl for later.

So there you have it. I will try to post more frequently – once a week. Lots of kindergarten stories.  Mostly kindergarten mom stories, because I can’t really be snarky about writing numbers and gluing shit together.

Summer Breeze Martini

6 parts citrus vodka
2 parts melon liqueur
1 part dry vermouth
1/4 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
Melon ball

Combine liquid ingredients in a cocktail shaker with cracked ice and shake well. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with melon ball.

July 8, 2010

Conversations with Jack

Filed under: kids,Martini Recipes — jen @ 9:54 pm

This is pretty much how any given day will go around my house.

Scenario 1: My phone rings, I speak to the person who calls. I hang up.

Jack: Who’s dat?

Me:  Daddy.

Jack: What happen?

Me: He asked me what we are having for dinner.

Jack: Where Daddy go?

Me: Daddy’s at work.

Jack: Daddy bye-bye. Homer on? (Since I’ve made it pretty clear that we’re not the greatest parents, you should know we watch repeats of ”The Simpsons” during dinner, so now he associates Homer with nutrition. Glorious.)

Me: Homer’s not on. It’s not dinnertime.

Jack: Oh. Where Daddy go? (This is asked in succession at least 47 times. Following is my final response.)

Me: Daddy went to Spain today. He’ll be home for dinner. (I choose a different country for each time he asks, for my own amusement.)

Jack: Oh. Okay.

Scenario 2: Changing his diaper.

Me: Oh dear lord, did you poop? You stink.

Jack: Dear lord, no poop.

Me: Are you sure?

Jack: Uuuuummmm, yap. No poop.

Me: Come here, let’s change your diaper and clean up your bottom.

Jack: Uuummm, nope. No bottom. BUTT. (Maniacal laugh.)

As I’m changing him:

Jack: Dear lord, no BOTTOM. BUTT! BUTT! BUTT!

Me: You stink. It’s not butt, it’s bottom.

Jack: NOOOO, you stink. No bottom. BUTT.

This goes on until I have placed the stinky diaper in a bag outside.

Jack: YOU stink.

Scenario 3: Injuring myself in a mishap.

Me: GODDAMMIT! (Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth.)

Jack: Gaah-dahm-eet. (Repeats this over and over while doing any number of random tasks: dragging around Tess’s doll by its hair, smacking the floor with a plastic golf club, sticking raisins in his nose, etc.).

Have a great weekend, Gaah-dahm-eet!

Babyface Martini

6 parts strawberry flavored vodka

1 part dry vermouth

1/2 tsp maraschino liqueur (or cherry juice)

Fresh strawberry

Combine liquid ingredients in a shaker with cracked ice and shake well. Strain into a chilled glass and garnish with strawberry.

June 9, 2010

Inflatable Mayhem

Filed under: kids — jen @ 12:16 pm

12 kids. Giant inflatable toys. Sugar. Let the games begin!

I never thought I’d be one of those moms who plans a big party for her child at some overpriced novelty kids’ party place. Turns out, I am.

Tess recently celebrated her big (pre) ”05″ at an indoor inflatable jump/climb/slide place. I thought it would be great - I didn’t have to do anything, not even watch over the kids because they had people to do that for me. All I had to do was greet the parents’ who dropped off their kids – who left a little too quickly in my book – and hand them over to the lovely staff for 2 hours of wear-them-out-go-to-bed-early fun.

They made the kids watch a safety video first, you know, because a five year-old’s who’s distracted by colorful playthings will certainly pay attention, and then they were ushered into a magical room filled with inflatable castles they could climb in, bounce in and slide down until their little bodies couldn’t take it anymore.

For the most part, it went well. I sat with my sister and a couple of moms who chose to stay and watched the kids squeal and run with delight. We tried to chat, but the loud music playing – you know how the little ones love them some  Jay-Z – made it a little hard to have an intelligible conversation. Mostly we screamed at each other while pretending we could hear what the other was saying and nodded a lot.

It was fun to watch Jack. With his dad’s help, he made it up what had to be an incredibly scary, tall ladder and slid down a giant rubber slide by himself.  At the bottom of the slide he just laid there, stunned, I think. It reminded me of Randy in “A Christmas Story”: Randy lay there like a slug, it was his only defense.

After 45 minutes, the kids were ushered into another room – this one with a rock climbing wall.

Rock climbing

Here's my girl on her way to the top of Mt. Holy Crap They Let Little Kids Do This!

This room was odd. There was a Cozy Coupe car with a broken wheel (2 kids toppled over, only 1 cried). Inflatable houses wherein you had to squeeze through a tiny space only to drop into another tiny space. We lost 1 girl for about 5 minutes in there. She had no idea how to get out. My sister climbed in to save her, bless her heart. Lots of plastic/rubber burns on the kids’ elbows from trying to stop themselves at the bottom of the slides, but no serious injuries to report.

Then it was off for pizza (not included in price of fun), cupcakes (homemade, decorated with my cool frosting tip and placed on a cupcake tree) and presents. The best part was eavesdropping on the kids’ conversations. Lots of serious talk about their respective pets, what they got Tess for her birthday, and the pros and cons of pepperoni pizza.

The inflatable crown was hers to keep. The chair, sadly, was not.

Tess was the perfect little hostess. She played with each child and even helped the smaller ones when they had a hard time climbing around. She passed out the goody bags as her friends left and thanked them all for coming.

And just like that, it was over. The parents started to file in just as Max and I were shoving the uneaten pizza – no teeth marks? Take it! - into a box so we could have it for dinner. (What can I say, I’m cheap.) We loaded the car up with Barbie dolls and toddler make-up (I don’t have that much, jeesh) and headed home. She had a lot of fun and that’s really all that matters. Oh, and the kids went to bed an hour early, so it was totally worth it.

My parties growing up consisted of homemade cakes with hard sugar decorations that you really shouldn’t eat and cousins and the one neighbor girl who smelled funny. There were adults wandering around accidentally popping balloons with their lit cigarettes and then my mom shooing us outside for a little peace and quiet. I remember all of them – I could probably tell you what gifts I got for every single one of them. I hope Tess looks back on her parties as fondly as I do.

May 27, 2010

Sometimes I Forget . . .

Filed under: kids,Martini Recipes,Random — jen @ 9:24 pm

. . . that children are brand new to this place. Everything they see or hear is a revelation to them, something to get excited or scared about with surprising enthusiasm.

My son has discovered that the chocolate covered shortbread cookies he eats can stick to the wall. I handed him one the other day and without missing a beat, he walked straight over to the wall and stuck it there. He turned around and grinned at me like he had just performed the most amazing feat in the world. Now, any time he gets a cookie, that’s what he does with it and it’s still as awesome to him as it was the first time he did it.

He’s also obsessed with trucks. When we’re driving in the car and he sees a truck, whether it’s a semi or a 4×4, he screams, “Mama! Big truck! Big truck!” I get exhausted feigning enthusiasm about a giant truck that’s about to cut me off on the interstate, but what are ya gonna do? He stares out our window all day long, hoping to catch a glimpse of one. That must be hardwired into little boys’ brains, because every mom I know who has a little boy tells me their son loves trucks too.

My daughter loves animals. She informed us that she was going to be an animal doctor when she grows up. This is totally cool with me – free medical care for all my pets, right? When we’re outside and a bird lands anywhere within sight, she runs after it trying to catch it. She’s truly disappointed when it flies away. She doesn’t understand why the bird won’t let her pet it. I’m thinking of all the diseases those things are carrying and thanking God that her little feet can’t move so fast.

She wakes up every day and tells me, “Mama, it’s a beautiful day. What are we going to do?” A million things run through my head – laundry, cleaning, pay bills, figure out what to make for dinner – the usual grown-up things we think about. But to her, she’s wondering what games we’re going to play, what snack we’ll have or where we might go.

It must be exhausting to be a little person. Maybe that’s why I’m tired all the time – all that stuff I found amazing as a kid and then refusing to take naps, it’s finally caught up with me.

Have a super Memorial Day and don’t forget to put out your flags, people. Enjoy:

Woo Woo

1 oz vodka

1/2 oz peach schnapps

cranberry juice

Pour vodka & schnapps into glass filled with ice. Add cranberry juice to top off the glass. Stir with a fancy plastic stick to make it seem like you’re in a real bar.

May 24, 2010

Things I Thought I Learned from Cartoons

Filed under: kids,Random — jen @ 7:04 pm

One of the perks of having kids is that you get to watch cartoons without anyone hassling you about it being immature. Thankfully, my kids enjoy the older cartoons – you know, the good ones like Scooby-Doo and Bugs Bunny and the Pink Panther. My kids crack up the same way I did when I watched them oh-so many years ago.

The other day Tess asked me why they always do “all those tricky things” on Scooby-Doo. She was referring to the elaborate traps The Gang sets up in order to catch that episode’s “ghost.” (Why were they always called ghosts? Most were more like monsters, but whatever.) I had no response. When I was a kid, I just accepted it. As an adult, I just accept it. But when my 4 year-old points out the strangeness of it, it got me thinking: I was pretty stupid as a kid who grew up to be a pretty stupid adult.

I used to pretend I was Daphne when I was a kid. She was the only pretty redhead out there at the time.

I thought I learned:

When you’re trapped in a well, basement, library or attic, always look for the more brightly painted brick, piece of wood or book. That’s the button for the secret door that opens up and leads you to the rest of your group. While I’ve never been stuck in any of these places, I think it’s safe to say that since the real world is not colored in by animators, that might not be the best way to find a way out of your situation.

What you should really do: Carry a cell phone and a knife/gun/pocket toolkit at all times. Or, you may need to MacGyver it up, so be on the lookout for random objects strewn about the room.

I hated the Road Runner. I always rooted for Wile E. My cynicism started at a young age.

I thought I learned: If you’re chasing something across a high wire or around a cliff, always have an umbrella or a woman’s corset. These items will allow you to either gently float down to the ground, or allow you to soar like a bird to safety (for a little while). It’s also possible to blow up a single balloon yourself, without Helium, and float up into the air in pursuit of your prey or to escape.

What you should really do: Not chase things across a high wire or around a mountainous region. No prey is worth the risk of your umbrella folding up on you or the corset coming untied. Also, I don’t normally carry those things on me whether I’m in pursuit of my lunch or not, and I’m not sure anyone else does either.  The characters also tend to run into the sides of mountains, so really, it doesn’t work anyway. Although, the injuries are never fatal, so technically, it does kinda work.

A single balloon will not lift a human being off the ground, especially if it’s not filled with Helium. I learned that in high school chemistry. So, if you need to become airborne, I suggest a plane, or at the very least, a hot air balloon, though I’m not sure you’re allowed to hunt on either of those contraptions due to Homeland Security and whatnot. Best to have your food delivered – it’s somewhat safer.

Now, those are just a couple of things. I won’t bore you with the rest of my stupidity. It’s common sense, really. Most kids don’t have much of it and most adults I know don’t either. That’s why cartoons are funny. Suspension of disbelief is just an automatic response to cartoons when you’re a kid, I guess. Or it’s just letting your imagination go wild and enjoying life. I suggest to my readers: watch at least one cartoon a day and laugh out loud. It’s better than searching in vain for a brightly colored escape hatch.

May 8, 2010

Moms Rock

Filed under: kids,Random — jen @ 6:40 pm

To all the stay-at-home moms who may sometimes feel guilty for not “earning a living”:

Let's be honest, Alice did all the work.

What you do is invaluable. You may not be receiving a check you can cash, but your work will pay off one day when you least expect it. (Not to mention you’re saving your family approximately $150 a week per child in day-care expenses. That’s over $15,000 a year for two kids.)

You may long for a staff meeting in lieu of changing a poopy diaper sometimes and that’s okay. But when your children are grown and off creating fabulous lives for themselves, you have the satisfaction of knowing that you laid the foundation for their self-confidence. When they are in loving, committed relationships with people they trust and feel secure in who they are and what they want out of life, you will know it’s because of you. You’ll know that all the heartache you felt over the years was worth it, that you made a difference in someone’s life, and in turn, made the world a better place. You knew when to hold that child close and when it was time to let them go. And hopefully they’ll remember all that when you’re the one wearing diapers.

For all the moms who work 40 hours a week and have to send their kids to day-care:

Super hip, super cool Mrs. Huxtable.

Please don’t feel guilty. Your family depends on you and your children love you and won’t hate you for missing out on anything – that’s all in your head. You’re the only mom they know and the only mom they’ll ever have. Cherish the time you spend with them and don’t waste it being bitter about the things you can’t do. No $6 an hour sitter can replace the love you lavish on your children when you’re home – even when you’re exhausted because your idiot boss needs you to put meetings on his calendar because he hasn’t taken the time to learn how to do it himself. Take a deep breath and remember, it’s not easy and you’re doing the best you can.  They will appreciate all you’ve sacrificed in order to provide them with a better life. Just call in sick every once in awhile and take your kids to the zoo.

For all the moms who pay an extra 50¢ for character inspired macaroni and cheese and fruit snacks:

It seems like there's less in these than the regular stuff.

You’ll buy generic razors for yourself to make up for it, because you know your kids will eat an entire bowl of Spongebob or Spiderman pasta without complaining that it’s boring or gross. And the pricey Dora fruit snacks? Well, processed fruit just doesn’t taste right to a toddler if it’s not shaped like the head of a cartoon character. That extra money you spend for them is being put to good use; so what if you used a whole roll of toilet paper on one shin?

 

 

For all the moms who unload the dishwasher at 10 o’clock at night:

Who needs 8 hours of sleep? Not you!

You may not have dirtied all those dishes, (well, actually, you made dinner so technically, you did dirty some of them), but you put every last one in that dishwasher, put in the soap and turned it on. But as you were cleaning up toys, you found a sippy cup full of milk stuck under the couch and rushed it in to the kitchen to throw it in the dishwasher before the rinse cycle completed to make sure your little one had his favorite cup at breakfast. You avoided a meltdown and salmonella at the same time. I salute you for that.

 

For all the moms whose hair is slapped back in a ponytail and whose lips haven’t seen lipstick in over 5 years:

Because a ponytail is better than bed head.

You know it’s more important to brush your daughter’s hair and put in ribbons or barrettes that match her dress so she’ll feel like the pretty princess she is. It’s time to let her shine. We can see how pretty you once were just by looking at her. We know how you used to take care of yourself – we all did. Using hair products or even a brush has become a thing of the past.  Foundation? Shimmery lip gloss? Mascara?  Who has the time? Just think of all the money you’re saving. Money you can now spend on headbands and bows and Hello Kitty lip smacker that your four year-old HAS to have. Besides, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Keep telling yourself that. You’ll believe it one day. I know I will.

And finally:

To all the moms who vacuum six times before noon, do five loads of laundry, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, change diapers, go to the store, pay bills, clean your kids’ rooms (twice), get snacks for the kids, play outside, take their child to the doctor, color, make an appointment with the finance guy, make play-doh aliens, tie shoelaces over and over, help their child write letters and/or numbers, get interrupted during their one bathroom break of the day to find the red block, pick up the dry cleaning, dry tears over a scraped finger/knee/arm/leg, search the entire house to find a favorite lost truck,  arrange play dates for their kids even when they don’t like the parent they then have to sit and chat with, make three dozen cupcakes for their child’s bake sale that they just found out about (it’s tomorrow!), and then have to answer a husband who asks, “You didn’t iron my shirt for tomorrow?”

I have bail money ready. Just give me a call.

May 3, 2010

Nothing to Blog About

Filed under: kids,Random — jen @ 7:43 am

So I was on Twitter last night and was surprised to read that one of my favorite bloggers is experiencing the same misfortune as me: nothing to blog about. Quite a pickle. Do I ramble on with nothing interesting to say, just to have a post out there? Do I make my two readers wait another couple of days so that they will feel truly rewarded when they read a really phenomenal post during the few free minutes they have? I don’t have an answer. But I have a couple of sweet little pictures of my babies to share. Enjoy.

Pillow fort madness!

Starting their own blogs. They're much more clever than I.

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