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Category Archives: Amy

  1. Four Years Ago

    Four years ago, I woke up, had a contraction, had another almost immediately and BANG, I was in labour. It was a hard way to start, with contractions full bore and no respite.

    Seven hours later, my tiny girl was born, not screaming, but looking at me with giant eyes, taking everything in.

    We all know THAT didn’t last long, as she spent the next 12 months screaming.

    We were five generations of women then. We’re not anymore and it still hurts, every day.

    So, here we are four years later.

    It’s been a long road and parenting Amy is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But some days,  it’s also the most rewarding.

    Incidentally, today is also Fathers Day.

    So Happy 4th Birthday Amy and Happy Fathers Day Nathan.

    Poor Nathan. Today isn’t about him at all.

    Posted in Amy.

  2. Barely maintaining the chaos

    Some days it feels like I’m barely maintaining the chaos.

    When I’m trying to write, Isaac is playing with his toys, Amy is causing destruction and Maisy is pitching in, like any good puppy, to cause as much mess as possible.

    Amy’s a tricky one, because she waits until I’m not watching, before disappearing into the kitchen to make a rice cake and cheese/pour some milk/get out the eggs/look in the fridge/make a godawful mess.

    And I’m watching her, I truly am, except for in the 5 seconds when she causes absolute havoc.

    So I break off what I’m doing, clean up, kick her out of the kitchen, put the dog outside, make everyone something to eat, before sitting back down again.

    Then it all happens again.

    We’re put combination locks on all the cupboards and the fridge, which helps. So long as we (meaning Nathan) remember to CLOSE them. I mean, surely it wasn’t Amy’s fault she ate an entire block of chocolate yesterday, silently, so she didn’t wake me. Although, that one, not helped by the combo lock so much, she used a chair to get to the very top (unlocked) cupboard. Sigh.

    Mornings are my time to write. By the time bedtime knocks around, I am too tired, and too sore to sit down and type, so I don’t bother.

    Unfortunately, Nathan is taking advantage of these last few months before Amy starts school to sleep in as much as possible, leaving me ‘working’ and dealing with children and tidying up and it’s just exhausting.

    And yes, I could break off my writing and pay full and absolute attention to my children. Surely they wouldn’t get into mischief then?

    Well no. Actually, you’d be wrong.

    Even if I’m paying FULL attention to the children, which generally involves having them both hanging off my body, leaving aside the fact that not writing when I need to sends me a little bit batty, Amy still gets into mischief. She just waits until I’m changing Isaac’s bum, putting a load of washing on, turned around or in the toilet. Which you could argue wasn’t me paying FULL attention to her, but shit, I’ve got to do something other that let them sit on me and pull my hair.

    She’s such an overwhelming child sometimes, I can’t even begin to explain.

    It’s just frustrating to feel like I’m spending the day running three steps behind everyone else. To have dislocatey bits and still be making sure Amy stays in the small yard, keeping Isaac entertained, and keeping the house as least semi-livable.

    But then we have moments where the house is mostly tidy, Isaac is napping (a rare experience) and Amy is curled up on the couch next to me, snuggled into my lap while I read a book.

    And that’s when I think I’m doing something right, instead of barely holding on.

    Posted in Amy, Headfuck, Isaac.

  3. Online shopping and planning for a birthday.

    It’s Amy’s birthday in a few days and I’ve been slowly buying her presents online.

    Of course, that isn’t going to stop the mad dash the day before, braving Father’s Day sales and actual people to pick up the last few bits and pieces, plus food.

    It’s insanity, I swear.

    The problem with online buying is despite knowing when things are meant to ship, you’re never really certain when they’re going to show up. So it’s a bit of a lucky dip.

    Not to mention the excitement when the postman shows up and then the heartbreak when I won’t let her open the parcels RIGHT THEN.

    Anyway, online shopping. I think it’s saving my sanity.

    I am no good with shopping centres, with crowds, with one child tugging me in one direction while the other wails that we’re not going towards that THING. What thing? THAT THING ARRGGGGGHHHHHH.

    Plus, my lovely EDSy issues mean I’m easily exhausted. And really, I’d prefer to use my precious energy on fun things, like the park, not stressful things like hunting down presents.

    So, online shopping.

    The only problem seems to be, department stores that do online ordering seem to have a teensy weensy selection.

    Sigh.

    It doesn’t really matter, as this birthday I’m operating on a less-is-more principle. Less presents, better quality, good food and people who love her.

    Surely I can’t go wrong with that?

    Excuse me while I go write a hundred more lists and work out what food we’re eating.

    Posted in Amy, EDS.

  4. Internet Safety, the things that scare me.

    I received Amy’s enrollment forms for school recently and as I was looking them over, I noticed a new part.

    I give permission for my child’s photo and full name to be used on the school website:  YES/NO.

    Immediately alarm bells began to ring and I circled NO.

    Because, and here is my reasoning:

    I am Amy’s mother and I write about her on the Internet. I don’t use her surname, nor do I mention where we live, or what school she’ll be attending. These are safety things.

    But, even though I write about Amy – I don’t want her full name and photo used by the school on their website, EVER. It’s only a small step from someone finding out which school she is at and her full name, to being able to track her down and I don’t want that.

    Am I being paranoid? Maybe a little, but look, I earn my money on the ‘nets and I know how insane some people can be here. I don’t want anyone being able to track us down at home, or being able to find Amy at school.

    And I’m a little pissed actually, because you’d think that the school would think of that and not use full names and photos of students. That said, I applaud the fact that I can refuse permission for Amy’s photo and work to be available online and I’m glad we have that option. I’ll certainly make full use of that.

    I recently found out that you could find my home address online, thanks to a find people for free website. You can bet your arse I was on the phone to my phone provider that day, getting my number delisted. I’m pissed to find that while I’m delisted from the phone book, the website still has my details available.

    And god knows, when Amy starts school and I do the obligitory OMG my baby! in uniform! going off to school! post, you can bet money on the fact that the photos will be in black and white and that the school logo will be blurred beyond repair. I’m paranoid enough to not even want the school uniform colours known.

    So, my questions:

    Do you think I’m being oversensitive?

    How does your school handle their online presence and your child’s photos? Did you get a chance to opt out of having photos and work available online?

    Have you ever thought about this before – or do you think that, as bloggers, privacy issues and this kind of thing are naturally at the front of our minds?

    Posted in Amy, Blogging, Headfuck.

  5. How am I not insane? I don’t know.

    ‘How are you not insane?’ asks the Occupational Therapise after we’ve just finished discussing all of Amy’s issues, a list about the length of my arm.

    ‘I don’t know? I guess, I’ve got no choice?’

    And the reality is, I don’t know. Nathan and I get to the end of some days and look at each other, wondering where we’re going wrong.

    Only the thing is, we’re not doing anything wrong.

    After discussing Amy today for over an hour and a half, the OT looked at me: ‘So, what do you think is up?’

    ‘To be honest? I think it might be Aspergers. I think there is something more here.’

    Of course, the OT can’t make a diagnosis – we need a Paediatrician and a Psychologist to do that. But she works with autistic children every day and knows what they’re like.

    ‘Look, I know you can’t diagnose anything, but is it aspergers do you think?’

    She looked at me.

    ‘Well, what we’re seeing is in line with an aspergers diagnosis. It’s all very typical behaviours.’

    So that’s that.

    ***

    Amy has some amazing strengths:

    She is intelligent, oh so intelligent. She speaks well above her age level and she can problem solve with the best of them.

    But, her auditory and visual sensory processing issues are pretty major and we’re not sure just how much of what we’re saying is reaching her. She prefers the dark, she can’t concentrate with background noise around and she melts down often.

    She needs to reaffirm everyone’s relationship to her, every single day. ‘You are my Mum. Your name is Veronica. Daddy is my Daddy. His name is Nathan.’ She can’t answer some questions and she walks off in the middle of conversations, because they’re too much for her. She doesn’t understand strangers; everyone is her friend.

    She has a lot of social problems and while eye contact wasn’t an issue when she was a baby, it’s getting too much for her now. And the OT suspects that Amy isn’t processing pain signals properly.

    On top of so many other things that are aspergers related.

    On top of the Ehlers Danlos.

    On top of the Coeliacs.

    She is beautiful and heartbreakingly difficult.

    ***

    I knew it was coming. I knew.

    It doesn’t make it any easier and while I know it changes nothing, except the services we can access, I’m a bit shell shocked today.

    The OT (who is lovely btw) is astounded that no one has picked this up sooner. Amy has never been an easy child, she screamed for her first 12 months and things never got any easier. Not really.

    And it’s getting harder as she gets older.

    Everyone missed this – even when we told the Paeds that Amy was incredibly difficult, that she doesn’t listen, that she does what she likes regardless of what we say or do. They all missed it, even when the desperation must have been audible in our voices.

    ***

    We have a lot of work and a lot of appointments and therapy ahead of us. Amy starts kindergarten in February and it is flying closer, faster than I’d like.

    And all I can think is that I miss my grandmother an awful lot today, with an ache that hurts.

    Posted in Amy, Aspergers, Grief, Headfuck.

  6. Amy’s bedroom. Aka the mess pit.

    Keeping Amy’s bedroom tidy is a nightmare. I could deal with it, if it was just standard 3yo mess, but the lack of shelves/cupboards/organisation is driving me a little bit batshit.

    A bit of backstory. In 2008, we bought this house, quite cheap. We were lucky, because then the GFC hit and there would have been NO hope of us getting a homeloan, being low income earners. So, we’re ahead of the game at least.

    The house however, is a renovators delight. Or nightmare, I’m not quite sure.

    See posts here, here and here.

    Go on, read them. I’ll wait.

    So, the house, it needs a leeetle bit of work, which is why Amy’s room has no storage.

    We did however, put up glow stars and planets for her.

    Before we moved in, the panels hiding those gaps had been peeled off, obviously so the previous residents could paint. Of course, they didn’t finish the job, leaving us with a giant mess, that we’ve not had the money to fix yet.

    Soon, hopefully soon, the room will be plastered, painted and end up with bookshelves, shelves and a cupboard for her clothes.

    And you know, by the time that happens, she might even be old enough to keep her stuff in order without our help!

    We’re not even going to talk about how part of the floor is sinking and that it’s a little like walking on a boat.

    At least, not today.

    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck.

  7. Kidspot’s Top 50 – Blog your way to Dunk Island.

    I’ve not had a major holiday in a long time. Never since I’ve been with Nathan and certainly not since our children came along. In fact, the thought of a holiday, while sending me giddy with excitement, also freaks me out a little bit because wow, have you met my daughter? She’s a bit challenging. So we’ve never had a family holiday, which is a shame. I’m sure we’re missing out on something.

    The last holiday I had, I was 13. I saved up for my plane fares and I went to Adelaide with my grandmother for Easter, and she was, obviously, still alive then. We had a brilliant time working out bus routes into the city and shopping and exploring Adelaide. Oh my word, the shopping. That woman was fun to shop with. We ate sushi for the first time (we were hooked) and it was a blast.

    But you know, I was 13 and my Nan wasn’t dead, so I may have my rose coloured glasses on a little here.

    Anyway, I was named one of Kidspot’s Top 50 Mummy Bloggers, which is kind of a big deal for me. The sponsors love us apparently and want to send one of the top 50 mummy bloggers to stay in tropical paradise for a week. Which is my ideal holiday, imagine how well my joints would do if thrown into warmth? And not Tassie Pseudo Warmth, but actual real warmth? I digress.

    On the flip side, I am up there alongside some amazing women, who desperately deserve a holiday of their own. Tiff for instance, my amazing friend, who has spent more time in hospital with Ivy these last few months than anyone should ever have to.

    My last 18 months has been a bit of a nightmare. Cancer diagnoses, hospitalisations, Nan dying, anxiety attacks, more hospitalisations, geneticists, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, a coeliacs diagnosis, Paed appointment after Paed appointment, broken arms and finally, early intervention and the beginnings of a diagnosis that is looking likely to end up as Aspergers for Amy. Yes, I finally said it out loud here, despite not wanting to jinx myself. We think Amy has Aspergers. There is a lot going on with Amy that I’ve not even been able to bring myself to blog about, because how do you tell the InterWebs that your daughter is amazingly talented, but oh my God, I think something is not entirely right here.

    I would love a holiday and you can actually vote for me over there. You can also click through and have a look at my three favourite posts and what I’ve got to say for myself.

    By the same token, I am absolutely thrilled to have ended up as a top 50 blogger. I’ve been doing this for a very long time now and it’s nice to have someone say that they enjoy reading here. Every email I get, every new commenter who says ‘I get where you’re coming from’ makes me happy.

    And sometimes, being happy with what you’ve got is enough, no matter how long ago the last holiday was.

    ***

    Have you been on holiday with your family recently? Where did you go? Where would your dream destination be if you had unlimited funds? (Unlimited funds would send me straight to England to visit my very favourite bloggers over there, before a quick trip to Kansas and then home again.)

    I’m half hoping that this summer, we can go and spend a few days on a beach up at St Helens with the kids because that would be lovely and relaxing. Failing that, a day trip to the beach would be nice. Or anywhere I can keep the kids semi contained while I lay in the sun with a book and my sunscreen. Like the backyard. Maybe here, in the depths of winter, I’m just longing for sunshine and warmth. A very real possibility.

    Posted in Amy, Blogging, Cancer, EDS, Grief, Headfuck.

  8. Bedtime: It’s a love hate relationship.

    I love bedtime. LOVE LOVE LOVE. To the point where I start counting down the minutes until 6.30pm for at least an hour beforehand. Bedtime, it’s brilliant.

    At the same time, I hate it. HATE.

    Isaac is a lovely child. I put him in his cot with a bottle, turn out the light and normally, barring a tummy ache or his sister bothering him, he is out like a light 30 minutes later.

    Amy however, Amy turns bedtime into a miserable tale of woe, with screaming, tantrums, endless requests and constant getting out of bed.

    Last night, it took nearly 3 hours from start to finish for Amy to fall asleep. Every 5 minutes:

    ‘Mummy, I need a cuddle. Just another cuddle.’

    ‘Okay, here. Now go to BED.’

    ‘Mummy, can I have a bottle?’

    ‘No. It’s bedtime. You’ve had a drink.’

    ‘Mummy, I need to use the potty.’

    ‘Okay. Quickly then.’

    Repeat, ad infinitum.

    The potty is the worst thing. She goes into the bathroom and sits quietly until we forget about her. Then she runs riot. I’m not quite sure WHY I bought bandaids the other day, as to this point, Amy has done nothing but steal and open them, sticking them to every available surface.

    Sometimes, I’ll go to check on her, sitting on the potty, claiming she needs to poo, only to discover she’s squeezed toothpaste all over the floor. Or emptied a bottle of shampoo into her hair. Or pulled out all the face washers. Or, or, or.

    And if I sit in the bathroom with her, she will screech ‘I AM TRYING TO POO! LEAVE ME ALONE!’ until I leave.

    It’s a nightmare.

    Once we get over the potty hurdle, it doesn’t end there.

    She’ll dart between her bedroom and ours, to hide under our bed until we notice she isn’t sleeping.

    Or she’ll sit in the hallway and screech ‘BUT I’M A NEED TO DRAW!!!’

    Eventually, when I’m at the end of my tether, smacks will be threatened and she will scream and wail that she ‘JUST NEEEDS….’

    ‘NO. YOU DON’T. YOU NEED TO GO TO SLEEP!’

    If I’m lucky, none of this will wake Isaac. All the stomping, yelling, screeching and tantrumming, he will sleep through it.

    If I’m unlucky, he won’t and I’ll be left with a screamy clingy tired toddler and a defiant preschooler, both screaming at us.

    Nathan and I take turns putting Amy to bed. Not that this helps. By the time she falls asleep, we’ve put her to bed at least 5 times each – leaving both of us exhausted and snappy.

    Like I said. Bedtime. It’s a love hate relationship.

    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck.

  9. Amy and Early Intervention

    See, I don’t know how to write about this, because at this stage, we still know very little. Not much at all in fact.

    We do know that Amy speaks and understands well above her age level. We know that. We know she is intelligent and highly vocal. We know she has amazing problem solving skills, as exhibited by her constant escaping from the house. I must be the rare person who constantly loses their child, even when things are apparently secure.

    We know her strong points.

    However.

    She is missing some things too.

    Like narrative skills.

    She can’t extend her play – which is why she pays attention to an activity for approximately 30 seconds before losing it. Before she wanders off, does something else, walks away in the middle of a conversation. She doesn’t extend her thinking past the now, past the ‘I’ve done this thing, now I don’t think about it again, ever’. She paints a painting for the sake of painting on paper, not to draw a picture, or tell a story, or show me something. She paints because she likes putting the brush to paper and that’s it.

    Not knowing how to extend her play and missing her narrative skills, Amy doesn’t understand how other children interact at all. She plays next to children, like a toddler, rather than with children, which is what you’d expect from an almost 4 year old.

    She doesn’t like reading, because missing narrative skills, she doesn’t understand the story. For her, it appears that while she remembers the page before (she has an amazing memory), she doesn’t connect it to the page we’re reading now and she doesn’t anticipate the next page, nor how the story will end. It’s all in the now for her, another toddler like behaviour. It why she’s only been allowing me to read her stories for the last few months – not because she wants a story, but because she doesn’t want to miss out on the snuggle and hearing me talk.

    This is why sticker charts didn’t work. She had no idea why I was giving or withholding stickers, not having narrative skills, she missed the link between action and consequence. Do something good, get a sticker! She didn’t understand why she had to behave to get the sticker, she just wanted the sticker.

    It’s also why disciplining Amy is like beating your head against a brick wall. She doesn’t get the action = consequence thing. Not properly.

    Amy also appears to have some sensory problems, mostly with her vision and hearing. She is incredibly distracted by things and doesn’t seem to be able to switch her brain off to ‘background noise’ vision. It’s why she has to examine everything inside a building, why she has to open doors, look inside, pull things apart etc, because she needs to be able to examine everything closely before she can listen or pay attention.

    It why she bolts in the supermarket and melts down often.

    She also has trouble listening when there is background noise, like the radio playing. She can’t tune things out.

    Of course, it’s all early days yet and none of these things are set in stone. But this appears to be why Amy has so many issues listening and behaving. It seems that we’ve been expecting way too much of her, because her language and comprehension are so developed.

    We’re doing more work and more studies into Amy’s behaviour with IE and the women down there are absolutely lovely. Hopefully once we’ve pinned down exactly what is happening, I will have more ideas on how to deal with it.

    For now, I’ve been asked to put all the children’s books away, bar one and read that one book every day. A lot of the toys have been put away too, so that Amy can concentrate on one activity at a time, rather than being overwhelmed by everything.

    School is going to be interesting, that’s for sure.

    And for something amusing, you should have heard me trying to explain to Amy what manners were. She asked for something, without saying please and I said ‘Where are your manners!’ I explained that manners were please and thank you and polite talking, but she still seemed to think I had something called Manners hidden somewhere and that we ought to go and find it.

    Sigh.

    I can’t help but feel that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck.

  10. One of ‘those’ mornings.

    When I walked outside this morning to check on Amy, who was ‘going to the toilet and then going to check for eggs and mail, okay Mum?’ I didn’t expect to hear a small voice start screeching -

    ‘DON’T SMACK MY BUM’

    And she was right to screech it at me, as I looked at her sitting in a puddle of wheat; an entire 25kg (55lb) bag tipped out onto the concrete and Amy paddling in it like it was water.

    Amy was ordered to time out while I stomped around the house swearing and hunting up clothes warm enough to see me through the task of cleaning up three weeks worth of chook and duck food. The stomping also served to calm me down enough that I wasn’t going to spend the next 10 minutes yelling.

    Eventually I went into Amy’s bedroom to speak to her.

    ‘What on EARTH were you thinking?’

    ‘I was thinking that it was a good idea’ she sobbed.

    Obviously kiddo. Obviously.

    Well it WASN’T. It was a very BAD idea!’

    ‘It was’ she agreed, still sobbing.

    I smacked her bum, not hard, and left her in time out.

    20 minutes later, I was outside with the broom and shovel, cleaning up wheat – not something I’d been planning on doing when I got out of bed this morning. The wind was icy and cutting and the concrete was cold, as I sat in the middle of Amy’s puddle and wondered what on earth she was thinking.

    Probably that wheat feels nice I thought, as I remembered running my hands through the wheat as a child and begging to be allowed to stand in the feed bin and run my feet through the wheat.

    I finished the clean up and swept the last few handfuls of wheat off the concrete and onto the grass for the ducks to find later.

    Coming back inside, Amy was on her way outside again, despite being told that outside was off limits this morning, due to the wheat incident. What can I say, three year olds, have awesome listening skills. Heh. She came back inside whining, again. Still. Whining lots.

    I dead bolted the door, something I hardly ever do and sat down to finish with emails, before getting stuff together for a shower. The kids were playing nicely in Isaac’s bedroom. Just as I finished the emails, I heard….

    Is that the outside door?

    Wait, it’s too late for the postman.

    FUCK IT. I bet it’s ‘god botherers’ again.

    I’ve not even brushed my hair this morning.

    FUCK IT.

    Then, a very small knock on the door.

    And a small voice.

    ‘Mummy?’

    I unlocked the door, to find Amy, egg in hand, triumphant.

    She’d absconded out of Isaac’s window, leaving him behind whinging.

    Heh. That explains the draught I could feel.

    Time out. Again. For disobeying me and climbing out of the window.

    20 minutes later, I’d showered and was dressed properly. Heading outside to do my standard morning stuff (A circuit of the boundary to pick up rubbish, check the fruit trees and gum trees, a chook head count, a duck head count, feeding of all the poultry, a check of all the places I know the chooks sit to look for hidden egg nests, a check of the blackberries for my 3 new chooks,  a check of the nesting boxes to see where everyone is deciding to lay and finally, making sure all the water containers have enough water in them for the day) I left the kids inside. Like I always do when it’s cold and I’m having an exhausted morning.

    When I came back inside 20 minutes later, after discovering no new nests and that my 3 new chooks are still hiding in the blackberries (long story, they were meant to be locked up for a few days in the pen, but SOMEONE let them out without my permission. I’m lucky they haven’t bolted), Amy was looking guilty and the kitchen was covered in sugar.

    ‘How come there is sugar everywhere?’

    ‘I want a cup of tea.’

    ‘But the sugar!’

    ‘I dropped it.’

    ‘I can see that.’

    SIGH.

    Yep. We’ve definitely had one of those mornings.

    ***

    Annnnd, I know I’m shameless, but would you care to vote for my boobs? #5 is me!

    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck.

  11. Elmo Live

    This post is sponsored by Nuffnang.

    I like working with Mattel, did you know that? They’ve got some pretty good toys and more than me liking their stuff, Amy adores their stuff. And yes, being the child of a penniless broken writer means that she appreciates the toys she gets just a little bit harder than other kids I see.

    A week ago or so, a box arrived at my doorstep. I had no idea what to expect, as I’d totally forgotten that Nuffnang and I had emailed about this and coming hot on the tail of this little gem, I was overwhelmed. So. Many. Presents. in such a short amount of time!

    It felt like Christmas, all over again.

    So, Amy and I tore open the box and started playing with the Elmo Live that was hidden inside.

    I’ll just say, Isaac doesn’t like toys that make noises or move. He’s easily freaked out so I didn’t even try to get him to play. He had fun watching Amy play, from a safe distance across the room, snuggled under a blanket. He’s not scared of Elmo, but he’s not a fan. Being only 17 months old though, he’s not even within the recommended age range, so it’s no big deal.

    Amy was thrilled to pieces. If you squeeze his nose, he goes HONK! and that kept her amused for ages. Being a child who doesn’t sit still or concentrate, having her play with a toy without needing my input for a while was amazing. I actually got things done! Sure they were bloggy things and not like, housework, but things! done!

    Elmo does talk a lot – unlike the other toys you see, that have 5 or 6 different sayings and they repeat them until you swear that you can hear them, even when you’ve removed the batteries. No Elmo isn’t like that. He has 60+ different sayings and he tells stories and sings, amongst the standard conversational lines and jokes.

    All around, he was the perfect toy for Amy who found the talking balanced well with the button pushing. Plus, I was surprised by how much she liked him. I tend to steer away from toys like this, see above re penniless broken writer, but also because I worry about the lifespan of the interest in the toy. Somehow I don’t think I’ll be worrying about that anymore, after seeing how much Amy liked him.

    Posted in Amy, Sponsored Posts.

  12. Sunday Snippets

    ‘Mummy, I want you to peel me an orange. ‘

    ‘Not yet sweetheart, soon.’

    ‘A big FAT one.’

    ‘Right, a big fat one?’

    ‘Yes. Like you. Like your head.’

    Three year olds. Amazing what they can do for an ego.


    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Life.

  13. Telling like it is.

    Things are hard at the moment.

    There. That wasn’t so bad.

    Amy is well, Amy is Amy.

    You know the story of Amy. She’s high speed and full of energy. She never stops, ever and she doesn’t listen. She is smart and beautiful and oh so difficult to discipline, because she just won’t listen, doing whatever she was doing before you caught her, just doing it faster than before, trying to get it completed before you reach her.

    The n0t listening, the lack of easy discipline options and her adamant refusal to just do as she’s told makes life hard.

    As Isaac grows up, I’m getting to see what typical is. Isaac is very typical. He is age appropriate, he cries when he’s growled at, he talks and he asks to be read a story eleventy hundred times a day. To be faced with a child who is just so very normal, mentally, makes me realise just how different Amy is.

    You know, she doesn’t ask why? Or answer why for that matter. If I ask her why she did something, I get ‘because I did it.’ ‘Amy, why did you tip out the sugar?’ ‘Because I tipped it out.’

    There doesn’t appear to be any reason behind the WHY she did something. At least, not any reason that she can articulate, and god knows, language isn’t our barrier here.

    She says ‘Lellow’ which I know is normal, but it annoys me and so I work with her, on saying ‘Yellow.’ She can say the Y sound perfectly, with yes and yeah and yell all leaving her mouth perfectly formed.

    But yellow? No. She won’t (can’t?) say it properly.

    So I tried to get her to say Yellow properly the other day. She had a meltdown and spent a few minutes screaming at me. Like, screaming, with words and I will not say it and shut up Mummy.

    I was shocked, she got time out for not speaking nicely and I realised, I’ve been having to give more time outs for her screaming at me in anger lately.

    This is proper screaming, not wordless meltdowns that I get from Isaac when I fail to understand him and he gets frustrated and loses it.

    Amy is hard to parent. She always has been, she doesn’t respond to smacking, to yelling (except lately to yell back at me, and seriously, that doesn’t achieve anything), to anything. She seems to have no idea of cause and effect, or she doesn’t care about it. I don’t know.

    She’s just different and I’m struggling with those differences.

    You know I’m not allowed to sing nursery rhymes to Isaac unless Amy allows me to? Or count. If she doesn’t want me to count, she’ll scream at me to stop counting.

    It’s hard and frustrating and the lack of listening, paying attention, doing as I’ve asked, is doing my head in.

    So.

    And this is the hard bit.

    We’re organising to have Early Intervention take a look at Amy.

    My name and number have been left with a lady who comes highly recommended and Amy has been discussed with her – she is very interested in talking about her issues.  I worry that this girl of mine is already walking around with enough labels, with the EDS and the coeliacs, but I am really recognising that I need outside help. Even if it’s just someone to look at Amy and tell me I’m not insane for finding her challenging. Really, I’ve got no idea how we’ve made it through this long, what with the 12 months worth of screaming and years of sleeplessness and everything else.

    Really, admitting there is a problem is half the battle, right?

    So here I am, admitting that we need help to understand Amy, to work out how to teach her things without her losing it and hopefully, teach me better ways of dealing with her less than stellar behaviours.

    Because she is hard to deal with. Insanely hard sometimes.

    And watching her brother grow and develop, I’m noticing all the things that Amy never did.

    There. Telling it like it is.

    Posted in Amy, Headfuck.

  14. Sleepless, just a little

    At 6.30am, I stumbled out of bed, unsure what the time was. I’d heard Amy getting up and down, but assumed that because the TV was still on that Nathan was awake and dealing with it. Nathan is my night owl.

    Unfortunately, Nathan had passed out on the couch a few hours prior, leaving the TV and lights on. Amy regularly wakes up to spend a few hours of quality time with her parents around the 2am mark. At least, she thinks it’s quality time. I think 2am is a poor poor time to be having to yell and threaten, but I digress.

    Amy had taken advantage of the background noise to cover her movements (I sleep rather lightly, enough so I knew she was awake, but wasn’t listening for what she was up to) and get into all kinds of mischief.

    There was a bottle made (milk all over the floor).

    A glass of cordial poured (what is that sticky patch?).

    The watermelon I had bought yesterday had been hacked into tiny little pieces (ick, something cold just exploded between my toes).

    And finally, she had obviously decided that the cats looked hungry and fed them some bones from my stock that was in the fridge, cooling overnight.

    Yay.

    So sleep. It’s been in short supply.

    ***

    We’re coming up to the 12 month anniversary of Nan’s death and well, let’s just say I’m not finding it that easy. There is a countdown in my head and I can’t seem to shut it off, no matter what I do.

    And so I’m not sleeping properly.

    Again.

    Plus, it’s cold, my children are being exceptionally needy because we can’t go outside and my body is about ready to pack it in. Yay me.

    On the upside, I have enough new (to me) books, thanks to internet friends, to keep me sunk into a world that isn’t this one for a month. Which is my plan.

    ***

    Ads and advertising!

    I had a lovely lady contact me about a month ago, offering me a free voucher from Menulog. Sadly I explained that I live in the middle of nowhere, my daughter has coeliacs and it just wasn’t possible. After thinking about it though, I offered her adspace on my sidebar – win win for both of us.

    On top of buying a month’s worth of advertising, she offered me a discount code for all of my lovely readers.

    So my lovely InterWeb friends, if you decide you would like to eat out this month, here is a $10 off discount code especially for you.

    Get $10 off on your first delivery order using this voucher code: 5CD87C

    Note: Available for participating restaurants only (which display the “accepts vouchers”) sign.

    This voucher is valid until December 2011 (wow!) – so if you regularly eat out, take advantage of me and order through Menulog.

    (Please note, I was not paid for this post, I received payment for the ad on my sidebar and that’s it. I thought that my readers would be interested in the discount code, seeing as a lot of them are living in areas which have access to these restaurants.)

    Posted in Amy, Blogging, Grief.

  15. Books and more books, with some history on me.

    Mummy Mummy! The postman is here! Amy cries at the top of her lungs.

    When I was a kid, the postman didn’t come. We lived up a great hill and there was no door to door postal service, so unless we were staying at a friend’s house, I didn’t get to check the mailbox. Instead, we had a post box at the local post office and it would get checked every few days, whenever someone drove past and remembered to call in.

    Amy though, Amy has every right to be excited about the postman coming. Because of my partnership with Nuffnang and their clients, we get things in the mail more often than not. Which, even though I’m all grown up, I still find terribly exciting. As well as Nuffnang, Sharon, my lovely commenter from Western Australia, previously the UK, she let Mum and I know about The Book Depository a while ago.

    And um, I think I’m a touch addicted.

    Just a little.

    If the 8 or so books that arrived in the mail today are anything to go by, then yes, addicted.

    You see, they’re incredible cheap. AND they offer free shipping.

    Finally though, they made me an affiliate, so now, I get to earn a (very) few pence for anyone I refer over who buys books.

    But that isn’t really what this post is about. It’s about the excitement of getting new books in the mail and finally, FINALLY, buying something for myself, to make me happy.

    ***

    When I was working full time, a very long time ago in another life, I was earning good money. Nathan was earning okay money too and with no major expenses except for rent, our money was our own to do with what we will.

    We went shopping, often. New clothes and books, as well as computer games for the both of us was the order of the day. My work was gruelling and intense, I was working split shifts and we’d generally spend the 2  hours between my shifts wandering around a shopping centre. Either that or we’d head straight home and crash, fast asleep for 90 minutes.

    I was a little exhausted, all the time.

    The work was good fun though and the amazing fun we had balanced out the fact that I would spend hours turning carrots into a perfect julienne and hours prepping stirfry mix.

    (Note: if you order a stirfry in a restaurant, there is a very VERY good chance that all the vegies have been presliced and popped into water to sit in a fridge until it’s needed. Of course, stirfry mix isn’t likely to give you salmonella. Maybe another time I’ll talk about the chicken that made me vomit as I cleaned it off and was still told to cook and serve it anyway.)

    Eventually I quit my job, due to health problems, at the time I had been diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome. I know now that it was EDS. There were also some issues with the new head chef. I hear the kitchen lost me and a few waitresses walked out that same week, as well as another chef and just wow. He was bad.

    Anyway.

    We went down to a mostly one income family then. Nathan was working and because I studied from home (Open Learning) I was getting government assistance.

    We barely made ends meet.

    And then I got pregnant and Nathan changed jobs and it was all okay again.

    Except there was no luxury items on the menu, ever. We paid our rent and bills, we ate and that was it.

    No new clothes, no new books, nothing.

    Nada.

    And I got used to it. Because I didn’t smoke or drink though, and Nathan did, I slowly ended up getting more resentful of the fact that he was spending money on himself (money that he had earned and that was left over after we’d paid everything, but STILL!) and I was getting nothing.

    I’d ended up at the point where I’d forgotten how to spend money on anything that wasn’t a necessity.

    Which okay, that’s a good way to live. And I lived like that for 3 and a half years, a little resentfully maybe and with the occasional large splurge (SLR camera anyone?) on my credit card, but that was it.

    It all came to a head recently, when my belt snapped and I wasn’t sure how I was going to juggle to budget to buy a new one. $10. A measly $10 and I wasn’t able to spend it on myself, despite knowing that it would be fine.

    Because $10?

    It’s a fortnight’s worth of cheese.

    Or meat for part of the week.

    It’s a bag of potatoes.

    Or half of my fruit and vegetable budget.

    I couldn’t do it.

    And I realised that I’d completely forgotten how to buy myself anything. I was so wrapped up in the kids and what they needed and what Nathan needed, that I was ignoring myself and getting steadily grumpier when each fortnight, we’d budget enough to buy Nathan his luxury item, beer.

    Which is stupid really.

    So, when Sharon let me know about the book depository and I saw how cheap their books were, I started buying a book for myself every now and again, which made me happy.

    Then I discovered Rivers Online (for the second time) and found, that if I wait for specials, I can actually buy myself winter clothes, without breaking the budget, or looking at the money in my hand and wondering how much food it would buy, or whether we should instead, set it aside for wood and water.

    This all coincides with my blog starting to make a little bit of extra money, enough to pay for a book every now and again. Or even a few of them.

    I feel better about things. Less resentful of my partner and family for getting what they want and not me.

    So, when the postman comes, I get excited too. Because often, there is something in the post for me.

    And that feels good.

    ***

    Heh, this started as a post to let you all know why I’d been a little vacant lately, that I’ve been spending all my time conserving energy, curled in a chair with a good book and it sort of snowballed! Some posts, I suppose they just brew up.

    ANYWAY!

    In the mail this morning we got a bunch of stuff, books for the kid, stickers, and books for me. Tomorrow, I expect we’ll get some more.

    So on my reading list for this week (yes, these are affiliate links, but they’re only to books I’m planning to read and they make me happy. Stop judging me!)

    The Secret Garden

    Confessions of a Shopaholic

    The Golden Compass

    The Little Friend

    The White Mountains

    Tess of the D’Urbervilles

    The Winter of our Discontent

    The Various.

    There are worse addictions to have. And I’m slowly working my way through all the books I’ve ever wanted to read, or own and buying them too. Things for the kids when they’re older, like Enid Blyton and such. It’s good fun.

    Also, in case you have a burning desire to read what I’m reading, I did pick the very cheapest copy of the book I could find to link to.

    Posted in Amy, Life.

  16. Honesty

    When I started blogging, I swore I would be honest. I was having a hard time parenting my high maintenance baby and I naturally gravitated to blogs who were ‘telling it like it is’ with the dirty bits of motherhood not spit shined up for public consumption. That’s how I liked my blogs, dirty and real.

    And so, I swore I would be honest, which I have been. I’ve also been guilty of pulling the funny bits out of motherhood and writing about them, and not about all the crap that I seem to spend every day slipping in. Figurative crap, not actual crap. For the record.

    So. Honesty.

    ***

    I dislocated my knee Sunday night. It was bad. I screamed and then I was stuck, unable to move at all, in front of the computer with a fully dislocated fibula and two wakeful needy children. Yes, Nathan was about and he child wrangled, but he has a tendency to huff and so the more he huffed, the more stressed I felt and the worse the pain got. Having a dislocated knee is not fun. Even less fun when it stays out for nearly 3 hours, with your partner asking if maybe you should ring the nurse hotline and me asking what on earth they were going to tell me that I didn’t already know. Damned if I was going to hospital for a dislocation I’ve done lots before.

    About 2 hours in, Amy came over for a cuddle, despite me telling her not to touch me (loudly and with slight screeching) and she bumped me and my knee twisted slightly.

    Absolute agony.

    I screamed, louder than I should have, for her not to touch me.

    It hurt. It fucking hurt. She twisted me just enough to make my fibula move from it’s completely dislocated but not insanely painful place, to it’s I might just grind against this bone right here and make you scream.

    I screamed and Amy screamed and as I sobbed, she sobbed.

    It was bad.

    Nathan cuddled her, while I explained, through my sobbing, that I wasn’t angry with her, but that my knee was really very painful.

    15 minutes later and much agony to boot, my knee went CLICK and the dislocation reduced. Of course, it promptly tried to pop out again while I held it in place, crying, while we braced it and Nathan helped me hobble to the toilet. I was pretty close to wetting myself. Three hours, it’s a long time.

    But going back, to me explaining to Amy that I couldn’t cuddle her and she needed to stay away, and her going ahead and doing exactly what she wanted.

    This is what Amy is like.

    All

    the

    time.

    She doesn’t listen. She is very THREE! at the top of her lungs and she goes ahead with whatever she wants, regardless of what I’m saying.

    Which you might say is just THREE! and that’s very possible, but this kid, she doesn’t listen. It’s like, once she gets an idea in her head, her brain shuts off to me telling her no. In fact, the louder I screech NO! and run towards her, the faster she does it.

    That’s how we ended up with a whole carton of milk spilled on the floor.

    And some days, I am just at my wits end because this kid, I love her but fucking hell is she hard to parent. Time out – doesn’t work. Smacking – doesn’t work. Nothing seems to get through to her as a consequence for her actions.

    She is hard and she is beautiful and love her, but oh man, some days, I just wish that I didn’t appear to be the only one parenting a child who is so high maintenance. I’d love to teach her to read, just for the peace it would give me, but she refuses to learn anything she doesn’t want to.

    Like numbers – she can count, but god help you if you try and count with her. Or correct her. Or try and show her how the numbers look on paper. The same with letters. She knows them, but she does not want to learn how to recognise them. She just will not do anything she doesn’t want to. Stubborn as anything and smart to boot. God help me.

    So, honesty.

    I yell too much. I say no too often. I frequently am stuck tearing my hair out because this kid won’t listen and I wonder, what is different with her to make her the way she is. I wish that things were easier, but they’re not and she is hard to parent. Time outs are frequent. And this is all when she’s gluten free and colour free and so much nicer than she used to be.

    She is hard. Three! is hard.

    No one tells you these things when you get pregnant.

    They just don’t.

    Posted in Amy, Headfuck, Life.

  17. Do kids ever stop talking?

    Amy woke up yesterday morning screaming – ‘OH NO! MUMMY! My nose has stopped working!! OH NO! It is BROKEN!’

    Yes. She woke up with a blocked nose and just assumed that her nose was broken.

    Whilst trying to play the games on the Wii Fit, Isaac kept turning off the machine. Amy eventually got really frustrated and screeched ‘ISAAC! You are making it REALLY HARD FOR ME.’

    He looked at her and giggled.

    Isaac: ‘Mummy! MUMMMEEEE! MUMEEEEEEEEE!’

    ‘What?’

    ‘Ghsdslkhj klhsddje ahdgejge haagss yes?’

    He looks at me expectantly.

    ‘Is that so?’

    Frustrated now, he replies ‘Mummeeee, GdhsdskJHGS hjdsgshsss hgeegete YES?’

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘Ahhhhh’ he sighs contentedly and snuggles me. I have no idea what I just agreed to. I hope it wasn’t the sale of my soul.

    Me: ‘Amy, do you ever stop talking?’

    Amy: ‘No.’

    Me: ‘Okay then, carry on.’

    Posted in Amy, Gotta Laugh, Isaac.

  18. Or Cows.

    I was outside taking photos of spiders earlier.

    Amy: ‘OH NO! Mummy! It is a spider! I don’t like spiders.’

    ‘It won’t hurt you, look, it’s tiny!’

    ‘No. Spiders need to get turned into meat. Or cows.’

    And then she wandered off, while I giggled quietly.

    Seems someone has been paying attention to where our pork chops came from. Maybe I ought to explain that spiders can’t turn into cows. Or meat for that matter.

    I’ve actually spent most of the day doing things. I took a lot of photos, spending nearly an hour outside chasing bees. Funnily enough, the world didn’t implode, nor did my children fall to pieces because I left them with their father. Strange how that works. Contrary to popular belief, I do not need to be within eye sight of them all the time.

    I mulched the entire garden, to save myself the trouble of weeding it. That was an undertaking.

    Photos especially for Kate at Picklebums, because I know she adores stickybeaking at gardens.

    Not pictured, all the onions I planted, the baby beetroot, the badly eaten capsicums that didn’t fruit, the last of my purple cabbages, strawberries, red currants, and a pumpkin plant. I’ve done well this year.

    ***

    Other news,

    I was approached by Johanna from Field of Women, asking if I’d let my readers know about the Field of Women LIVE event.

    It’s taking place on Friday, 7 May 2010 and will see 14,100 women and men standing together in pink ponchos to form the Pink Lady silhouette on the MCG in Melbourne, reflecting the number of women expected to be diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010. The event aims to raise awareness and much needed funds to support women diagnosed with breast cancer (BCNA is a unique not for profit organisation, its sole focus is on providing complete support for women who are diagnosed with breast cancer and their families). [lifted from the email there]

    If you’re in Melbourne or can get to Melbourne, why don’t you become part of the silhouette too?

    You can register to attend here, or if you’re not in Melbourne, you can do what I’ve done and mention it on your blog, or follow them on twitter to show your support.

    Posted in Amy, Blogging, Life.

  19. A MOUSE!!

    ‘MUMMY! A MOUSE!’

    Amy’s voice was quite shrill as she screeched at me from across the room.

    ‘MUMMY! A DEAD MOUSE!’

    And then she screamed.

    Amy is quite high pitched at the best of times, but when she screams, she gets even higher and angels weep and my ears bleed.

    I tried to stop her bouncing and squealing as I dealt with the mouse.

    ‘Amy, remember, you like mice.’

    It worked for the frogs, I figured, why not mice?

    ‘I do NOT like mice‘ she replied, loudly.

    Bugger. It was worth a try.

    She bounced behind me, giving out little squeals as I emptied the trap and reset it.

    Amy looked in the fireplace at the dead mouse, now waiting to be cremated.

    ‘Look Mummy! It is dead!’

    ‘Yes sweetheart, it’s dead’.

    ‘It’s a good mouse now.’

    Yes. Yes it is.

    Posted in Amy, Animals.

  20. Commence exhausted flopping about ….. now.

    I am exhausted. Completely and utterly beat.

    Mentally and physically.

    We had our Paeds appointment today (previous posts here and here) and really, they don’t like to give straight answers do they?

    The short results – both children are positive for the Coeliacs gene, but of course that is no guarantee to them actually getting coeliacs, the Paed was quick to point out, no matter that they both already HAVE symptoms of coeliacs AND a clinical diagnosis of such.

    He wouldn’t talk about the fact that Amy already gets horrendously sick on gluten, loses weight and is miserable. Or that Isaac stops sleeping, gets eczema and is miserable.

    Oh no, until you’ve got a biopsy in front of you with a positive result, no diagnosis.

    Which actually, is the same thing he seemed to think of the Ehlers Danlos. He threw around a lot of words like maybe and possible.

    Plus, way to get me annoyed, he said ‘the geneticists seem to think both children will develop Ehlers Danlos’. In hindsight, I am fuming at that statement and should have told him outright that unlike coeliacs, EDS is not something you ‘develop’. You either have it or you don’t and it gets worse.

    Arghh.

    It frustrates me that I seem to know more about EDS and the management thereof than the doctors we see.

    Sigh.

    So I am exhausted. Relieved that it’s nothing more than Coeliacs, but frustrated that I’m treated like a silly uneducated mother when I’m in the hospital with the kidlets.

    But yay! Upside!

    Posted in Amy, EDS, Food-Issues, Isaac.

  21. Happy Easter

    Here are some photos from my Easter weekend.

    Posting will be  a little light on for the next few days, I got a new computer and it’s lovely, however a new keyboard has confused my fingers, which thanks to the EDS are not the smartest at the best of times. I’m spending a lot of time pressing the wrong buttons and backspacing – only to get frustrated and give up.

    But uh, Happy Easter!

    Laughing

    Isaac

    The Culprits

    Guitar

    Blossoming

    Playing

    Bells

    For more photos, see Lotus.

    Posted in Amy, Isaac, Life.

  22. Siblings

    They’re fighting. Again. It’s not all sunshine and roses, or giggles and playtime.

    Isaac has stolen her blocks and crawled away at the speed of light, while she whines high enough to make the dogs prick their ears up and chases him. He clutches the blocks to his chest while I growl at her to share and you’ve got plenty of blocks, give your brother some to play with.

    She hands him off a few blocks and he gives them back with a ‘Here!’ and claps, proudly. She takes them and he waits for her to give them back and continue the game. Only she is three and she wants the blocks for herself, so she doesn’t.

    He pouts and tries again, stealing all of her blocks and crawling away, one in each hand, giggling.

    She chases him and bonks him on the head with her tower.

    Time outs are given, just as she starts to whine again.

    Somehow, Isaac has lost his pants in the last 5 minutes – I know he was wearing them a moment ago, but he’s bare legged now. I suspect Amy helped him wiggle out of them, she is constantly ‘helping’ him. Including helping by not letting him eat his breakfast because ‘he has had enough to eat now Mummy’ as she steals the plate and eats its contents herself.

    He comes to seek solace in my lap, his head snuggled under my chin and our breathing intertwined.

    Only for a moment though, before he crawls away and I stand to find him clothes for the day.

    ****

    mummytime

    I am also part of Brenda’s blog flogging group, which is nicer than any other kind of flogging I can think of.

    Posted in Amy, Isaac.

  23. A Nest

    Pillows? They’re awesome.

    Especially when they’re a nest in the middle of the lounge room.

    These kids are devoted to each other. Isaac tantrums when Amy goes to bed of a night time and he’s not allowed into her bedroom and Amy, well, Amy woke up this morning and Isaac was still sleeping.

    ‘Mummy, I need Isaac’

    ‘You need Isaac?’

    ‘Yes. I need my boy.’

    ‘He’s sleeping still.’

    ‘OH NO! …. I can wake him up?’

    ‘No. He’s sleeping. He’ll be awake soon.’

    ‘Oh dear.’

    15 minutes later he woke up and we could hear him talking.

    ‘YAY! He is awake! Isaac is awake!’

    She ran to his bedroom.

    ‘Hello Isaac! You are awake! MUMMY! Come and get him out!’

    Like I said. Devoted.

    [Of course, they fight like cats and dogs too, Isaac is obsessed with pulling hair and Amy steals his bottles/food/toys constantly. However, they are united in the Bedtime Is Bad campaign and the Do Not Let Mummy Write campaign. Heh]

    Posted in Amy, Isaac.

  24. Talking about my breasts.

    ‘Mummy, you’ve got lovely boobies.’

    ‘Oh, thankyou.’

    ‘Yes, they’re very great. Your boobies are great.’

    I nod.

    ‘Boobies are for babies! And for Isaac. But oh dear, your boobies are empty now aren’t they?’

    ‘Yes, the milk is all gone now.’

    ‘Oh no! Don’t worry Mummy, the milk will come back.’

    ‘Yes, eventually.’

    [She rubs my boob and pokes it a bit]

    ‘Your boobies are very comfy. Like pillows. For babies.’

    She stops to think.

    ‘Yes. Your boobies are great.’

    ‘Thank you.’

    Kids are awesome.

    Posted in Amy, Life.

  25. Where did the time go?

    I’m fairly sure I had a baby here not too long ago. What on earth happened?

    Isaac at almost 14 months.

    For the record, I did not help him get on or off the plane/toy/push-along-thing.

    And Amy, for the love of chocolate, would someone PLEASE create a hairclip/hairtie that actually stays in her hair?

    Her fringe is almost long enough to get pulled back with the rest of her hair, but even then, the tie slides out her hair, it is that fine and silky. Have I mentioned she starts Kindergarten in 11 months? I think my tiny baby has disappeared.

    I know I blogged about it over on the (newly moved to it’s own domain) food blog, but look what I’ve got!

    Posted in Amy, Animals, Isaac.



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