. . . and that rhymes with P and that stands for PIANO!
We bought a piano today. I've always wanted a piano. I don't play, but I know how much a piano background would have helped me when I was starting oboe at the ripe old age of 14. The musical fundamentals that come from studying piano are good for any further musical endeavors, and the musical experimentation that one can do with easy access to a piano are also a huge plus. No reeds to soak! No strings to tune (well, not every time you play, at least)! You can just sit down and make music, voilà.
Knowing nothing about pianos, I was daunted by the idea of finding one to buy, then further daunted by the idea of having it moved. I was psychologically daunted by the shopping—I might as well have had sucker stamped on my forehead—and financially daunted by the possible price of the purchase and the moving. It's not like this was weighing on my mind given that at age five, Maddie and Riley are just now about ready for the possibility of lessons, but owning a piano was certainly one of those things that could have just ended up not happening due to my not wanting to figure it all out.
But then, today, we went back to church for the first time since June. I've missed church, but we've had a busy summer with lots of weekend travel or other obligations, and we've managed to go almost two months without going. The church yard sale was yesterday, and there were a few boxes of yard sale remnants around the front door for people to peruse and purchase.
Just inside the front door, at the back of the foyer, was the piano that is now our piano. It was just sitting there, with a sign on it, that was marked $500 with a strikethrough down to $350. I took mental note, then sat down for the service. All I thought about the whole service was that piano, though, and after services I asked around to see who might be able to give me the scoop. Turns out that the church has owned and cared for it for 40 years, and that it was the main piano for the religious education program and building for most (all?) of that time. The RE program has a new piano, so now this one, a Pease upright, needs a new home.
The chair of the music committee has personally cared for the instrument for some twenty-odd years, and he's getting a few things fixed up before it comes into our possession. Even better, it looks as though the director of the choir will be able to transport it for me if I can find some strong friends to help get it into the house. Fabulous.
I have a large piece of furniture that I'll need to get rid of in order to accommodate the piano, but I'll post that on Freecycle tonight and hope for the best. I'm just so excited! We'll have a piano! I would like to take lessons, too. I think it could be fun (and I'm sure at times frustrating) for the kids and I to learn something together. Yay! What a day, what a surprise.
21 August 2011
20 August 2011
Nature
There are certain things I'd worry about a lot more if I had only one kid. To put a finer point on it, there are certain things I'd blame myself for more if I had only one kid, or if I had two kids who were more alike.
Take food, for example. Tonight's dinner was smoked salmon (served cold), steamed white rice, nori wrappers, corn on the cob, and sliced watermelon. Upon seeing the dinner, Maddie exclaimed, "Oh! I LOVE seaweed!" She proceeded to eat a good number (four or five?) of salmon and rice wraps, most of her corn, and two slices of melon. Riley ate at least ten slices of melon, two servings of white rice, and, when asked to choose some kind of protein, a SmartDog. He's a vegetarian by choice, and his go-to proteins are any and all dairy, SmartDogs, hummus, raw almonds, eggs, and peanut butter.
My point here is that Maddie is an adventurous eater and a combiner. She'll try almost anything and likes all kinds of somewhat unexpected things. She has an especially keen taste for sour and bitter things. She loves to mix things together. When we go out to eat, my best strategy is to just order a meal for myself and share it with her.
My best strategy with Riley is to ask for a refill on the bread basket. He loves carbs, which Maddie could totally live without. He won't eat meat, Maddie's favorite food group. Grapefruit is his least favorite fruit, Maddie's top choice. He's a pretty healthy eater, Riley, but he's adverse to trying new things and he has a fairly limited repertoire.
If I had just Maddie, I'd be all about taking credit for having fed her a variety of foods from the very beginning and for not having catered to her whims when mealtime comes around. If I only had Riley, I'd wonder what I'd done wrong to create someone who is so limited in his preferences and so generally nervous about eating anything new.
As it is, I have them both and they've been presented with the same offerings. My only catering has been to accommodate Riley's preference not to eat meat. Otherwise, what's served is served, like it or lump it. And yet, two totally different palettes, one adventurous eater and one who falls somewhere on the spectrum of "picky."
I choose to draw the conclusion that I didn't have much to do with this outcome. I think Riley could be pickier if I let him dictate his meals and Maddie would try even more things if I were willing to take the time to broaden my quick meals repertoire. But in the end, I deserve no credit nor do I feel any failing.
Sleep is the same. Oh, how I wish Riley would sleep more, or at least later in the morning! But I've tried everything, and in the end, Maddie has always tended to need more sleep and sleep later and Riley has an internal clock like mine, which means he thrives on predictable to-bed and wake-up times.
It's easy as a parent, at least for this parent, to feel guilty about every little perceived negative or problem with one's kid. And it's sometimes equally easy to feel pride for every little positive and success. I certainly think that how kids are parented has some influence on their behavior and certainly on their world view, but having two rather temperamentally different children who have been parented in largely the same way at the same times in their lives has taken off some of the heat for me.
People often say that I'm lucky to have twins, and in many ways, I agree. This is one of the more selfishly practical ways in which I find having twins to be a boon.
And on that note, I shall now go assemble two desks from that pinnacle of consumerism: IKEA. I would make a lame joke that double the furniture assembly is a negative about having twins, but the truth is that I am one of those nutters who actually enjoys putting together IKEA's wares. So I guess it's just another reason to be happy about the twin situation.
Now just don't ask me about the first two years of the kids' lives. Those stories, at least the ones that were not already documented on this blog, are for another, perhaps less positive, day.
Take food, for example. Tonight's dinner was smoked salmon (served cold), steamed white rice, nori wrappers, corn on the cob, and sliced watermelon. Upon seeing the dinner, Maddie exclaimed, "Oh! I LOVE seaweed!" She proceeded to eat a good number (four or five?) of salmon and rice wraps, most of her corn, and two slices of melon. Riley ate at least ten slices of melon, two servings of white rice, and, when asked to choose some kind of protein, a SmartDog. He's a vegetarian by choice, and his go-to proteins are any and all dairy, SmartDogs, hummus, raw almonds, eggs, and peanut butter.
My point here is that Maddie is an adventurous eater and a combiner. She'll try almost anything and likes all kinds of somewhat unexpected things. She has an especially keen taste for sour and bitter things. She loves to mix things together. When we go out to eat, my best strategy is to just order a meal for myself and share it with her.
My best strategy with Riley is to ask for a refill on the bread basket. He loves carbs, which Maddie could totally live without. He won't eat meat, Maddie's favorite food group. Grapefruit is his least favorite fruit, Maddie's top choice. He's a pretty healthy eater, Riley, but he's adverse to trying new things and he has a fairly limited repertoire.
If I had just Maddie, I'd be all about taking credit for having fed her a variety of foods from the very beginning and for not having catered to her whims when mealtime comes around. If I only had Riley, I'd wonder what I'd done wrong to create someone who is so limited in his preferences and so generally nervous about eating anything new.
As it is, I have them both and they've been presented with the same offerings. My only catering has been to accommodate Riley's preference not to eat meat. Otherwise, what's served is served, like it or lump it. And yet, two totally different palettes, one adventurous eater and one who falls somewhere on the spectrum of "picky."
I choose to draw the conclusion that I didn't have much to do with this outcome. I think Riley could be pickier if I let him dictate his meals and Maddie would try even more things if I were willing to take the time to broaden my quick meals repertoire. But in the end, I deserve no credit nor do I feel any failing.
Sleep is the same. Oh, how I wish Riley would sleep more, or at least later in the morning! But I've tried everything, and in the end, Maddie has always tended to need more sleep and sleep later and Riley has an internal clock like mine, which means he thrives on predictable to-bed and wake-up times.
It's easy as a parent, at least for this parent, to feel guilty about every little perceived negative or problem with one's kid. And it's sometimes equally easy to feel pride for every little positive and success. I certainly think that how kids are parented has some influence on their behavior and certainly on their world view, but having two rather temperamentally different children who have been parented in largely the same way at the same times in their lives has taken off some of the heat for me.
People often say that I'm lucky to have twins, and in many ways, I agree. This is one of the more selfishly practical ways in which I find having twins to be a boon.
And on that note, I shall now go assemble two desks from that pinnacle of consumerism: IKEA. I would make a lame joke that double the furniture assembly is a negative about having twins, but the truth is that I am one of those nutters who actually enjoys putting together IKEA's wares. So I guess it's just another reason to be happy about the twin situation.
Now just don't ask me about the first two years of the kids' lives. Those stories, at least the ones that were not already documented on this blog, are for another, perhaps less positive, day.
18 August 2011
Speed
Life is all fast these days, all clichéd and fast. Summer, where have you gone? Kids, how are you already starting Kindergarten? Snick, how are you months away from turning 40?
I find myself without much to say, but wanting to come here and say nothing. The struggling continues, although it is letting up. A Facebook friend wisely commented that just when you can't take any more, you get your break, and that seems to be holding true. Work was complete pandemonium, then I got a bunch of stuff off my desk—not done, but on to the next cog in the wheel—and high-tailed it out for a five-day vacation with the kids and my mom and dad in Eastern Oregon. Gorgeousness. It smells so good out there, those pine trees with the sunshine and blue sky and lava rocks. I drank my coffee in the hot tub every morning after going running, took long walks with my mom in the evenings, let the kids eat sugary cereal and chips while watching movies, and read most of a book.
And yes, I was there with my mom and my dad. My stepdad was not there. Seems like it could be awkward, no?, to be there with my 35-years-divorced parents. But it was not; they have a real friendship, my mom and dad, for which I am grateful, and the kids and I delighted in their company.
We are back now, basking in the afterglow. Our re-entry to the real world after family camp was harsh and jarring, but this transition has been easier, thank goodness.
Work is still dicey. There's just so much to do. I'm glad I have a job, and there are many things I enjoy about my work, but I'm in a place right now where my shortcomings seem to be right on the surface for all to see and for me to witness. I try to take this as a learning opportunity, but it's hard to be Zen and positive and ready to grow all the damn time.
I had what would have been my seventh anniversary while we were on vacation. It was a nice day. It didn't feel any different than any other day, but I have had John on my mind a lot. On our way home from Eastern Oregon we stopped at state park for a picnic lunch. A group of about 20 Korean kids on some kind of organized tour were having their meal at the tables next to ours. One of them looked just like twelve-year-old John. The spitting image. It was kind of eerie, actually, and I kept staring at him, which I'm sure he found eerie in and of itself.
I went on a first date a few weeks ago, a very fun first date. My date asked me, "What are you looking for in a relationship?" and the question, which is perfectly reasonable, took me by surprise. Since then, I've been thinking about my marriage and what I miss about it—which we ended up discussing, as he's divorced—and also what I enjoy about being single. I didn't have a good answer for his question, whereas good is defined as well thought through. And after a few weeks of thinking about it, I still don't really know how to answer that. What I said was that if someone had asked me that right before I met John, I am certain that my answer would not have in any way reflected what I then got. Point being that you can think you know what you want, but all you can really be is open to the possibilities. Cop out? Maybe. But it's true for me, for now. Many days, I don't feel like I want to get married again. I'm overwhelmed by the idea of integrating another adult's life into my own, and into Maddie and Riley's. But I do miss some things: sharing a good passage from a book I'm reading, having someone who can give me perspective on things that I can't see anymore, being able to release some of the burden of making all the decisions all the time about everything to do with the house and the kids.
One thing I have learned a lot about in the past few years is being patient. (Mom and Erk: stop laughing.) Just as my wise Facebook friend said, you have to wait things out. When you think you can't go on, something will give. I have historically been a fixer, a people-pleaser. But I've learned that sometimes, even often, the best thing to do is just wait. Not that I always do that, but I have come to understand that it's a good choice. The right thing will either happen, or something will happen that will make the right way clear. Perhaps it's the same with relationships, or more generally with knowing what I want, what one wants, in a general sense.
I'm sure I'm overthinking it. I mean, it was a first date! I was just surprised by how little thought I'd given that question recently, and it's been interesting to try to sort it all out. The second date is this Thursday. I wonder what question I'll be stumped by this time?
I find myself without much to say, but wanting to come here and say nothing. The struggling continues, although it is letting up. A Facebook friend wisely commented that just when you can't take any more, you get your break, and that seems to be holding true. Work was complete pandemonium, then I got a bunch of stuff off my desk—not done, but on to the next cog in the wheel—and high-tailed it out for a five-day vacation with the kids and my mom and dad in Eastern Oregon. Gorgeousness. It smells so good out there, those pine trees with the sunshine and blue sky and lava rocks. I drank my coffee in the hot tub every morning after going running, took long walks with my mom in the evenings, let the kids eat sugary cereal and chips while watching movies, and read most of a book.
And yes, I was there with my mom and my dad. My stepdad was not there. Seems like it could be awkward, no?, to be there with my 35-years-divorced parents. But it was not; they have a real friendship, my mom and dad, for which I am grateful, and the kids and I delighted in their company.
We are back now, basking in the afterglow. Our re-entry to the real world after family camp was harsh and jarring, but this transition has been easier, thank goodness.
Work is still dicey. There's just so much to do. I'm glad I have a job, and there are many things I enjoy about my work, but I'm in a place right now where my shortcomings seem to be right on the surface for all to see and for me to witness. I try to take this as a learning opportunity, but it's hard to be Zen and positive and ready to grow all the damn time.
I had what would have been my seventh anniversary while we were on vacation. It was a nice day. It didn't feel any different than any other day, but I have had John on my mind a lot. On our way home from Eastern Oregon we stopped at state park for a picnic lunch. A group of about 20 Korean kids on some kind of organized tour were having their meal at the tables next to ours. One of them looked just like twelve-year-old John. The spitting image. It was kind of eerie, actually, and I kept staring at him, which I'm sure he found eerie in and of itself.
I went on a first date a few weeks ago, a very fun first date. My date asked me, "What are you looking for in a relationship?" and the question, which is perfectly reasonable, took me by surprise. Since then, I've been thinking about my marriage and what I miss about it—which we ended up discussing, as he's divorced—and also what I enjoy about being single. I didn't have a good answer for his question, whereas good is defined as well thought through. And after a few weeks of thinking about it, I still don't really know how to answer that. What I said was that if someone had asked me that right before I met John, I am certain that my answer would not have in any way reflected what I then got. Point being that you can think you know what you want, but all you can really be is open to the possibilities. Cop out? Maybe. But it's true for me, for now. Many days, I don't feel like I want to get married again. I'm overwhelmed by the idea of integrating another adult's life into my own, and into Maddie and Riley's. But I do miss some things: sharing a good passage from a book I'm reading, having someone who can give me perspective on things that I can't see anymore, being able to release some of the burden of making all the decisions all the time about everything to do with the house and the kids.
One thing I have learned a lot about in the past few years is being patient. (Mom and Erk: stop laughing.) Just as my wise Facebook friend said, you have to wait things out. When you think you can't go on, something will give. I have historically been a fixer, a people-pleaser. But I've learned that sometimes, even often, the best thing to do is just wait. Not that I always do that, but I have come to understand that it's a good choice. The right thing will either happen, or something will happen that will make the right way clear. Perhaps it's the same with relationships, or more generally with knowing what I want, what one wants, in a general sense.
I'm sure I'm overthinking it. I mean, it was a first date! I was just surprised by how little thought I'd given that question recently, and it's been interesting to try to sort it all out. The second date is this Thursday. I wonder what question I'll be stumped by this time?
04 August 2011
Struggling
John's dad has said of John's birth, "He had a hard time to come out." It hardly seems like a memorable quote, those ordinary words, so slightly syntactically off. But something about the expression on his Dad's face, his eyes squeezed shut, his head shaking slightly no from side to side, his hands squeezed into fists at his sides, made the difficulty of John's 10-pound, large-headed entry into the world so real. John and I used to say that to each other when we were dealing with something difficult, "This is a hard time to get through," "I'm having a hard time to deal with this," and so on. I wish John were here today so that I could say it to him, so that he could help me with my hard time, because I am, indeed, having a hard time of it right now.
I make no excuses for my hard time. Plenty of other people out there are having harder times, or would at least like a change of pace in the difficulties they are experiencing. I have my health, I have Maddie and Riley, I have a gorgeous new house, and I have a great job. I have lots of friends, I don't struggle financially, and the sun is shining.
Things are just hard lately. Work is overwhelming. There are projects and people and changes, to the point that it is hard for me to focus when I'm there and it invades my brainspace when I'm not.
It affects my parenting. I don't feel like my best self. Maddie and Riley continue to not sleep enough; they have dark circles and crabby attitudes and whiny voices. Melatonin has been a mixed bag; it seems to help Maddie go to sleep, which is good, but it has no effect on how late they do (or don't) sleep. I'm tired, too. We're all tired, and we take our crabby attitudes out on each other with our whiny voices.
Riley is engaged in an experiment called Truth versus Lie. More accurately, it's called Lie All the Time about Totally Dumb Stuff. Some of it is funny, like when he talks as though he's an expert on some totally random subject, but all of it is disturbing on some level. It's crazy frustrating to me to say, "Riley, did you dry your hands on a towel?" get the reply, "Of course, Mama," then look up and see that his dripping-wet hands by his sides. To my knowledge, he hasn't lied to me about anything big, but I feel like I can't trust his answer on anything, and it's an awful feeling. I've tried to talk to him about it, but he's unable or unwilling to articulate why he is doing this, and I'm flummoxed as to what it's all about. Attention-seeking? Maddie does tend to dominate my time, by sheer force of will. Normal, five-year-old experimentation and button-pushing? Maybe. Something else entirely? Could be, or a combo. It's exacerbated by the fact that my reaction to it appears to be out of line with what is happening, insomuch as it makes me fly off the handle and completely lose my cool.
Meanwhile, Maddie is very clingy and demanding with me. Despite the fact that, to my knowledge, I have never given her reason to doubt that I will return from anywhere I have been, she is obsessed with the idea that I might leave or not return. After she went to bed the other night, I took a bag of trash out to the can outside our back fence; when I got back inside (after an absence of under a minute, with the door left open) she was downstairs, panicked, looking for me. She'd heard me unlock the door and thought I was leaving her and Riley alone. She can't get enough of me; Riley, too, to a certain extent. After spending their whole lives in daycare and/or school, they both in the past month or so beg me to stay home every day.
I don't think it's any coincidence that all of this behavior coincides with our trip to family camp almost a month ago. We spent a week up on Orcas Island in the San Juans, doing nothing but spend time together. We slept in a sweet little cabin, ate meals in the dining hall, went to the beach every day, played games on the lawn, did crafts, stayed up late for campfire, and took naps every afternoon. We'd never in our lives had time like that together before. No work, no chores, no obligations. The night we got home from camp was miserable; I had a migraine, we were all super-tired, and on some level, we all knew that the next day was back to the endless logistical machine of life that seems to allow us little time to enjoy each others' company.
As a person, it can be hard for me to be in the moment; I'm always thinking about the chores that need to be done, what's coming next, what appointments need to be made, what food needs to be cooked, how I can prepare for what the next day will bring. Being a single parent exacerbates this tendency as I'm, for the most part, the only one who can take care of these things. Don't get me wrong: Zulma, family, and friends help out a lot. But the logistics of life fall to me, and Maddie and Riley get the short end of the stick. I'm constantly multitasking and trying to make chores fun. While this is not inherently bad, it does mean that I rarely feel like I give the twins my full attention, and often the attention I do allocate to them is not my best self.
This is not me beating myself up. This is simply an acknowledgment of our imperfect reality. And, to a certain extent, my wish that I could shift to an alternate, if equally imperfect, reality. I'm at a point where I wish I could be home more. As the kids start full-time school, I wish I could be the one who dropped them off and picked them up each day. I love the thought of taking them to their lessons and sports practices, of having more than 20 minutes to cook dinner together on the nights we don't have something else scheduled, of just getting more breathing room than the two hours at night and the two hours in the morning. I don't doubt that part of the reason they get up so early is that they want to spend more time with me. It saddens me that they crave that time even though I'm not much fun at that hour, despite my best efforts.
It's just a hard time to get through. We all seem to be unhappy with our current arrangement, but I haven't taken the space to see how I can try to fix it. My hairdresser said to me last night, after acknowledging similar struggles with her kids, that her mom has called this age the "I hate you, don't leave me" age. Yes, they can be sweet as pie, but they also seem to simultaneously not want you to go anywhere, but want to use you as their outlet for negativity. The literature would say that this is because they feel safe. Great. Age appropriate, perhaps. Combined with other forces, likely. It's just a hard time, a hard time.
I make no excuses for my hard time. Plenty of other people out there are having harder times, or would at least like a change of pace in the difficulties they are experiencing. I have my health, I have Maddie and Riley, I have a gorgeous new house, and I have a great job. I have lots of friends, I don't struggle financially, and the sun is shining.
Things are just hard lately. Work is overwhelming. There are projects and people and changes, to the point that it is hard for me to focus when I'm there and it invades my brainspace when I'm not.
It affects my parenting. I don't feel like my best self. Maddie and Riley continue to not sleep enough; they have dark circles and crabby attitudes and whiny voices. Melatonin has been a mixed bag; it seems to help Maddie go to sleep, which is good, but it has no effect on how late they do (or don't) sleep. I'm tired, too. We're all tired, and we take our crabby attitudes out on each other with our whiny voices.
Riley is engaged in an experiment called Truth versus Lie. More accurately, it's called Lie All the Time about Totally Dumb Stuff. Some of it is funny, like when he talks as though he's an expert on some totally random subject, but all of it is disturbing on some level. It's crazy frustrating to me to say, "Riley, did you dry your hands on a towel?" get the reply, "Of course, Mama," then look up and see that his dripping-wet hands by his sides. To my knowledge, he hasn't lied to me about anything big, but I feel like I can't trust his answer on anything, and it's an awful feeling. I've tried to talk to him about it, but he's unable or unwilling to articulate why he is doing this, and I'm flummoxed as to what it's all about. Attention-seeking? Maddie does tend to dominate my time, by sheer force of will. Normal, five-year-old experimentation and button-pushing? Maybe. Something else entirely? Could be, or a combo. It's exacerbated by the fact that my reaction to it appears to be out of line with what is happening, insomuch as it makes me fly off the handle and completely lose my cool.
Meanwhile, Maddie is very clingy and demanding with me. Despite the fact that, to my knowledge, I have never given her reason to doubt that I will return from anywhere I have been, she is obsessed with the idea that I might leave or not return. After she went to bed the other night, I took a bag of trash out to the can outside our back fence; when I got back inside (after an absence of under a minute, with the door left open) she was downstairs, panicked, looking for me. She'd heard me unlock the door and thought I was leaving her and Riley alone. She can't get enough of me; Riley, too, to a certain extent. After spending their whole lives in daycare and/or school, they both in the past month or so beg me to stay home every day.
I don't think it's any coincidence that all of this behavior coincides with our trip to family camp almost a month ago. We spent a week up on Orcas Island in the San Juans, doing nothing but spend time together. We slept in a sweet little cabin, ate meals in the dining hall, went to the beach every day, played games on the lawn, did crafts, stayed up late for campfire, and took naps every afternoon. We'd never in our lives had time like that together before. No work, no chores, no obligations. The night we got home from camp was miserable; I had a migraine, we were all super-tired, and on some level, we all knew that the next day was back to the endless logistical machine of life that seems to allow us little time to enjoy each others' company.
As a person, it can be hard for me to be in the moment; I'm always thinking about the chores that need to be done, what's coming next, what appointments need to be made, what food needs to be cooked, how I can prepare for what the next day will bring. Being a single parent exacerbates this tendency as I'm, for the most part, the only one who can take care of these things. Don't get me wrong: Zulma, family, and friends help out a lot. But the logistics of life fall to me, and Maddie and Riley get the short end of the stick. I'm constantly multitasking and trying to make chores fun. While this is not inherently bad, it does mean that I rarely feel like I give the twins my full attention, and often the attention I do allocate to them is not my best self.
This is not me beating myself up. This is simply an acknowledgment of our imperfect reality. And, to a certain extent, my wish that I could shift to an alternate, if equally imperfect, reality. I'm at a point where I wish I could be home more. As the kids start full-time school, I wish I could be the one who dropped them off and picked them up each day. I love the thought of taking them to their lessons and sports practices, of having more than 20 minutes to cook dinner together on the nights we don't have something else scheduled, of just getting more breathing room than the two hours at night and the two hours in the morning. I don't doubt that part of the reason they get up so early is that they want to spend more time with me. It saddens me that they crave that time even though I'm not much fun at that hour, despite my best efforts.
It's just a hard time to get through. We all seem to be unhappy with our current arrangement, but I haven't taken the space to see how I can try to fix it. My hairdresser said to me last night, after acknowledging similar struggles with her kids, that her mom has called this age the "I hate you, don't leave me" age. Yes, they can be sweet as pie, but they also seem to simultaneously not want you to go anywhere, but want to use you as their outlet for negativity. The literature would say that this is because they feel safe. Great. Age appropriate, perhaps. Combined with other forces, likely. It's just a hard time, a hard time.
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