August 26, 2011

This Week In FB Posts

We ran at a breakneck speed all summer.  That was not our intention, but somehow it happened that way.  Since school started last week, things have been so much more relaxed.  This slower pace has been strange and it's made for a weird week.  Or maybe it's just that when I try to slow down, my brain has too much time to create ridiculousness.  Here's a little look back at the week as documented by facebook statuses:

*today my daughter told me that her brothers are 1% evil and 99% hot gas.

*I know it's immature, but I find it comical that the name of the syrup we currently have in the house is called "morning delight".

*this morning I saw a mouse. And like every good cliched woman, I jumped up on the chair and started screaming. Then I grabbed a broom. Not sure what I thought I was going to do with the broom, but years of TV has taught me that a woman on a chair fearing for her life from said mouse must have a broom.

*while I was busy doing Miles' hair this afternoon, the other children thought it would be a good idea to empty a bottle of soap in the bathroom so they could "skate" to Lady GaGa music. God help them. Seriously- God, I mean it. You better help them.

*“Most men are very attached to their penises,”- a quote in our local paper today. Ummmm, duh?!

*When I asked the boys what they wanted to do today one said, "I wanna twy to poop in da gwass." The other said, "I wanna eat a gump stick". (not even sure what that is) Whoever said that kids lack ambition these days has obviously not met Noah and Miles.

*just watched the sunrise with Noah. What a blessing that boy is to me!

Have a great weekend everyone!  Hope you take the time to enjoy a sunrise and a gump stick or two!

August 25, 2011

Around Our House

A few of the things are going on around these parts recently...

This little lady started second grade last week.  It seems like yesterday that she was born and now she's reading chapter books and doing multiplication. 

This little guy starts school in about 10 days.  We took him to pick out a new "pack pack" and he is over the moon with his choice.

He also moved into a big boy bed.  And yes, his room is pink.  Sue me.

Noah's dino/nativity set obsession has now expanded to include Smurfs and fairies.  He is spending hours upon hours a day on these scenes of dinosaurs and "Jesus People".

My new bed and mattress came in and I am in love with it.  I can lay crosswise on the bed and there is still room for my husband in it.  I try not to be too materialist, but this bed is changing my life. I get in it as soon as the children are asleep and I lay there and think about how much I freaking love this bed.  My husband asked me if I was spending so much time in bed because I'm depressed.  He didn't understand that my pure happiness is what is keeping me bed ridden.  I have years and years of lost sleep to make up for.  Ahhhh... serenity.

No officer, they did not learn to treat babies this way from me...

I attempted to put some twists into Miles hair (which looked awesome, but only lasted for 3 days).  I wanted the twists to dry lying down and didn't have one of those fancy nets that they use at the salon, so the boy got his head wrapped in a clementine orange produce bag.  It worked remarkably well even if he did look like rescued wildlife tangled up in litter for a few hours.

And lastly, here's a shocker for ya-
Yes is does.  Yes it does.

August 23, 2011

The Anatomy of a Haircut

Yesterday I went for a haircut.  I put on a dress and dropped the boys off and got a giant diet soda and headed to the salon.  I love love love getting my hairs cut.  I love sitting and gabbing with Maggie, my hairdresser about all the latest reality sleaze.  We are both junkies and it's nice to be in like minded company.  Midway through my transformation, we realized that maybe we should have taken pictures to document the process.  But, though I am usually shameless, I will not pull out my camera phone and take pictures of myself all up in public for the sake of blogging about them later. ( I reserve that kind of behavior for my house)  But never fear, I'm documenting the whole thing right here in homemade pictures.  This is my before shot:
I was ready to ditch my blond highlights in favor of a fall hue.  If I could remember what my natural hair color was, it probably resembles something like that.  I got wrapped up in the cape. I think it's awesome that they recognize that I am a mother freakin' super hero and dress me accordingly when I get to the salon.  Plus, since I had on a dress and thus copious amounts of anti-chaffing gel between my dimpled thighs, I didn't have to try to sit cross legged while my legs slipped off of each other.  I could sit spraddled out underneath the cape and no one was any the wiser.

Me in my cape.  It is not monogrammed except for in my dreams.  SM for Super
Megan or Sip Margaritas or Screw Matthew McConaughey- take your pick. 

Then comes the color.  Now- blond girls don't have to deal with this, but us brunettes do. 
It is a phenomenon that I call "face poop".  It is where the brown color from your hair ends
up all over your forehead and you have giant brown globs of goop all over you. 
One of these times, I hope it drips in a perfect V and I can pretend to be an old school
Dracula with a freaky pointy hairline. But usually it just looks like face poop.
Then come the foils.  Oh my Lord.  Whoever decided that putting tin foil on one's head while coloring one's hair must have been high.  That is the only explanation.  And we DO IT happily!  And we feel like we are PAMPERING ourselves!  Putting on aluminum helmets in the name of pampering?  Maybe we are the ones who are high.  I'm just sayin'.

Then there is the rinsing, washing and actual cutting to take care of.   I told my hairdresser that I wanted bangs like Farrah from Teen Mom.  God help me that I'm taking my fashion cues from a girl whose only claim to fame is that her reproductive organs work.  Then we discussed Teen Mom at great length.  Isn't that what responsible adults do when they get together? 

As for the cut, I chose a picture out of a magazine while I was sitting in the chair. I said, "Ooooh! I kinda like this!" Then I realized that it was a picture of Leeza Gibbons. God help me again. Bangs from an 18 year old reality star and a haircut from a really old washed up TV reporter with boobs that are way too perky for her age.  Some people ask for the "Rachel" or the "Victoria Beckham".  Me?  I ask for the Leeza.  *sigh*

I walked out of there a whole new woman with my Leeza haircut and my Farrah bangs.  I'd take a real picture of myself but when I came home, that microscopic zit I mentioned in the first picture, beckoned me after staring at in the mirror for nearly two hours while I got my ears lowered.  I couldn't help it.  I tried to resist it's shiny redness calling out to me, but I was weak.  I poked and prodded and otherwise made a giant mess of my whole left cheek. I tried to put concealer on it, but it only served to highlight the crater on my face. So the best that you get from my makeover is this:

But that giant, goofy smile I have in every picture?  It never left my face because in my dreams my perfect afternoon is spending two kid free hours in a super hero cape.  Mission accomplished.

August 19, 2011


The highlight of my day today?  Hearing my grandmother read the same Peter Rabbit book to my boys that she read to me when I was a little girl.  And probably the same one as when my mom was a little girl.  The book is held together by tape and a prayer and she still reads it with the same voices and inflections as she did 25 years ago.  Thank you, Lord, for family.

August 18, 2011

He Won't Have A Video

Lately, the big kids have been wanting to watch our home movies of their starts at life.  Sadie's video starts with a big, pregnant, 22-year-old scared me getting ready to leave for the hospital.  You can see worry written all over my face as I try to smile and do belly poses for my husband behind the camera.  My husband did hourly video updates of me laying in the hospital bed trying to get a giant baby out of my body until I "politely" smiled at him and told him that it was no longer necessary to have the camera in my face.  The next shot is of wiggly baby with a giant mop full of jet black hair being cleaned up and weighed and being attended to by a slew of capable nurses.  Then you see the camera "walking" down the hall as the mister goes and tells a whole room of waiting family that we had a baby girl (which had been a giant surprise!).  Cheers erupt and then the whole crew piled into the delivery room to take a peek at the newest member of the human race. There was so much fanfare.  Everyone rejoiced at the birth of that little lady.  She was so wanted and loved from the very minute we found out about her.  There were hours of videos that followed of us walking Sadie in the door of our first little house, documenting her first bath, first feedings and hours upon hours of us just staring at her marveling at her amazement.

Noah's birth was a little bit different.  I was in labor for what seemed like days on end.  He was sunny side up and didn't seem to care too much about making an appearance in the world.  By ten o'clock that night we realized that he wasn't going to be coming at any decent hour and we sent all of our family and friends home.  They would have stayed because they love us so much, but we were tired and decided that if we were going to get any rest at all during what seemed like an endless labor than we probably ought to send the fan club home at bedtime.  That little bundle came into the world in the middle of the night- screaming and kicking and being a booger.  But man oh man, he was cute.  In our video, Kamron turned the camera on himself after first laying eyes on our new son and his face, though tired, is so full of love for that new little bundle.  For days and days at the hospital, there was a steady stream of visitors and well wishers to celebrate his coming with us. Then we brought him home and fussed over him and little Sadie spent long amounts of time picking out his clothing and teaching him how to play dolls.  He was also loved from the minute that little plus sign turned blue.  They love watching those moments unfold on the videos that we took of them.  They treasure them and we all oooh and awe over how little and cute they were.

We were talking about some of our favorite parts of those old home movies in the car the other day.  All of a sudden Sadie said, "I wonder if Miles will be sad that he doesn't have movies from when he was born."  My heart jumped up in my throat.  I tried to smile a sad little smile at her to let her know that sometimes life just isn't fair, but I found myself fighting back tears.  For the first time, I realized that I've never even tried to imagine what Miles looked like as a baby.  In my mind, time started at that referral picture.  That is how he is etched in my mind.  I know that he went through a lot to get to that point of referral, and I haven't blocked that out, it's just that I never tried to imagine what he looked like.  I think it made it too real.  We don't share most of what we know of Miles' story with very many people.  That story belongs to him and when and if he wants to tell it, he can make that choice.  But as I thought about those circumstances, I wondered how his life could have been so different.  I wonder if his mom had had the resources and the system in place that she needed would that little boy have been adored and loved on and cared for.  Would she have lovingly recorded his firsts and beamed with pride and thought to herself that surely a cuter and smarter baby has never existed?

I never think of my son as lucky.  In fact, I cringe when people say that to him.  If losing your mom and dad and brothers and sisters and culture and country in a traumatic fashion is lucky, then sure, chalk him up in the lucky category.  I never lamented the fact that I missed those key firsts in my son's life.  Perhaps its the fact that I'm not a "baby person".  Or perhaps it's that I just prepared my heart for his life to begin at age 2 when we got him and not dwell on the rest.  But the past sneaks in.  While there is healing (oh my goodness, there is SO much healing) the past has a way of weaving in and out of our daily lives.  Sometimes it is just a shadow sitting quietly in the corner and sometimes it is a cloud over the whole house.  Sometimes the past gets celebrated when I get a giant hug from that precious boy and I remember the day when he wouldn't do that.  We rejoice in the fact that those memories of the past are fleeting and that every now and then the passing of time is like a salve.

And then there are times when we grieve that past.  We have tried hard to allow our son the space and time that he needs to grieve the losses that he's experienced in his life.  He's done it in his own way and sometimes we've tried to show him new ways to cope.  But I never felt like I needed to grieve until that moment in the car when my daughter reminded me that we don't have any memories to give to Miles.  I have to grieve the fact that I will never know what my beautiful son looked like as a baby.  Even when I close my eyes and try to imagine it, I can't.  The image won't unblur.  I never thought that it would bother me, but it does.  It bothers me because it is not supposed to be this way.  I won't be able to tell him how we stared at him for hours while he laid in his bassinet or how he squirmed during his first bath or tell his girlfriend's that he was bald when he was born.  And that breaks my heart.  For him.  And, selfishly, a little for me.  My biological children have this documentation of all of their milestones in those first crucial years and that is a gift that I can't give my Miles. We want to give our children the world and keep them from harm, but sometimes that is just out of our reach.  I can only hold him and tell him that we wanted him so badly and love him so dearly and hope that that is just enough to make the hurts tolerable when the hurt comes.  I won't count the losses.  I'll acknowledge them, give them their moment and continue forward making new memories that he can look back on for years to come.  I can't give him a birth video, but I can help him find the beauty and uniqueness in his own story.  Because sometimes that's all we can do.

August 15, 2011


In the flurry of the busyness that is everyday life, I realized last Thursday that our family had been an entire week without eating dinner all together.  I had been out of town for a few days and when I got back my financial advisor of a hubby was working long hours putting out fires with the stock market going haywire.  Dinner together is something that we don't skip- in fact, it is something that I consider vitally important, even if we all just end up eating a bowl of cereal at the same time.

When I was growing up, we always had family dinners together.  I'm not sure how my mom did it.  Between swim practice and my dad owning his own business I think it was sometimes 8:00 or 8:30 before we all sat down together.  But my mom made it happen every single night and I love her for it. 

So when I realized that we'd been way too long without some togetherness, I staged an intervention.  The mister came home from work and we loaded into the car telling the kids that we were going on an adventure.  We picked up a pizza (because Martha Stewart with a picnic basket I am not!) and took it to a local park to eat.  We pulled up to the park and lo and behold their were hot air balloons launching about 50 yards from the picnic tables.  I knew then that it was going to be a great night! 

Noah was overly excited waving at the balloons!
There was playing and giggling and swinging and happiness. 
Then we tossed on their bathing suits and let the kids run like wild things on the splash pad.  They were so excited and several times I thought, "I want to freeze them.  Just like this.  Just at this very age and stage of each of their lives."  It seems like though the days are long sometimes, that the weeks and months are passing by with the speed of a locomotive.

Our dinner intervention was so much fun.  I'm thinking it needs to become a routine until the weather turns too cold to do it anymore. It was a reminder to me that most of the other things that consume my time and attention really don't matter.  Who cares if my inbox goes unread or my house is not perfect or I buy cookies for a party instead of making them from scratch?  These very moments are the ones that matter the most and they are too important to miss.  It's one of those things that you always know in your core, but sometimes you need a reminder to bring it back into practice.  I'm trying to practice, trying to balance, trying to slow down and savor... trying, trying, trying...

August 12, 2011

Seven going on Seventy

As my daughter gets older and older, I try to include her less and less on this blog for a couple of reasons.  One, because she can read- and two, because she's finding her own way in the world and I don't want to embarrass her to death.  But lately her way with words has been cracking me up and I just have to document it for our old age. 

A few months ago, Sadie became a Hallmark cliche.  She likes to write cards for people and she tries her very hardest to come up with things that sound very poetic.  Even though she's only seven, she's come up with some humdinger wisdom.  Like the time she made a birthday card for my grandmother's 74th birthday.  The front of the card said in giant letters, "HOPE COMES, HOPE GOES.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY."  Which to me was just a fancy way of saying, "Dude.  Your old and it's hopeless.  But I hope it's a good day anyway."  It was so morbid that I had to issue a warning to my Granny before she even read it.  But Sadie was convinced that it was the most beautiful sounding saying that she'd ever created so we let it slide.

Fast forward to this week.  She's putting her poetry skills to the test again.  She and Noah have decorated their ceiling with notebook scribblings.

Noah's are just blotches of color, but Sadie is trying to achieve world peace with hers.  They say things like:

Seriously- how does she come up with this stuff?  And what does it really even mean?
Love is the biggest word?  I'll have some of what she's having.

She and John Lennon could have written some great songs together.

And my very favorite- just to prove that she is still a little girl...

Kamron and Megan sitting in a tree.  K-I-S-S-I-N-G...  'cause you know, hubs and I climb trees and make out in front of our kids ALL THE TIME! 

Perhaps she'll be a Nobel Peace prize winner.  Or a fantastic teacher.  Or someone who never wears deodorant and sits around a campfire singing Kumbaya all day.  Who knows?  But for now, she's being the best toothless wonder and lovey eyed dreamer she can be. 

August 10, 2011

The One Where I Drop Names Like A Bad Habit

I'm home from San Diego and it seems weird that no one is giving me a swag bag full of crap when I walk around the corner.  The BlogHer conference is truly one of the weirdest things around.  It is full of about 3,500 women who blog about all sorts of craziness.  I met pet bloggers and garden bloggers and s.ex bloggers and tech bloggers and on and on.  But the weirdest thing is that there are a whole lot of egos at this conference.  To me, it is hilarious.  I am a total pee on in this world of blogging, but there are people there who actually can pay their mortgages and send their kids to college on the money they make from blogging.  And those people gripe and moan all over twitter about how their big giant private parties suck, or so and so didn't recognize me and it feels very high school all over again.  BUT- if you just skip over those people, then the whole thing can be utterly wonderful.  I learned a lot and met a whole lot of really interesting people.  Like who, you may be asking yourself?  Well... for one... Bob Harper from the Biggest Loser.
Ahhh, Bob- Bob who I'm pretty sure is not into women but I'd chase after anyway.  This is the juncture in the conference where I wanted to ask Bob to take off his shirt and make his boobies dance, but alas, I was all tongue tied and just managed to make a little guttural noise that resembled a giggle and then ran away as soon as the picture was snapped.  I may have muttered "thanks" or something like that but then I berated myself for a good hour about how I ate a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast and how Bob probably wouldn't approve.  And the dorky cardigan?  Damn it.  I should have worn something slinkier and more ho bag-ish like stilettos and a shredded shirt with my bra sticking out.  Unfortunately for me (and Bob) I left my shredded bra at home. Had I only known... 

Then I met Giuliana Rancic from the E! Network.  It's no secret that I am a Kardashian junky and since they are on the same network together, I can, with no qualms now say that through one degree of separation that Kim Kardashian and I are now BFF's.  I told Guiliana how brave I think that she is for sharing her infertility journey with the world and she was very gracious and sweet and posed for a picture with me.  However, there was one small problem.  Guiliana is no less that 7 feet tall.  She weighs probably 80 pounds soaking wet.  In fact, I'm surprised that she can even stand upright because I'm not sure how her little legs hold her up.  So- add that, coupled with the fact that I am short and a little pudgy and was sweating profusely and the picture was pure crap.  Do you remember those talking trash heaps that were on that old show, Fraggle Rock?  I looked like one of those trash heaps.  A trash heap with a near nip slip since somehow my dress had gotten all twisted in my effort to shed all my bags to snap the shot.  So I am burying that picture because it wrecked my self esteem.  Instead, I'll show you my rendering:
 I talked to Ricki Lake about doing a show about the women and children in Congo for her new talk show that launches this fall.  I think she may consider it!  And then I saw the biggest celebrity of all:

Buddy the Dinosaur from Dinosaur Train.  Holy Moly- my boys think I am so cool now!  But the very best part of the whole weekend was connecting with real people.  I got to spend most of the first day with Kristen Howerton from Rage Against The Minivan.  She's an adoptive momma and we'd met several times before but never gotten to really talk.  We stood in line together to get into a party so we got to gab about all kind of things. Kristin collects a little entourage wherever she goes because she's kinda famous.  So I'm not sure who the girl on the left of this picture is except to say that she was a fan of Kristen's.  Seriously- walking around with Kristen is like walking around with Bono. She's like the rock star advocate of the blogging world.

The biggest surprise of the whole conference for me was meeting Christy.  We connected on Twitter before the conference and she invited me to dinner with a big group of girls.  Those women were all amazing and we had so much fun sharing meals together all weekend.  It made the conference just a bit smaller and more intimate for me.  Meeting great people and staying connected is way more fun for me than going to private parties and schmoozing with big corporations.  Although, I ain't gonna lie- the swag from this conference is ridiculous and it's fun to come home with all of it and feel just a tiny bit more important that you really are.
 Christy and Me.  My pictures from the weekend are of stellar quality, aren't they!?

I love going on adventures like that, but it is oh -so-nice to be home again with family!  I think that the littles were happy to see me.  They assured me that daddy made them brush their teeth every day and only one of them got a travel checkers piece stuck up their nose, so all in all, it was a success on the home front as well!  Maybe that means I need to travel a little more often?  Hmmm... Vegas anyone?

August 05, 2011

From the Vault

I'm away this weekend at the crazyness that is the annual BlogHer Conference in San Diego. I'm having a ridiculous amount of fun, meeting tons of interesting people and learning lots, but I'm missing my munchkins! They are each going through some really cute stages right now. Today's post is one from the vault designed to remind me of why I needed and deserved this break! Enjoy!

An Open Letter To My Children:

Dear children,

It goes without saying that I love each of you immensely. I love each of you for vastly different reasons, since you are all such neat, little people with your own big personalities. I may be biased, but I think that you are three of the most beautiful children in the world. You are amazing, you are wonderful, you give my life so much purpose, blah, blah, blah.

Now that that is out of the way, let's get down to business. I am laying out some new rules around here. The following are effective immediately.

1. My name is Mom. Not mooooo-ooooom. Not momm-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Nor any other variation where you whiningly exaggerate any part of my name. If you expect me to answer, you may call me "Mom" "Mommy" or "Your Majesty" from here on out.

2. I am not a short order cook. If you want to eat, you will eat what I cook when I cook it. Do not say "Gross, will you make me some chicken nuggets instead?" The answer is "NO!" I am not McDonald's.

3. Do not complain to me that your favorite purple shirt, dinosaur pajamas, or cozy jeans are not clean. You are welcome to do the laundry anytime you like.

4. Some toys can not be glued back together. Don't freak out about it, just stop breaking stuff to begin with.

5. You may not have friends over every single day. I don't care how much you cry and talk about how bored you are. I am not a babysitting service for stray children!

6. This one is just for Miles: DO NOT SPIT! One of these days I may just surprise you and spit back. And I spit like a cobra- look out. You've been warned,

7. Banish the words, "He hit me," "Can I have a snack, again" "He's poking me!" and "You never let me do anything fun!" from your vocabulary. Those words serve no purpose except to make Mommy blow her stack real quick.

8. When you see smoke start to come out of my ears and eyes- RUN! Do not stick around and keep pestering me.

9. Do not throw a fit when it is green shirt with yellow polka dots and blue stripes day at school and I refuse to go buy you a new outfit to fit into the corresponding color day. I will gladly cut out construction paper polka dots and stripes and safety pin them to your shirt, but I will not go buy a new one.

10. Do not ask me for a quarter every time you see a machine full of junk at the exit to a restaurant. If I have to pick up one more tiny man attached to a defective parachute or one more plastic ring that is split in half, I will scream.

11. You must use toilet paper when you go to the bathroom. When I walk in the bathroom and see a "surprise" left in the toilet and no toilet paper, I will get suspicious. Do not lie to me when I ask if you wiped your butt.

12. When I say, "Come here, let me wipe your nose/change your diaper/give you your medicine/clean your face", do NOT run in the other direction. I will hunt you down. And even though I am old and 25 pounds overweight, I will beat you in a foot race around the living room any day of the week.

13. Don't run away with my cell phone. I know that playing "Angry Birds" on the iPhone is super fun, but it is mine and I don't share my technology very well.

14. If I find any more of those plastic popsicle wrappers in inappropriate places, I will make a lifelong permanent ban on popsicles. Just FYI- life can go on without popsicles. You will not die. I promise.

15. Stop beating the crud out of each other while I am on the phone. The phone ringing is not your cue to become Kung Fu warriors.

16. Do not wipe your nose on the couch. Or the bedspread. Or the bathmat. Or in my hair.

17. When you spill something on the carpet, please tell me. I will gladly help you wipe it up. Do not pretend like it didn't happen and then 3 days later confess when I freak out that our whole house smells like mildew.

18. My checkbook is not a drawing pad. Neither are the walls, the refrigerator or the cabinets.

19. The living room curtains are not tug-o-war ropes. Do. Not. Touch.

20. Last but not least: Stop growing up. Stay little. Stay sweet and innocent. I love you all just the way your are at just the ages you are right this minute. This may be the hardest rule to follow, but try really hard on this one, okay?


Mom (aka- Your Majesty)

August 02, 2011

Kentucky Caviar Recipe (aka- my FAVE new salsa!)

My sweet friend Natalie brought some homemade salsa to a picnic this weekend that was the bomb dot com.  I craved it all day yesterday before I finally begged her for the recipe (which she so graciously let me share with everyone!)  I think that it is the perfect summer food- everything is in season, it doesn't require you to turn on the oven, and it's a great way to get your vegetables in!  I think that today, I'll enjoy it on chips and tomorrow I'll scoop it into a pita.  It is well worth the carpal tunnel you will get from chopping up all the vegetables.  Enjoy!

Kentucky Caviar
Chop/dice the following into a large bowl:
1 Green Pepper
1 Red Pepper
1 Yellow Pepper
1 Orange Pepper
1 bunch of green onions
1/4 cup fresh cilantro (remember a little bit of cilantro goes a long way!) 
2-4 tomatoes
1-3 ears sweet corn cooked and cut off of cob

Then add:
1 can black eyed peas rinsed and drained
1 can white hominy rinsed and drained
1 can black beans rinsed and drained
3 T lime juice - I chopped 2-3 limes in half and squeezed over entire mixture
Salt to taste
stir, cover, and chill at least 8 hours before serving

Enjoy! This will feed an entire neighborhood, so be all Kentucky y'all and share it around!

August 01, 2011

Mugshot Monday

I took the kidlets to the bookstore tonight to kill a little time.  I was checking out with a copy of Ramona Quimby, Age 8 (I LOVE my daughter's taste in books!) when the boys said, "Mom!  Look over here!"  I turned around to see the most adorable, little nerds I've ever seen. This is also further proof that Miles needs to be Steve Urkel for Halloween. 

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