Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Cowabunga Party, Dude!

We LOVE birthday parties in this house.

This year was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle theme.  What could be better?

The decor:





A peek inside the "sewer line" hallway:







The cookie cakes (all four of them!):



The kids' cups:


  The downstairs was set up like a dojo:
 






The costumes to use downstairs.  Every child got a roasting pan "shell" (with duct tape straps) and arm & headband cloths:





TJ made all the balloons himself:


As well as the greeter pumpkin on the front step:


Party menu (you know this is my favorite part):





                                                
 



Add one happy birthday dude...


and presents, and the party is complete!


Topher, we have SO much fun throwing your parties every year.  We love you more than we should possibly be able to fit into five little years with you.

Happy birthday, turtle boy.

--KC

Four Forever

The day before Topher's fifth birthday, he began getting upset.

I don't want to turn five, mommy.

Scapel to the chest.

I want to stay four forever.

Slicing deep. 
 Ignore the pain and promise Topher that five is a wonderful age to be.  
There are so many fun things to look forward to in the coming year.
Wipe away his tears and try not to dissolve into his quivering chin.

Well, mommy, when we get back to Heaven can you tell Jesus that I want to be four again?

Extract heart.
Stomp on it.
Yes, Topher, I will tell Him.  I promise.

The next day, we were able to have a wonderful little family celebration.  We ate out at Hickory Park.  We gave him some presents.  He started understanding that five didn't feel much different than four.  Five had some advantages.  Five came with gifts.

But secretly, if I could have stopped time the night before, right at that cusp between four and five, I would have.  Of course I would.

What a beautiful boy we have.  What a blessing the past five years have been.  

Watching Topher use his birthday gifts to practice his ninja skills helps peel my heart off the floor and squish it back inside.


But I also know that each birthday is a little reminder of what you cannot have back.  
And I know that part of my soul will always stay with my forever-four baby.

Happy birthday to the little boy we couldn't possibly live without.


Love, 
mommy

Friday, October 18, 2013

Fieldt Trip 2013: Pumpkin Patch

Because this time the pictures say enough:

Running to the bus:


Riding the tractor train:



Running through the hay maze:


Meeting all the new arrivals:



Story time:



Corn kernels:


Measuring chart:


Because mommy can't pose and take pictures at the same time:


Bean bag toss:



Skeeball:


Hay Mountain:






 Lining up to go home:


Choosing a souvenir pumpkin:


It was a beautiful, windy day and two hours on the pumpkin farm was a perfect use for the weather.

Happy fall!

--KC

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

THE loan, our personal hippo

There is an undergrad loan that has, since we exchanged rings, sat heavily in the corner of our marriage.  I think of it as THE loan, the unloved guest that never leaves.  Never does anything, in fact, except rudely grunt at us to remind us that he is still there.  Along the way he was joined by a smallish car loan and a decently-sized grad school loan.  Imagine a fat hippo flanked by a mean bobcat and a naughty Labrador.

Need a visual?  Here you are:





We got rid of the bobcat first, he was a little pesky.  Then we worked our tushies off and saved like the next Great Depression was tomorrow and finally we were able to send the lab off to a nice farm.  Forever.  

But that overweight hippopotamus, THE loan, never went anywhere. We never even touched him. Occasionally I would imagine poking him with a long stick, but he looked too grumpy to try it.  He was content to just wear out his welcome for the next decade or two, and his stench was becoming overwhelming.  And so for years we have been stealthily planning and dreaming of his demise.

Six years ago we downgraded to one car and a motorcycle.  A year and a half ago we sold the motorcycle.  We gave up cable.  We own one TV, and it has a 26" screen.  We very rarely eat out.  We found a bargain house in a neighborhood where we could envision raising our son.  It is not a "fancy" neighborhood, but it is a good one.  We made the choice to not buy a bigger house (though we qualified for more money) because we wanted to keep our mortgage as low as possible.  And even though I have made the commitment to stay home with my son, I have never turned down an opportunity to work from home.  I watch children part and full-time.  I groom dogs.  I work for an online company fulfilling orders.  Meanwhile, TJ works steadily at his job.  And all the while we are saving. We save our dollars, we save our cents, I watch the checkbook balance like a hungry hawk scanning the grass for mice. We pay our tithing first--always--and then we save the rest.  Sometimes we are able to add $200 into savings at a time, sometimes only $15.  But always we have to believe that it is building up to something significant.  After all, if you put a piddly $40 into savings 25 times in a row, you have accumulated a thousand dollars.  Now just do that again.  And again.  And again, etcetera and so forth.

A giant mountain made out of pebbles, but made nonetheless.


And now it is time.  We have raised the money, bit by honest bit.  We are ready to call in a crew, have them hoist the hippo onto a Medieval catapult, the timber groaning beneath its load, and then heave him far away from here.  Or maybe they will drop a half-dome over him and disintegrate him entirely in a muffled poof, leaving only a perfect black circle on our carpet.  I don't care.  The point is that we did it.  Never mind what else that money could have bought.  Never mind that we could have a bigger house or a brand new zippy car with all the upgrades.  None of that matters.  What matters is that we did it.  We have freed ourselves of all extraneous debt.  The shackles have fallen off.  Our mortgage is now our ONLY debt in the world.  No car payment.  Zero credit card balance.

And now...THE.  Loan.  Is.  Gone. 

I think it will take some getting used to.  I think that it's a bit like cutting the lumps off of a couple of hunchbacks; we will still walk stooped for awhile before we realize that we really can stand up straight.  We will still be frugal because it has become our nature, but every once in a while we just might remember that we can buy a little something here and there.  We can start saving for a second car.  We can save for a vacation.  We can save for the things we want to save for.  In short, we can start living our lives.  That hippo might haunt me for some time, but realizing that he is gone will be a sweet awaking I look forward to experiencing again and again.

We did not do this alone, not at all.  Heavenly Father gave us the ability and opportunity to make money, and we just had to put in the legwork.  The actual sweat.  And then not spend it.

That's the real trick, isn't it?  Overcoming that desire to bring home something new, whether it is big or small, whether it is a subconscious thought or whether you are fighting a real battle inside.  Squelching that urge to spend money hundreds and thousands and maybe even millions of times.  That's such a cute purse, and mine has a strap that is about to fall off.  I really need new pans, our non-stick ones have lost the ability to release food cleanly.  That picture would look so pretty above the couch.  The same couch that needs more pillows.  Some new ceiling fans would really update these rooms.  I want those socks.  And some shoes to go with them.  I would much rather order a pizza than revisit those leftovers.  My son would love that toy.  I want a treadmill.  I need new jeans, preferably a pair that has not come off a clearance rack.  I just need to stop denying myself, no one else seems to be editing their lifestyle.  When will this ever end?    

And each time:

take a deep breath,
crumple up the thought,
throw another pebble on the mountain.

Let me make something perfectly clear:

we are not destitute, we are resolute.

 We have money, we have just known all along that we were saving it for THE loan.  I could have been less of a martyr along the way, but I never wanted to prolong this moment.  We wanted to pay off this debt more than anything else, and so we did.  And it was not an easy thing to do.  At times I have been embarrassingly frugal.  I have felt downright defeated.  I have been fed up.  This was a hard thing to do, but now it is done.

The payment cleared last night.

And now that heavy-breathing hippo with his blobs of rolling fat doesn't live here anymore.  
You'll have to try next door.


I, meanwhile, will be the one dancing unabashedly in the street,
shoes flung far.  

--KC

Monday, September 30, 2013

It doesn't fit

It doesn't fit.

It's a pair of pants that digs in when I try to sit down, but I can't take them off.

I vacuum, and the canister barely collects any dust.

When I roll out of bed, I automatically watch my feet to make sure I don't step on any paws.

When I walk into a room, my ears strain to hear the thump-thump-thump of a tail wagging against the carpet.

When I cut the crust off of Topher's sandwich, I gather up the pieces in my hand and inhale, readying myself to call out her name.

But she isn't there and it doesn't fit.

I never realized the enormous silence she was always fighting off.  I never realized how sterile our home would feel without her.  I never really knew that she could leave.

It's silly, isn't it?  This is the inevitable ending of the story when you have a pet.  There is no magic spell to grant them youth eternal.  But I forgot to read ahead in the book.  I didn't want to.  And so I nearly forgot about the ending.  It surprised me, even though everyone knows the story by heart.  

And now that we are at the end of the book, it doesn't fit.  I've missed a step, and I keep stumbling.

I hope she is happy.  I hope that my Nana is feeding her table scraps and that my uncle is running with her on a beach somewhere.  I hope she knows that our family is not the same, that it will never feel quite right without her.

It doesn't fit, but we need to adjust to the new feeling, uncomfortable though it may be.  Or at least resign ourselves to it.


We love her, but she is not here to love, and it will never fit.

I miss my Sassy-pants.

 She was a perfect fit.

--KC

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Best Nine Years



Hand resting on a barrel-chest, buried in fur, feeling the labored pounding of a large heart.  Leaning in closer to smell the top of her head one more time, the perfect combination of puppies and hay.  Listening painfully to the rapid panting, wishing it could stop.  Terrified for it to stop.


Leaning in closer to whisper our love, but it was never a secret.  

You're a good girl.  You've never done anything wrong.  We were so lucky to be your family.  You're going to feel better soon.  Mommy is right here.  We love you, Sassy.  We love you so much.


Placing our son's hand over Sassy's paw.  Stroking those velvety ears again and again.



Feeling her body relax, and then the silence.  The silence that would spread from the building into our car and into our home and come to rest beside my bed, along the kitchen floor, down the steps of the deck.


A whole lifetime of memories crowding in to squeeze my heart too hard.  Watching her run on the beach, the purest joy I have ever witnessed.  Turning out the lights to watch a movie, and hearing her grab a squeaky toy and start chorusing for attention.  Carrying her like a baby through downtown Seattle.  Watching her delicately sniffing each flower along our walk.  Introducing her to snow, and watching the exhilaration of discovering what you were built for.  Nights crowded into bed with her.  Days spent in constant conversation to her.  Every meal attended with eager eyes.  Every cry attended by a warm face pressed to mine.  Every door opening overseen by a happy greeter.  Every interaction so ingrained into daily life that we feel thrown at every turn.  Her name jumping to my lips, my stomach clenching to stop myself.  Where is the body that leans against my legs?  Where is the face that I wake up to, leaning over my side of the bed, sniffing good morning?  Where is the happiness that roamed from room to room, from nap to nap?


Sassymuffin, for nine years we have been enamored with you.  You were our panda bear, our clown, our sweet little girl.  The most noble breed.  We watched you watching a grasshopper, then curiously put your enormous paw on it.  When you lifted your paw, he continued jumping away without a scratch.  You were born gentle, you lived gentle, and you will wait gently for us now.  Of that we are certain.


There has never been a better dog.  We thank our Lord for creating you, for sending you to us, and even for the pain we are feeling now.  It means you were real, and it means you changed our lives.  It means that we will clearly remember every detail of you until you lean into us again, and we won't have to remember anymore.





--KC



Monday, September 16, 2013

The First Game

Topher began his soccer career on Saturday.  

We were so excited.  We LOVED how he looked in his shin guards and soccer socks.



We got there at 10 am, right on time, only to find out that our coach told us the wrong time.  So we had to kill 3 hours (shopping and lunch), and by the time we got back to soccer at 1 pm, I could tell Topher was very tired.

But despite being rather timid with his kicks, he seemed fine during the warmup:



He was even fine into the game for awhile:


Was I worried about the ambient noise?  Yes.  But really, he was fine.

Until the crowd's first big cheer.  And then the first loud whistle.  Combined with the tiredness.

Meltdown.  Run out to the car and dig some ear plugs out of the glovebox.  They are adult size, so I tried my best to roll them up tiny and shove them into his ears.


It worked for a little bit.  Maybe too well, as he seemed to be in his own little world.  He couldn't hear the coach and he appeared to be dancing when all the other boys were fighting over the ball.  (This is when mommy slaps a hand to her forehead and shakes her head back and forth.)

But when finally, the ear plugs began to fall out and would not stay in, we had to give up.  He was inconsolable.  And then screaming when we carried him out.  I haven't seen him so upset and tired in a LONG time.  It was very sad. 


So we went home.  We rested in bed for 30 minutes until we were calm again.  We made a plan to make next week better.  We will do three things this week:

1.  Practice kicking the soccer ball out on a field with daddy
2.  Find child-size earplugs that reduce noise without creating total isolation
3.  Pray before the next game (this was Topher's idea and I love him for it)

So to recap our first foray into sports: show up excited, deflate when your game isn't for 3 more hours, get really tired waiting for it, play okay for awhile, meltdown at the loud noises, try to recover, meltdown again, leave the game early.

Topher, I'm sorry that was your first experience.  Sometimes a first try at anything can be a little rough, even for adults.  We will do better (all of us) next week.  I'm still--always--so proud of you.


Love, Mommy