WARNING: Immature Content. Not advised for those with manners or sense.

Dear Friends and Family,
Each year, I am overwhelmed by the enormity of distilling our year to its elements. 2023 meant that Dwayne and I now parent three teens (good), traveled only the west coast (sad), and have a new pet (mixed—we didn’t lose any of the previous ones).
A year ago, Wes was taller than only the cats. Now he looks down on both of his sisters, and I wear my poofball hair high to keep my height advantage a little longer. Wes also was our first child to break a bone in an unlucky fall at parkour[1]. However, as the child who would roller blade on my kitchen counters before he was 3 years old, the only surprise is that it took him so long. This year, he has mastered both making the ultimate grilled cheese sandwich (oh, I’m hungry just thinking of it) and sneaking in extra screen time whenever my guard is down. We alternate between butting heads and affectionate hugs. He loves his CAD classes and printing 3D models…which also involves copious amounts of screen time. And yet, somehow, our almost-14-year-old has muscles and a six-pack.
Since this letter is all about bragging rights, my teen driver has caused far more damage than your teen driver…and all while hitting stationary objects. Last summer, she fatally maimed my third longest love affair—the minivan. Kyla loves being in Running Start for her junior year, taking morning classes at community college and afternoon classes at the high school. As a calculus student, she has officially surpassed my ability to help her with math. Kyla did an outdoor adventure this summer that including hiking part of the Pacific Crest Trail and kayaking through the San Juan islands, loving everything that her siblings would hate. But her favorite thing this year was learning that the bouncing thing that she does is called stimming[2]; she now has a term to understand herself. She’s undergoing assessment to understand her neuro-diversity better, but regardless of results, she’s still going to be someone who needs multiple lifetimes to explore all her interests. This kid can do anything… except park in a small space.
The middle child, after upping her meds a bit, is actually doing really well. Piper still thinks people are generally unnecessary, but she is excellent with littles, and now babysits at the church during the week while she continues to work with the 3-year-olds on Sundays. She’s adding ceramics to her artistic skillset, and she loves doing set work for the high school theater. Piper imagines her future in a bright yellow car… to go with her sunny disposition? Putting her and Kyla’s brains together make them the duo you want to be in an escape-room with.
Piper brought changes to the household this year when she, through clever manipulation, slide presentations, and likely out-and-out lies, convinced us to let her get a bearded dragon. And, full confession, I ♥ him! Nugget (Nugs, Nuggie) is like the grandson I’ve never had. I buy him cute outfits, I snuggle with him, I bring him treats of arugula and crickets, and he rides around on my shoulder. He’s been an emotional-support pet for Piper. In contrast, she also has Timmy, who’s my mortal enemy, or at least his penis is. Timmy cat was supposed to die earlier this year of a urethra blockage, and I have the grave marker to prove it, but he pulled through again. He’s on his 8 ½ life, and I can’t find a vet who will chop off the offending part, because his editorial peeing is just a behavior thing. I would not countenance anyone I know putting up with a cat peeing all over their house, yet, here I am with my all my cleaning supplies. Future Adult Piper, know how much I loved you by dealing with your cat…but honestly, it’s getting to be a close call.
My parents celebrated their 50th anniversary (!) this year by renting a house for all of us in Whistler this last July. There’s 15 of us with spouses and grandchildren, and I loved our time exploring and playing together. We also got down to California to see family, and Dwayne was down more often to see his parents after his father’s health scare, and we are so grateful Dick is ending the year in far better shape than he began it.
Dwayne and my marriage turned old enough to drink this year, so we toasted it over pie. We keep trying to travel but are stymied by the extortion of the younger two to ruin any adventure for us.[3] Kyla always wants to join us but she has the busiest schedule of all. I can’t speak for Dwayne, but I am cheering on their aging progress so they can stop confounding My Plans. It will be easier to leave them when Piper gets her license and masters an alarm clock. One will happen this Valentine’s Day. The other will… well, I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
We were fortunate when Dwayne survived last winter’s rounds of tech layoffs and another re-org or two. He connects with the kids by talking STEM with Kyla, watching scary shows with Piper, and playing video games with Wes, sacrificing himself so I don’t have to.
I wasted 18 solid reading weeks to, ironically, take 3 intensive library science courses this year, mostly to keep my teaching certificate active. I can cut-and-paste my activities each year: school substitute and AirBnB host, tutor and volunteer, eye-rolling mother and smoochy wife, but I can now add that I am in the middle of the absolute fuckery of perimenopause[4], leveling up my delightful personality without, so far, decreasing my energy. I just turned 49 and have taken up something I never thought would be on the 2023 Bingo card: jogging, with the strict rule that I never have to run uphill or deny myself chocolate.
Sending this with love and hopes that 2024 brings you only good surprises and that next year’s letter doesn’t need to come with a PG-13 rating.
Happy Christmas and Merry Everything
Denise, with no blame to Dwayne, Kyla, Piper or Wes
[1] Truthfully, an unlucky fall would have been on his head or neck. He actually did the smart thing and sacrificed his wrist. I wanted to add the x-ray to the photocard, but the “X” the bones make is a little nauseating.
[2] “Stimming” means self-stimulation, usually associated with autism. Kyla describes it as a way of venting her biggest emotions. The rest of us describe it as an earthquake. 😉
[3]Seriously, I was trying to talk them into at least a Disneyland or Universal Studies trip this Christmas and both Piper and Wes replied, “Thanks, I’d rather stay home.” I am currently unsure who birthed these children. Oh. Oh. I just realized that my younger children are basically my homebody parents. Huh.
[4] I recently met up with a friend who was on her second period of the month. I couldn’t relate, as I was on Day 17 of mine. And periods are the easy part. Fuckery, indeed, she write at 2:15am, on another night of insomnia.
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