Nov. 26: I can’t write this letter because I’m reading Michael Sullivan’s latest, and I am not putting it down.
Nov. 29: National Swearing Day dictates that the family finds the tree, cuts the tree, sets up the tree, decorates the tree, and then collapses by the tree. It’s tradition.
Dec 3: I’m finishing The Art of Racing in the Rain and I need to cry all the tears.
Dec. 4-10: I am making poor decisions about Christmas rom-coms on Kindle Unlimited.
Dec. 6-16: I’ve been working with a real estate lawyer and I’ve temporarily lost my humanity… and writing style.
Dearest Friends and Family,
I am running out of both excuses and time, as I self-inflict my annual reframing of the past year to my own satisfaction.
Beloveds, my maternity leave had her 18th birthday this year! I tried to celebrate that I now have two kids and a grown up, but Kyla’s look of horror of not being a kid anymore stopped me quickly. We celebrated her adult responsibilities with an RV trip to Silverwood Theme Park. She was officially diagnosed with mild autism last winter, which stopped her not at all in continuing to straddle both high school and community college, working the same job for four years, and generally adulting. She still loves metal design and is figuring out how to balance that with earning a living wage someday. (Believe you me, Kyla’s mother has been very annoying about that.) I breathlessly anticipate next year’s newsletter so I know what she’s doing after graduation.
Parenting is never dull. I keep telling the kids that if they don’t want to see me naked, they shouldn’t barge into my room. Now the middle one barges in while covering her eyes. Me-thinks the correct lesson has not been learned here.
When Piper turned 16, she got her driver’s license, was nearly eaten by a camel, and kissed an alpaca. These are mostly unrelated, but for someone who sleeps like (and with) a cat, she leads a fairly interesting life. Piper gave all of us a rough spring and summer with numerous and inconvenient medical therapies. Once we got back to school, the appointments became even more onerous. After one that was book-ended by Seattle rush hour traffic, I told her that if she was cured, we could stop all the appointments. Before I even finished, she threw her hands in the air, and declared in her most chipper voice, “I’m CURED!”. And honestly, it’s been easy since then. We have finally found the payoff of raising a very stubborn and determined changeling.
Wes is almost 15!! That is not a “can you believe my baby is almost in driver’s ed?” wonderment. That is Dwayne and me happy-dancing that he is nearly not 14. For those who followed us in 2022, Piper was 14 on our Big World Adventure. This household is almost done with fourteen-year-olds.[1] In addition to virtual-reality-video-game-life, Wes continues building an incredible machine body that lifts weights, rock climbs like it’s a horizontal surface, and my proudest moment, learned to front flip, which is probably not surprising for a kid who learned to walk on a trampoline. (After he first learned to trampoline on my bladder.) It was hilarious when he grew taller than his sisters, not so funny when he shot past me, mildly amusing when he started looking down on his beloved Papa, and terrifying when he could outlift him.
Under the category of why we can’t have nice things: I was so excited by my almost-new car last year. Since then, each kid has put their own special mark on it, even my too-young-to-drive Wes, when he dropped a bike on the front and scratched both the windshield and hood. Sigh. And you should see what the girls have done to the kids’ car! Luckily, the replacement minivan came pre-dented.
This is my Golden Year. Not only did I turn 50 last month, but all three kids (ahem, both kids and my grown child) are in high school together. I love having only one PTSA in my life, and it’s always fun to sub at their school. My goal was to read 180 books this year, so unless I can read twenty more books in the next two weeks, I’ll maintain my perfect not-meeting-goals streak. I regularly horrify myself by hunting down cat pee in the dark with a blacklight and opening Piper’s bedroom door. Also, I got to remodel the kids’ bathroom this year. Twice.[2]
Dwayne looks back on this year and can’t remember doing any big projects. That could be his turning 50 this year[3] or he’s still in the computer modeling stage of the projects he wants to do. Last April, he and a friend flew to Tennessee to see the eclipse. I tagged along because I love new city adventures astrophysics, and I was pleased when I was able to spend the afternoon reading in the sun watching the moon. He is a month away from his 28th Microsoft anniversary, and will soon have three kids in college, or jail, so he’s not retiring yet.
I think of this year as another year of not traveling, but pictures prove otherwise. Dwayne and I celebrated a friend’s birthday in Victoria, BC, traveled separately to family in CA and OR, camped in the different corners of WA and ID, embraced the Parthenon replica in Nashville, and tramped all over San Juan Island. In August, Dwayne and I took the kids to NYC for our Big Apple adventure. Piper and I saw lots of shows and only a fraction of what we wanted. Kyla joined us for all the museums, and Wes walked for miles to earn gaming time back at the flat. New York is surreal. We found ourselves getting gelato in Times Square at 11pm on a Saturday night after seeing The Lion King, and none of the introverts were freaking out, in spite of being surrounded by the biggest crowds of our life.
Less fun, we broke our 12-year 4th of July at the cabin streak and changed plans for others when all five of us got COVID for the first time this summer. It was like watching a tidal wave come for me in slo-mo while I scurried to get groceries, medicines, and tests before I succumbed last.
We have not done well with small, adorable animals in the past (Exhibit A: Hamsters 1-3, and all cats before Timmy and Rosie), so it gives my family sincere pleasure that Nugget the Bearded Dragon still lives. Piper’s emotional support reptile enjoys his pampered lifestyle and is such a blank slate that, like a good crush, thinks and says everything we wish him to, and he objects not to wearing hats as dictated by fashion and season. We wish you fun hats, too, this holiday.
Merry, Merry Everything!
Denise, with no blame to Dwayne,
Kyla (18), Piper (16) or Wes (14)
PS Damn it, I’ve finished the letter and didn’t swear or mention penises. I’ll do better in 2025.
[1] Read that any way you want to.
[2] Query: Is breaking a wall-sized mirror seven years of regular bad luck or extra bad luck? Asking for a friend. Regardless, it was Timmy Cat’s fault.
[3] My even-keeled, easy-going, wonderful husband was a tiny bit whiny about this birthday. He is still very, very cute.
Needopedia 