No Joke

I'm used to getting laughs from Isaac.
Today I got a whole lot more.

"Hey, mom," Isaac said. "You wanna hear a joke?"

"Ummm, sure," I said, bracing myself for 5-year-old boy humor.

He asked me something about leaves and where they live. The punch line didn't match up. At all. Then he asked me if I had any jokes. Of course, I said, desperately trying to recall a Laffy Taffy joke from my youth.

I'm not going to lie. It wasn't my best effort, but it elicited a giggle or two from Isaac.

We traded a few more back and forth and back and forth in the little time it takes to get from the baby-sitter's house to ours. Eventually, the ball lay in Isaac's court.

"Do you know why God has Addie?" 

Oh boy.

"That's not a joke, mom," he reassured me.

I know.

"Because God loves her," I said.

"And that's a beautiful thing."

Yes, Isaac. I suppose it is.

Gentle (?) Reminders

Addie, Isaac, Tripp and the caterpillar 

     The call came in late one afternoon.

     And I’d been dreading this one for awhile.

     “Hello, this is Dr. So-and-So’s office calling to set up Addison, Isaac, and Tripp’s appointment.”

     I guess I thought if I took a “don’t call us, we’ll call you” approach I’d never have to have this conversation with the receptionist at the dentist’s office.

     Of course not making the call could potentially result in a mean case of tooth decay, but all things considered, I was willing to take that risk.

     “Um, actually, it will just be Isaac and Tripp,” I said. “Addison passed away in March.”

     What I’d expected was silence.

     What I got was one of the most compassionate individuals I’ve ever encountered.

     She obviously took the time to express her sympathies, but then she went on. What happened? What symptoms did she have? And how are the boys dealing with it?

     Some may think this a bit obtrusive. Not me. I’m a mom and what mom doesn’t love talking about her kids (whether they’re right here with us or in the here-after)?

     So honestly, what could’ve really been a completely awful end to my day turned into one of the bright spots. Thank you, you wonderful woman at Dr. So-and-So’s office. I’ll be sure to get her name when we visit on Friday.

     Still, reminders of what we’ve lost continue to pop up in the strangest ways.

     Here’s a few other people, places and things that apparently didn’t get the memo.

     Justice. You know, the clothing store designed to meet the needs of 'tween girls everywhere.

    Thank you for continuing to send us your fliers and 40 percent off coupons.

     Could I simply call and ask them to take my name off the mailing list? Sure.

     But honestly, flipping through the flier makes me think of the many exchanges Addie and I had as we entered the store.

     It was always hit or miss for me.

     Sometimes we’d walk in and everything was just cute, cute, cute. So, a hit.

     Other times?

     Miss.

     Thank you, American Girl Doll.

     Even though we never purchased one of your dollies, you faithfully send us your literature and I still pick out the one that Addie and I always said looked most like her.

     And the DVR.

     You’ve been a wonderful addition to our family, recording all of our favorite shows.

     And you continue to record Addie’s favorite shows.

     Animal Cops Houston. Extreme Makeover Home Edition. I Shouldn’t Be Alive.

     Ironic, isn’t it? Because if there’s one person who should be alive, it’s my daughter.

     And you, iPad.

     It’s so nice of you to remind us that Addie’s online pets are being neglected.

     But, I have to admit, you are one of my most treasured electronic devices.

     After all, I look at you and I see Addie.

     Literally.

     First off, I haven’t wiped the fingerprints off the screen since all this happened.

     So mom’s a little crazy. Don’t judge.

     And second, that iPad has her apps, her notes, her videos, her voice.

     What more could I ask for really?

     Oh yeah. Her.

We Didn't Plan for Cancer

      I remember quite vividly the first time Scott and I laid eyes on our house.

      Was it love at first sight?

      No.

      Was it the house of our dreams?

      Not really.

      In fact, it was half the size of our former home. It needed landscaping. And grass.

      The baseboards, trim and doors needed paint. The closets needed rods.

      The basement was a blank slate. The deck a certified health hazard.

      But, it was a house in which our dreams could come true.

      Pausing for a moment in the kitchen during a walk-thru, we saw what this house could be.

      What we could be.

       A mom and dad sitting on the front porch watching our children grow.

       And we did that first summer as three darling children tore through the jungle that was our front lawn squealing with delight. A water fight ensued. Smiles. On their faces. In our hearts.

       We watched that second summer too. And listened.

       To the sound of a basketball pounding on the pavement, the front door swinging open and shut as a little girl’s friends filtered in and out of the house.

       We looked and listened in the fall and the winter.

A candid from our fall photo shoot.

                

      But it’s summer again.

      And the dreams seem to have dimmed a little.

      Like most people, we didn't make room in our dreams for cancer.

      And when it barged into our lives we didn't plan on it taking our little girl.

      At least not so soon.

***

               

      Six days.

      I can account for every single detail in those six days.

     Our 9-year-old looking at us and saying, "So I have cancer?"

      The treatment protocol.

      Six to nine months in and out of the hospital.

      The side effects. Hair loss. Nausea. Mouth sores.

      The options: dye your hair a crazy color, cut it short, or just let it fall out.

      Addie's choice: just let it fall out.

      My God, her time in the hospital wasn't long enough for her hair to even fall out.

      The question from my mother: Are you sure you don't want us to stay tonight?

      My response: No, mom, there will be plenty of nights to stay.

      Snuggling up next to Addie in the hospital bed. Holding her hand.

      Pleading with God to please save my baby girl. Singing her the same lullaby I must’ve sang a thousand times before. Realizing this time she wasn’t going to wake up.

***

      It’s sad really.

      As I finish up an evening walk, I look at the house from the road.

      Flowers bloom, toys line the driveway, little boys chase a kitten or two.

      The outside observer – one not familiar with our story of child loss – may pause for a second as they cruise past our house and think, “Now there’s a happy home.”

      And to them I say, it was.

      Once.
      Perhaps it will be again.

Christmas Letter Fail

Dear Friends and Family,

After waiting as long as possible to write this year’s Christmas letter, I decided to wait a little longer and actually drag out our extremely fragile nativity set instead. So yeah, this will most likely be a New Year’s letter. Better than last year, though when we skipped the letter entirely. You can thank me later.

But anyway, back to the nativity set.

Knowing full well that Mary, Joseph, and crew would look more like action figures than religious ones, I was sure setting up the display would hold the boys’ interest for at least five minutes. Plus, I might even be able to slip in a little bit of the Christmas story (the Cliff’s Notes version, of course) while I was at it.

I carefully unwrapped each piece and prepared to give a full rundown of the figurine’s significance when…

“Mom!” Tripp interrupted, swinging a camel by its neck. “Look at this camel. It’s ahhhh-some!”

“It’s not awesome, Tripp,” older brother Isaac shot back. “It’s breakable.”

Figuring a fight would soon follow, I already had my words ready. They’re both right. The story is awesome and the set is breakable. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to share my wisdom. Isaac and Tripp were too busy circling up the figurines for a game of Ring Around the Rosie.

I could try to paint a bit rosier picture of what life is like at our house, but why? Reality is so much better. Reality is noise 24/7, toothpaste smeared on the wall, forts fashioned out of bed sheets, and pleas for “one more kiss” before bed at night. That’s what life is really like for us, but just in case you really want the traditional Christmas letter, here goes:

Addison is in the fourth grade, which means she moved to the middle school and faced much anxiety about remembering her locker combination. She’s kept busy with softball, volleyball, and basketball, and piano lessons. Still, what we’re most proud of is her enormous love for animals. This summer she held numerous lemonade stands and spa days to raise money for the Lincoln Humane Society. While her marketing techniques were at times questionable (signs that read “lemonade 50 cents or free”) her dedication was admirable.

Isaac is 4 years old and started preschool this year. From boarding the bus to navigating the playground; making friends to successfully checking out a li-berry book, every day is a new adventure for Isaac. We were blown away at parent-teacher conferences this fall when his teacher said he just doesn’t talk very much at school. Say what? Even though he thoroughly enjoys preschool he also relishes what he has coined “stay-home days.”

And Tripp. How can I give you an accurate depiction of this 2 year old in four lines or less? He’s a ball of fire who sports pink cowboy boots, wields a foam sword, and requires a Tripp-to-English translation dictionary because he just gets so excited about whatever it is he has to say. Pottie training is a work in progress (more work than progress) and he’s making significant gains when it comes to counting (1, 2, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14).

Not much has changed with Scott and I (still married, still working). But we both took on a “second job” when we purchased our acreage. We love the space, but really didn’t have a clue as to how much work really needed to be done. The house was almost finished when we bought it. We’ve spent the past year and a half working on various projects. Trust me, we’ve made great strides (but we’re still not quite done).

We did find time for a family vacation to Phoenix last summer to see Brock and his fiancé Virginia. This also included a side trip to the Grand Canyon. It was grand, but I wouldn’t suggest taking an active 2 year old or 4 year old – at least not without a tranquilizer (for mom). We look forward to making many more memories in 2012 and wish you all the best.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Of Course We Can Build a Sound, Solid Structure for Our Children

This project was cursed from the get-go.

We ordered the swing set from Sam’s Club the first week of May. Kinda forgot about it actually because we had this really big vacation coming up. Went on vacation and realized, “hey, we haven’t received that swing set yet.” Did some checking with Sam’s and found out the swing set was lost in transit.

I know what you’re thinking: “How in the world does one lose a wooden swing set?” I thought the same thing – until the swing set actually arrived. In two boxes and 2,000 pieces.

Over our heads?

No. Not us.

I must say I really took charge on this project, carefully laying out each and every part for my husband.

Then we dove right in with Step 1.

Step 1 was so much fun we decided to do it again (right this time).

Steps 2-6 went similarly. Eventually we had to move the swing set out of the front yard and into the back yard.

Three weeks and a few trips to the local hardware store later we were finished. 

And no, I’m not exaggerating. That’s what happens when you’ve only got a few precious evenings and weekends to work with.

All in all, it’s a project we can be proud of – especially since it’s still standing five months later.

Our Landscaping Labor of Love

To say that we started with a blank canvas would be a gross understatement. Barren is more like it. But, I could see the potential in this house and couldn’t wait to get started.

Unfortunately I had to wait a little bit.

My initial meeting with the landscape designer occurred in February. We stuck the first shovel in the ground in May.

So what did I do for three months? Waited for the snow to melt. Played with the plans a bit. Scaled back a lot.

Finally, it was time.

Step 1: Spray a truck-load of Round-up on the area to be ‘scaped. Then wait. It's really dying a slow death here.

Step 2: Break out the mother-in-law’s roto-tiller.

Step 3: Nearly break mother-in-law’s roto-tiller on the dirt clods in our “lawn” and call for a replacement tiller.

Step 4: Lay the landscape fabric and edging.

Step 5: Cut slits in the fabric, dig holes, and stick a few plants in the ground.

Step 6: Continue cutting, digging, planting. Eventually realize that even though you scaled back A TON, you’ve got a really big area to fill.

Step 7: Mulch, mulch, and more mulch. I stopped counting at 42 bags. Ri-di-cu-lous.

Step 8: Sit on the rockers, relax, and watch the flowers grow.

I can't remember what this one is called, but man did it grow and grow and grow.

Here's the Coreopsis. Hey, it sorta sounds like I know what I'm talking about.

And my pride and joy, the Knockout Roses.

P.S. The front porch is a great place to watch your children grow too.

Of course we couldn't stop with the landscaping. We also needed to rip out the "lawn" (there was only about 20 square feet of lawn; the rest was all weeds) and plant a whole new one. Here's a pic of the front lawn completely ripped out.

We seeded the lawn in September and enjoyed an 8-week drought (according to my husband). I'm not even going to question his accuracy because he was the one out there traipsing across the soil moving sprinklers all hours of the day and night. His hard work paid off. The lawn looks great. Here you can see the first sprouts coming up.

Let's just hope we can be just as diligent about its care next summer and hit the back yard with just as much gusto.

Seriously, we're going to need it. 

So...What Have We Been Doing the Last 18 Months?

If you took the time to read my profile, you’ll see that I promised to update this blog as often as my husband, three children, frogs, and dog allowed.

So here I am a year and half later (on Christmas break) with a free minute or two to bring everyone up to speed on what’s been happening around the acreage.

Significant fall projects included:

Finishing the basement. Thankfully, we didn’t have to do a thing but leave the house open for everyone else involved in finishing the basement for us. While there’s a certain sense of pride in doing the work yourself, there’s also satisfaction knowing that the job has been done right (or done at all). Anyway, the basement is beautiful, functional, and full of monsters (according to the boys). 

It’s still pretty bare and beige, but  we love the added space. 

We included a little office area and a spare bedroom.

Plus a bathroom.

But the best decision we made in terms of finishing the basement was including a playroom (with a door).

It's a great spot for the little guys.

And "grown up" enough for our oldest.

Getting both cars in the garage. Don’t laugh. That was a significant accomplishment. Where do you think we stored all of belongings during the basement project?

Ridding the house of all mice. Remember the mudroom project I was so proud of? Well, this project was also the source of the devastating mouse infestation of 2010. Prior to the mudroom transformation, this teeny-tiny space was supposed to be a laundry room. Yeah, with the amount of laundry going on in our house that was just not going to work. So, we ripped out the dryer vent and installed the cabinets and cubbies. Unfortunately, we forgot to plug up the hole. And a hole the size of a dryer vent is pretty much an open invitation to each and every field mouse within a five-mile radius of our house. I don’t want to give too many details, but I will tell you that the kids and I did move out for a couple of days. I’m happy to report we are mouse-free this year. Perhaps this is due to our two killer kitties, Callie and Sparky.

They look pretty vicious, don't they?