First Love

Besides physical acumen, you were really gifted in the academic realm as well. You were top of your class all along, and very competitive with other high achievers- especially as related to math. You were a natural, and got the grades to prove it. Chess you went crazy for about first or second grade and you loved and excelled at that as well. When we moved to California, you went bananas for computers...ahhh, the magic of Middle School electives. You LOVED computers and were like the classroom expert/teacher's aide/whatever. At home you were equally intense, and you relentlessly forced Dad into buying an ADAM computer. Absolute destiny, no?

Vacationing

Most of our vacations till we moved from Colorado were spent visiting Grandparents in Idaho or Illinois. Dad took you boys fishing and squirrel shooting where he grew up; I remember mostly cooking and doing dishes when we were up there, however. And the time I asked Grandma to show me how to clean fish. Eeewwww. Guess the guys were the ones who really did that though, so it was Dad who showed me. Never again. Never ever again.

About the time Treesje was born, I would convince Dad to take you older ones up there by himself and I would stay home with the babies. So I'm not sure what always went on, but I'm betting you have a few Bear Lake memories. How about playing cards till all hours with Grandma & Grandpa? Maybe that led to your love of board games, huh?

We went to Illinois about half as often because it was twice as far, but I remember taking you down the Fox River on like a ferry/steamboat one time. Somehow we joined a group on a day trip from the Nursing Home, and they sang their favorite old songs with such childlike enthusiasm, I couldn't stop crying. So I probably cured you of wanting to end up in a Nursing Home or on a boat. Another day, when you were probably 5, we drove up to Lake Geneva in Wisconsin to go swimming. A storm came up and it got cold and overcast, but I wouldn't let you out of the water because, darn it, we paid a whole $10 to go there, and come hell or high water, we were going to swim! GET BACK IN THAT WATER AND I MEAN NOW!! So that probably cured you of wanting to swim much ever again.... I'm sure I wiped out whole categories of entertainment for you with my good intentions. You probably did quite a bit better when you flew back there for a week or two by yourself when you were 8 or 9. At least I was out of your way, and your Grandparents and Aunts & Uncles could give you lots of individual attention and spoil you. Kind of a rare phenomenon for someone in our family.

In 1980 just a few weeks after Jordan was born, we went to a timeshare tour outside of Vail, CO, and realized while there that we weren't seeing enough of the country by only going to two states to visit Grandparents. So, we bought in, and in October of that year we were on our way to Ruidoso, New Mexico. Remember the huge tarantulas, the size of a man's hand, that would cross the highway as we tried to dodge them? Ughhhh. Once there, it was terrific to see the beauty all around. Dad took you to visit Smokey the Bear and to see Billy The Kid's old hangout. And we checked out the stunning Inn of the Mountain Gods, and took you to White Sands, the gorgeous dunes where you got your first chance to drive the car because no one else was around. But my favorite thing of all was the day we took you all horseback riding in the mountains with two Mescalero Apaches. We were the whole show that day (there are perks to going places off season), and these wild Indians were really into their roles. Dad had Treesje on her horse, I had baby Jordan on mine, and one of the Apaches had Willow on his, but the rest of you tykes were on your own, and we chased around with the wind that day. And not a broken bone in the crowd! My dream come true, if only for a day.

Keep goin'! So true, isn't it, that there are "miles to go before you sleep", and so much to see, to do, if you're lucky?

No Bones About It

Before we had kids, we trained on dogs (hamsters, too- till the mom ate all her newborns), so you never met our first babies, Easy and then Oink.

Still, you had your fair share of dogs growing up, well at least in your early years. Midnight, a Black Lab, was the first, I think. He was wonderful with you kids. You were around 2 when we got him, and he was perfectly patient with you. Once I remember you grabbed some scissors and were trying to cut his ear. He didn't even growl. Never a growl for you. But when I would bid him come in or go outside when he wasn't fond of my timing, I thought I'd be eaten alive.

Let's see, would Frog the Dog have been next in the lineup? Think so. Tiniest, cutest little something or other. Just a cuddle bug. Not. Looks can be deceiving. This mutt could rip your throat out, had he been able to reach it. He barked, and his bite was just as bad as his bark. We gave him to some friends who gave him to some friends who nobody has ever seen since. No, wait! I think the story goes that they got in trouble with Animal Control because Frog bit someone. Ribbit Ribbit.

Next came Hickory. Stunning Red Irish Setter. My diamond didn't shine as much as his coat. He was beautiful. Got him from a young woman who just couldn't handle him, even though she'd sent him to obedience school. He was convinced he was the eternal puppy, and lived to sit on people's laps. I never saw my Dad laugh as much as when he would come to visit and see this huge dog back himself into assorted laps. He would be sitting straight up, rear ensconced but front legs vertical, his head far above the designated lap's head, just waiting to be petted. He would do this all the time---even to 1 1/2 year old Jared---he'd just go plop down on top of him and think that was the natural order of things! Obviously Jared survived.

Hickory was a sweetheart. However, he was a boy, and would knock you down and kill you if you opened the front door when he was around. He had carousing in his blood and nothing and no one could stop him. Often I would put you kids in the car and spend the entire day chasing around after that blasted creature. One time it was raining and Hickory was running around town with a couple of other canine cohorts. I gave chase in the car, jumping out now and then to open the car door when I thought I had him cornered. All of a sudden the other many muddy dogs jumped in the little Subaru. Had to move heaven and earth to get them out. Arghhhh! Many times I would meet your Dad at the door in tears, moaning and groaning about how awful my day had been. No sympathy- he didn't get it.

Until. One Saturday he happened to be home when surprise---guess who shoved someone aside and raced out the door? We all got in the yellow car to give chase. Dad would corner the dog in a parking lot or field, only to have him slip by at the last second. It got more and more dramatic, if yelling and cussing are any indication. Have to admit I enjoyed sitting there and watching someone else go through all the gyrations and frustrations that had been my life up to that point. Eventually, we had to give him away---the dog, not your Dad---because the neighbors got to the end of their ropes, having him tear through their yards and gardens.

Then there was Puffy, little tiny black puffball of a dog. Cute as a button, quiet, no trouble. Finally the perfect dog. "And they lived happily ever after", right? Right. Until. One night Dad was taking you older kids to a movie, maybe even a Drive-In, while I stayed with the baby of the moment. Evidently he didn't see Puffy in time and ran right over him. Didn't tell you guys till you got back home, though. Guess he thought tears could wait. And that was the end of the family dog roster for many many years.

Against All Odds

One Friday night there had been an especially violent snowstorm, one of those once in a lifetime deals that only happens every decade or two, and the next day the city was paralyzed. Frozen on all levels. Everything was shut down, no traffic, all still on the western front. Except YOU and Jared were convinced in the very marrow of your bones that no matter what, somehow SOCCER must go on! You were probably around 8, and I swear that's assuredly not the age of reason at all. You were so impassioned/obnoxious about it, that it was easier for me to get in the car and risk our lives trying to drive to your non-existent games than to listen to you (think you'll always be more stubborn than I).

Miraculously I managed to get us all the way to Ft. Logan, where you were scheduled to play, and you guys were absolutely incredulous that not another soul was in sight on the field. Or off for that matter. We never saw even one other car on the road-probably babies even had to be born at home-but the game must go on, right? But there we were, 3 lone humans in a surreal snow globe. By all rights, I should have had my Mom license revoked at that point. (And a few times since...if we're getting technical)

By George, You Can Do It!

On our longggggggg cul de sac, Bellewood Dr. in Englewood, there was a boy a few years older than you, maybe 10. George definitely marched to a different drummer, and neighborhood kids made fun of him. You and Afton were kind to him. We talked about how that was important, and it pleased me that you would stand up for him. I mistakenly thought it was a one way street, we more "normal" ones looking out for the "less normal".

Then one day George came up the cul de sac looking to make a little money. For some reason, I was in the front yard watching as he went methodically door to door to see if anyone needed their lawn mowed. I must have seen him try at least 7 or 8 houses before he reached ours at the apex. He was sweating and smiling, both profusely, as he asked if we needed his help. Unfortunately, Dad had just cut ours. "George", I said, "why not turn off your lawn mower till you get hired and save a little gas?" It had been going full blast his entire journey. "Naw, that's ok," he said, "I know somebody is going to need me!" And, still smiling broadly, off he went with his noisy lawn mower to the next door neighbor. What a great lesson he taught me about how to live life. No holdin' back, playin' it safe. What an attitude.

Yeah, George wasn't too normal. Not at all.

Faintly Familiar

Our family has a penchant for passing out. I think almost all of us have participated in this sport at one time or another, some more than others. Two triggers- excessive heat, excessive squeamishness.

One time, one of you had to have stitches- another favorite family pastime- so our family Pediatrician, Dr. Guard, had the injured party on a gurney in the ER at Swedish Medical Center in Englewood, CO. Pretty soon, one of you "survivors" keeled over and hit the floor as you were watching. Dr. Guard summoned the nurse to call for another gurney to be brought in. In the blink of an eye, another one of you bit the dust, and Dr. Guard had to call for another gurney to be brought into the room. And then again. And again. Five gurneys lined up in a row. Wish they'd had video cameras or even cell phone cameras back in the day. It was like Dominoes. Doctor bill=hundreds, ER bill=hundreds more, full house fainting spree=priceless!

The Fun Has Just Begun

So not every day can be Christmas, but we tried to make childhood fun for you everyday in as many ways as we could. One of those ways was to try and make your surroundings a cool playground. So when we moved to our second house (maybe you were 4?), we had the basement finished- the highlight being a wall of bookshelves, one part of which was a huge secret door. It looked just as immovable as the rest of the wall, but was on piano hinges and, when opened, revealed a secret hiding place---your closet! We copied the idea from Stronghold Castle on the Rock River in Oregon, Illinois where Jan & Reid had been married the year before. We had all been taken with the library bookcase that moved to give access to a secret passageway to a hidden Chapel.



http://www.dupontcastle.com/castles/strongho.htm

Probably our favorite things to do was to escape to the mountains, so we decided to turn our new backyard into a mountain paradise. The yard was mammoth, because of a steep hill at the rear of the back yard. It had a magnificent view of the town. We planted lots of pine, created meandering gravel paths through the trees which converged on the firepit in the very center of our hill. There we could have dutch oven meals, marshmallow roasts---some of our favorite things to do in the Rockies.

The third, and last, house we bought in Littleton we were at for only a year, or maybe two. The week before we moved out and on to Seattle, our workers finally finished the basement. The entire thing was a huge rec room-the focus being a raised stage that took up the far wall-a Cultural Hall replica without the basketball court. We had such plans! But kept moving on, always with the hope of new experiences, more fun! At least that was the plan.

Tell Me The Story Of Jesus

With Family Home Evenings, daily prayer, Church, and Christ's teachings just a part of life, we thought we were helping to lay a foundation of faith for our kids from day one. (Perchance some of it might even rub off on the adults, wouldn't you think?) I had just assumed we were of the same cloth, so to speak, and that it was US, you know, the GROWN UPS, leading by precept and example.

Then that one day, when I saw clearly what was what and who was who. You and Afton and I were out in our little yellow Subaru, and why we were in a subdivision with hills that sloped at 90 degrees I have no idea. Did I say 90 degrees? Maybe much more, couldn't even see the top of the hill from the bottom of it. And snow and cold to boot. But there we were, and the little engine that could, just couldn't anymore when we reached ground zero (bottom of the hill which seemed like below sea level, and here we were in the Mile High City!). Oh, sure I tried gunning it over and over, over and over, over and over, and the engine never even turned, never made a sound. Waited and waited. Repeated and repeated. Frustrated and more frustrated, angrier and angrier--- me, not the car. Did everything in my power to move that mountain. Well, I was willing to settle for moving up that mountain, but either way.  No apparent way to get help. I was beaten.

Then Afton piped up in the backseat, "We need to say a prayer."  Did I mention I was angry?  Now I was angry-annoyed. Here I was cornered, probably by my own words of wisdom from the comfort of my living room, and now my little kids were about to see Jesus' limitations before they ever got to kindergarten!  Way to go, Mom. "Yeah, go ahead, you say it," I sputtered (which was more than I could get the car to do at this point).  We bowed our heads and you guys prayed . A child's prayer. I lip synced "Amen" with heavy heart. The 5 seconds were over too soon, and I was trying to find a reasonable explanation to share about why Jesus was just too busy with some really important things and so he couldn't be bothered with our problems at the time, but He was still real, just preoccupied. Me, trying to save face for the Israelite.  Bet he appreciated that.   "Go," you both said, before I could open my mouth to defend the Divine.  Reluctantly I turned the key in the ignition for the 84th time. The engine revved with no hesitation and we sped to the top of the hill like a race car. You guys with big grins, me with tears.

They tell us adults to watch for teaching moments so we can teach the children. HA!

Welcome, welcome, King of Kings!

Juxtaposition

Another Denver memory is how you and Jared would mark the seasons. As the weather warmed up when you guys were young, you would switch to wearing long sleeved shirts for some reason. Sometimes you would even wear two at the same time in the summer. According to that logic you would predictably start wearing shorts and short sleeves as soon as it was snowing. You guys would go out to the backyard in a storm and build snow forts and caves and then put on swimming trunks to go play in them and throw snowballs. I don't know, so don't ask.

Coaches' Pet

You did love your sports, and it was interesting to hear from especially your soccer coaches just how extraordinary you were. That you actually understood the game, strategy, the whole 9 yards. You started playing at 5 and were never ego driven, or just out for your own glory like all the rest. You wanted your team to win the game and you knew how to do it. The coaches felt like you were more like an adult, one of their peers. Not just the skills and talent, but the mind. They thought you were pretty remarkable. So did we.

My Sister's Keeper

One of my favorite photos, or maybe it's only a memory, is of greeting Afton at the Stapleton Airport when she returned from Illinois by herself. You had missed her so much, so very much. She was 7, you 6, and we were walking behind you as we went through the terminal, you with your arm protectively, lovingly around her shoulder. You looked like miniature grown ups. Sooo sweet. My first airport tears.

Takes One To Know One

You had willpower early on. Imagine that. Even though I started out parenting with some basic parameters as far as food went- like no white bread or sugar cereals allowed- you were a born sugar addict. Frequently, I would walk you to the 7/11 to buy you candy rather than suffer one of your tantrums. But then around 4 or 5 you became a health addict instead, and gave up all of that for a time. Think you grasped the idea along the line that athletes had to be healthy to be strong and fast. You had vision. You took it seriously, and for a few years there, you really towed the line, even though no one else joined in. (That was pretty much over by the time we moved to California and I started Fat Fridays, remember?)

Dad more than once told me when I was despairing of kid stubbornness that it was just a matter of how it was applied---said it was a major strength to be stubborn in the cause of good and great things. The aggravating part is that kids pretty much decide what to be stubborn about, and we're all really kids for much of our lives, if we can get away with it, right?

Biggest Fan

You thought I was remarkable too.  A remarkable cook.  That made you a majority of one.  You would feel so bad when your Dad would criticize my cooking, I think his attempts were supposed to be funny, maybe.  Maybe not.  But you would feel badly for me and try to compensate for the digs.  You would always find a way to try to build me up even though you were just a preschooler.  I was never Julia Child, but that didn't stop you.  With such sparkling eyes, you would look at me and say things like, "Mommy, you make the best hot dogs in the world!"  Or, "That was the best glass of milk ever!" Any little thing.  Just melted me that you could be so thoughtful, so tender.  What a keeper!

No Kryptonite In Sight

Christmas=Superpowers! Matching Superman flannel blue jammies. With capes! You and Jared, in all your awesomeness, totally believing you could fly. With hugest grins you would be poised on top of desks and other assorted furniture in an effort to get airborne. Undaunted when you merely hit the floor (at least it was heavily carpeted!), you would mount again and again to give it the old preschool try. Gosh, it must be fun to be young and live in that everything is possible world....

Worked For You

Small for your age, your size worked for you, especially with adults who always were surprised that you could do so much when you were so little. You took swimming lessons, ice skating lessons, played sports even as a preschooler, and you were always a favorite with those teachers and adults. You had a gift, a physical grace and prowess to begin with, which helped. But because you were smaller than the other kids in your groups, I think the teachers credited you with exceptional heart and courage as well. Pays to be cute, huh?

Never Fails

My favorite trick of yours, traffic control! About 2 1/2, or whenever you understood that green means go, you took it to mean that it was your responsibility, your absolute POWER, to change red lights to green. Yes, your first taste of power, and you were drunk with it. This was before the days of seatbelts and car seats, so you would be standing up in the back seat of the car (yes, I know), and when we would stop for a red light, you would jump into action. I do mean "Jump!" Up and down and up and down and up and down...as hard and as fast as you could. Till magically, that old light would turn to green! Every single time. You were indefatigable in meeting the challenge of red lights and making them change. You'd just keep jumping for however long it took, till you could pull it off. You may have been yelling, "Green, green, green" and thinking it was the jumping and the incantation that cast a spell and made it all materialize, but I had a strong hunch it was all those amazing sparkles from your saucer brown eyes that made all that magic.

The Perfect Brother

While we're on the subject of your sister, did I mention I sometimes wondered if you would ever utter a word if she hadn't first said it? There were times I pictured that they would think you were mute when you started kindergarten, even college, if she weren't around to prime you first. Eventually you got beyond that, but she was so the apple of your eye for a couple of years there that you repeated every word she said. Not only that, she knew her powers over you and could get you to clean up her room for her or do her bidding whenever she wanted. Ah, if only you hadn't outgrown that phase, she could sure put you to work now!

ETJ

When you were a toddler, it was Afton you put on a pedestal. Maybe you wanted to do all the things she did. You lived to please her. I remember when we lived in tiny Sheridan, CO., and I would take both of you on walks around the neighborhood after dinner. She was competitive and always wanted to be out front, the indisputable leader. But there are trade offs in life. You must have signed a non-compete clause, letting her have her way without a quibble, and you learned to take your time, smell the roses, look at the pebbles or cracks in the sidewalk, and check out the bugs as we went our way. "Enjoy the journey"-your motto, long before it became popular.

Makes Me Smile...Again

My favorite happy memory of you was the winter when you were likely 3. Our first house had a big hill in the backyard and, one day when it was covered in snow, I took you guys out there on a sled for a brief white interlude. It was fun, exhilarating, but after awhile I was winded from pulling the sled and you guys uphill, and we headed in. Except for you, you stayed at the bottom of the hill and, with a dazzling smile, said, "One more time!" No way to say no to that, so I obliged. You were in heaven on your way down, laughing all the way. And then you said in the same irresistible way, "One more time!" I was captive, regardless of how tired I was. To see someone that thrilled and delighted was a payoff beyond measure. But somehow, each time you said those three magic words, I thought you literally meant "just one more time". Then after many, many, many repeats, I was close enough to catch you at the bottom of the hill on your latest run and hear you say, "One more time!" And then so softly under your breath I barely heard, "again and again and again." Freezing, exhausted, but how I LOVED THAT DAY! Wish you could have lots of highs like that the rest of your life....

Body Art

Then there was the time, probably around 2 years old, when the idea occurred to you to take things to the next level by enhancing your body... with stamps. Well sure. Where did that come from? Had you heard about green stamp redemption deals? Were you sending yourself through the mail? Or were you a tattoo wannabe? Who knows? But when I saw you had stripped all your clothes off and covered every inch, and yes, I do mean EVERY inch, of your oh so soft tender skin with stamps that you had licked and pasted on, I tried to stop laughing long enough to take a picture. Miraculously, I managed. You were all smiles and proud of yourself at the time. Me? Figured I could blackmail you 10 or 20 years down the road. Now if only I could find that darn photo....

Hugs To You

More from our Denver years. You were exceptionally loving, overwhelmingly affectionate. Often at night, even though you were a bitty toddler, you would wrap your arms tightly around my neck after I finished your bedtime story and pull me down on your pillow and just SQUEEEEEZZZE while you told me you loved me. How often did I nearly pass out? Sometimes I could no longer breathe, such an unlikely boa constrictor! Gave literal impact to the "I love you to death" declaration...even though you stopped with "I love you so much!", I wondered if sometimes that would be my last gasp.

Babysitter's Club

Ok, another one I'll email to you if you'd like.

...To Spite Your Face

When I was 13, I was a Candystriper, volunteering all my time at St. Joseph Hospital. Had some interesting opportunities and experiences there, one of which was "running" the ER in the basement. It was a tiny 2 table enterprise, and mainly I just had to be there waiting for trouble to show up so I could call the residents and nurses down from the 4th floor (Surgery), then buzz around getting out surgical trays, doing their bidding whatever. I was remarkably poised-I have no idea how-and I calmly handled everything from auto accidents to BBQ burns to DOAs. But then one day they brought in a tiny baby whose little nose had been severed, and I lost it.(My composure, not the nose.) I was in tears and had to leave the room as they sutured it back on. My only breakdown.

Fast forward about 13 more years, and I was on my way outside to hang laundry on the line. You were about 18 months old. We were spending a month in a small old rental while our first home was being finished, and the place had a side door to the backyard. There was a porch, with 4 or 5 steps, but no railings. As I opened the screen door with the laundry basket in my arms, I didn't see you there, and nonchalantly knocked you totally off it. When I picked you up, I was horrified to see your nose torn completely off on one side, and only hanging by a small thread of skin on the other. Normally I'm a rock in a crisis, but not this time! I was beside myself. Fortunately, we had company visiting with us that week---Aunt Jan, Aunt Pam, maybe Aunt Cindy. Together they took control and remained calm enough to call your Dad, who came home and took us to the doctor. They called in a surgeon to do the honors, and he was so distracted by my overt distress that he was more concerned about my condition than yours.

I have no idea if I'd had some kind of a premonition all those years before and so had reacted dramatically then, or if I was conditioned by the initial experience and hence reacted so strongly the next time I saw it. Either way, my cup of guilt overfloweth---"cutting off your nose to spite your face" is still a hurtful phrase to me. It was just the beginning for your face tho, guess you have much bigger scars and stories to tell now....

1 Little Monkey, Jumping On The Bed

Sorry, but this is one you have to ask to for. Just email me. It's all good, just private for friends and family.

What A Shock!

Unbelievably, within months that shock of black hair was replaced with shockingly blond tresses. (In the summers, till you were out of elementary school, your hair turned as absolutely white as platinum blond hair can get.) Actually, it looked amazing! So much so that I refused to get it cut. Think when you were maybe 1 1/2 or 2, Dad took you for your first haircut, and I was devastated when you guys came back. It looked like you had been inducted into the Military! I felt sick that I had lost my baby; so soon it was grown long again.

Then came the summer we were up in Geneva, Idaho at Grandpa & Grandma Sleights-you were maybe 3. An older lady wandered from the back of the store-which was the front of their house-to the living room, for some unknown reason. She was startled when she saw you, and said to me, "Awwww, how cute! What's her name?" Thinking this stranger would figure it out on her own, I simply replied, "Adam". With a bemused smile on her face, she turned to leave, shaking her head and muttering, "Such a strange name for a girl."

I got used to getting your haircut after that, at least a little....

Winging It

Your first air flight was across the Atlantic when you were less than 6 months old. You, me, and your 15 month old big sister. A wild ride, pretty much a horror movie of sorts, with everything going wrong(see Nov.16, 2009 post for all the gory details: http://justmefallingapart.blogspot.com/2009/11/afton-murphys-law.html). To be sure, we didn't crash into the ocean, but there were times I had almost preferred that. We were pretty beat when we got to Kennedy Airport, where things took a turn for the worse. We lost Afton in the airport, one of our suitcases broke and spilled all over the floor after we finally got through Customs, yada, yada.  Not a soul would help, so it was a little daunting. 

Without missing a beat, I got us on the flight to Minnesota instead of Illinois and didn't realize it till we were disembarking in the wrong state (at least I had us heading in the right direction. Does that count?) By the time we got to Chicago, we were a bit dazed after our 30 hour ordeal. Grandma Mudgie says she'll never forget how she held you in her arms all the way home to Elgin with your eyes glazed, unblinking, staring as if in total shock and disbelief. But everything always works out in the end...life's ultimate lesson.

First Impressions

So I'm adding the memories I recalled of Adam's early years for his 40th. How about one a day so as not to overwhelm? There are a couple he asked me not to post because of internet privacy, but I can email those to family, if interested. Just send me a request. Here goes:


As soon as you were born, I was taken with your olive coloring, fine features and crown of black hair. Can a boy be beautiful? Well you were. And equally disarming was your serene personality. Your big eyes took everything in, swallowed whole, with equanimity. Sometime along the way later that disposition changed a bit. And eventually you trained me to give in to your whims earlier rather than later...to avoid the sensational drama you could create. But as a little baby, you and I seemed oblivious to what was to come, and we took long serene walks with 1 year old Afton for hours in the German countryside and villages we lived in, till we moved back to the States that Spring. Off to a great start!