Fourteen

Dear McKay,

Well, my boy, you are now 14.

As I've thought about what I'd like to tell you in this birthday letter, I am drawn time and time again to the contrast between you and the person I was at 14. I was snarky, sarcastic, angry, and insecure. I took every opportunity to buck the rules laid upon me, and resented the grown up people in my life. I was rebellious and unhappy.

The greatest thrill of my life is that you are, in every single way, the complete opposite of what I was then. You are happy, kind, sweet, and confident. You love and adore the parentals in this house and look forward to time spent together as a family. You obey the rules religiously, and bring logical well-planned arguments for our consideration when you think rules should be altered. Quite honestly, we usually agree with your logic, and make changes accordingly.

Though we don't tell you often enough, we are proud as punch for the maturity you show in times like these. You make it nearly impossible to tell you no, kid.

And you leave me wondering what I ever did to deserve you.

Right now, you are obsessed with all things basketball. Almost every item on your birthday wish list was basketball related. You have a routine after school each day, and you follow it rain or shine. After guzzling a large glass of milk, you head out to the back yard and shoot some hoops. I think it helps you to clear your head and unwind before the chore of homework begins.

What brings a smile to my face is that most days I look out the window and see you with your brother or sister, offering pointers, and cheering them on from the sidelines, rather than shooing them away to focus on yourself.

It's not the game that matters. It's the people who play alongside you that count. A lesson, sweet boy, that we are all learning from you.

Mack, your heart is pure gold.

As you grow into a man, which I know is bound to happen whether I like it or not, I hope you will take this knowledge and lock it deep inside your heart: There is not a day goes by that I don't thank god for sending me you. You are truly a noble soul. Your sweetness of spirit is infectious and brings joy to all those around you. You are quick to laugh, especially at yourself, and so easy to love.

You make me smile each and every day.

Thank you for showing me just how fantastically wonderful teenage boys can be.

I love you, my little KcKay. And I always will.

Love, Mami

Big Mack

Last week, I registered my baby boy for high school.

It brought a great deal of anxiety to our home. There were tears and panic attacks. Late night worry and lots of stress.

And all of it mine.

It is a marvel to me, this child of mine. Where I am worry and uncertainty, he is all confidence and cool. His junior high experience was (thankfully) nothing like mine. He breezed through halls that are fraught with angst and cruelty, and has come away unscathed.

He has aced all of his honors classes and still finds time to shoot a few hoops with his friends in the back yard. He loves freely and laughs often.

He likes the girls, we are discovering, but not overtly so. He's a fierce competitor, but not a poor sport. He wants to be just like his father and he loves his brother more than anyone else in the world.

Quite frankly, he's got us all wrapped around his not-so-little-anymore pinkie finger.

And, in spite of my protests otherwise, he will turn fourteen in just three days.

The clock is ticking on our time with this one. Here's hoping it slows down long enough for me to enjoy it.

Just when you think there's nothing to post about...

Last Friday, the Husband lost his iPad.

He left it on a Delta Airlines flight to who knows where.

Yes. The brand new iPad that I surprised him with on Christmas morning.

The iPad that I so sneakily hoarded funds in order to keep a surprise from him, rather than just plunking down the American Express.

And, due to my incredibly sneaky hoarding of funds, when its loss came to our life, there was no American Express to step up and replace it.

I asked. But, strangely, they weren't interested in replacing an iPad that they didn't help us purchase.

Jerks.

We both have been in mourning about it for several days now. [I mean, thank heavens our diamond shoes are still safe. At least THAT gives us some consolation in our bleak, bleak trials of life.]

Well, yesterday afternoon, the Husband received a call from Delta that we never thought would come.

The iPad? Not lost! Turned in by some good samaritan and on its way to St. Louis. It's traveled to a few cities and seen the sights, but it will be in our hot little hands come Wednesday.

I know it's trivial, and I know it's just a thing, but it makes me oh, so happy.

There really ARE some decent people left in the world.

And wherever they are, whatever they are doing, I hope life sends lots of good things their way.

Playing catch up

Last night, about 11 p.m., as I was dozing off to the high brow intelligence that is the programming on E!, I received a concerned text from none other than my biggest heckler brother Dan.

He was concerned that something was wrong.

You know, because I haven't blogged in about eleventy billion days.

I told him that I've been extremely busy lately, but all of it has been boring. Nothing exciting has happened and I can't imagine writing about any of it.

He suggested a post in tribute to his fine self, and I thought about that for all of two seconds. Then I reasoned that my boring was WAY more interesting for all of us than that.

Sorry, Dan.

Prepare to be astounded. It's been all kinds of awesome around here.

Like, for instance, when I took the kids for a nutritious meal at the Panda and Chase found this fortune inside a cookie:

Truer words have never been spoken. Man I love that kid.

Also of note was turning the corner while shopping at an electronics store last week and finding this smart aleck with his nose buried studiously in what I can only assume by his expression is the most awesome book ever written:

But where I've most enjoyed spending my time is the Pinterest.

Okay, fine, yes, I admit it. Pinterest is about the greatest thing that has ever happened to mankind, not counting the advent of diet coke. I eat every bad word I ever said about it and invite you to come find me on there. My boards? They pretty much rock.

An especially fantastic Pinterest find was the sock bun curls tutorial, which I promptly tried out on my skeptical, yet willing, daughter. The before photo:

And the after:

Which, yes, I realize is not very focused and taken with a crappy iphone camera, but whatever. I also enjoy using the Instagram, and invite you all to come join me there. It's highly addictive, but oh so fun. I am @clhalverson. Come see more of my everyday drivel, won't you?

A gorgeous photo shoot I've been playing with that was taken with a FAR better camera was with these lovelies, who surprised us by visiting over Christmas. While I still haven't taken off the weight I gained from that week alone, it was fabulously wonderful to spend time with them:

And, that, dear friends, is a faithful narrative of all my dealings for the past few weeks. Not pictured is the many lunches, diet cokes, chats with friends, and hot cups of tea sipped while snuggled under a blanket with a good book. January is treating me rather well, I'd say. And coupled with the fact that today is going to be in the 60s, I just might declare it my favorite St. Louis winter yet.

I'll try to be better about posting. Not just for the three of you who still check every day, but for me. So I don't forget the fabulously boring and incredibly, wonderfully ordinary life I am living.

I love it.

It's a win-win for everybody

A few days ago, McKay asked me to pick up some new shoelaces for his sneakers.

Being the responsible, loving parent that I am, I forgot.

And forgot.

And, yes, child protective services, I forgot again.

Yesterday, when he was nagging reminding me yet again, I told him to write me a note and I would BE SURE to pick them up.

And, since I am all kinds of awesome, I completely forgot all about it.

Until, I opened up the fridge and saw this note taped to my beverage of choice:

In case you can't read his terrible chicken scratch, it says, "Buy McKay black sport SHOELACES."

When I asked him about the unusual location for his reminder note, he simply said, "I put it where I knew you would be going the most times in a single day."

I think that means one of three things:

a) I have a serious diet coke addiction and my children are left in no doubt of it
b) I have an awesomely creative son who knows how to get the job done
c) all of the above

What do you think? I'm voting C.

Either way it's a win-win: Kid gets his shoelaces; mama gets her brown liquid drink on. Happiness all around.

The extraordinary ordinary

The house is quiet but for the sound of pages turning, novels held in the hands of my boys. Their tired lids fight to finish just one more chapter before sleep washes over them. I look up periodically as one of them pads down the hall to share a funny part with me. I smile, taking in their broad shoulders and long limbs. These boys that are turning into men right under my nose. And me, powerless to stop them.

Hannah has finally succumbed to sleep, and tonight that is no small victory. Her repeated pleas to sleep by my side were rejected, one after the other, each more creative in its attempt to persuade. Were it not for the cold I am fighting, I would have given in. Her snuggles keep me company most nights in my life as a travel widow. In spite of her flailing limbs and all-night-thrashing, her presence is comforting in a quiet bed. But tonight, I need rest above all else. The calendar this week is dotted with line after line of tasks and activities, all of which will require my best self.

The phone rings, and a familiar voice closes the gap of miles that lie between us. I share every moment, even the ones mundane. He laughs at our idiosyncrasies, the ones he knows so well. He vents a little of his own day, and my heart aches for him and the stress of his life. We say goodnight, and I offer a prayer of gratitude for the good man that he is. For his capacity to love that is seemingly endless.

I weigh the choices before me and pick up a book instead of a remote. I relish the extraordinary ordinary that is my life. I snuggle under a blanket and close another day. I am grateful and humbled by the peace I feel deep in my soul.

Life is extraordinarily good.