Happy 19

Dear Husband,

Nineteen years.  Wow.  When I say it out loud like that, it hardly seems possible.  It amazes me because I feel like the time with you has just flown by.  Weren’t we just two young newlyweds living in a cinderblock apartment and driving a VW Fox?

When I think back to the girl you proposed to, I laugh a little bit inside.  She was completely naïve and clueless about life.   She was insecure, lonely, and had very big hair.  She had never experienced life outside of her small bubble and did not expect great things from herself.  She did not even know that she SHOULD expect great things from herself.

I feel that I hardly resemble that girl anymore, and I literally owe that all to you.  You saw something in me that I did not even know was there.  You believed in me, loved me, pushed me to grow, and gave me the experiences in life necessary to come out of that shell and know happiness.  You took me to new cities and forced me outside of my comfort zone.  You enabled me to learn how to make new friends. 

Your career choice forced an independence on me that I would never have thought possible – and for which, I am extremely grateful.  It is this independence that I prize above all talents I possess.  I love that.  I feel such a sense of ownership and pride that I can support you and manage the home front without (most days) dissolving into a puddle of tears.  That I can navigate parenthood, home repairs, school, church, and three busy kids' schedules all on my own.  It is probably one of the greatest gifts you could have given me.  And one that I would never have attained without you.

I am so proud that our boys have someone to look to with such a strong work ethic.  They see how you love me and treat me, and they are learning.   They will be excellent husbands because of you.  I love that our Hannah can see firsthand what a good husband should look like.  She will have high standards and be choosy because she has seen what the best is.  And I can’t imagine her settling for anything less.

Thank you for always being the guy that says yes.  Yes, when I want to pursue my dreams.  Yes, when I want to get away to New York.  Yes, when I want to drag our family through Europe, even though a hotel is the last place you want to be.  Yes, when I take one ski lesson and think I’m Peekaboo Street.  Yes, when I need a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent in to.  You are quite possibly the most selfless husband there is.  You give and give, and ask little in return.  

Through all the craziness, the moves, the traveling, the long hours, and the awesome ghetto apartment, know this:  You have made all my dreams come true.  You have given me the freedom to live my life and be happy.  You have never questioned how I spend my time at home, while I know yours is spent working incredibly hard.  For me.  So that I can stay home and choose how to spend my time.

My day-to-day life is such a gift.  And I don’t think that it’s the financial security you have provided (though it certainly doesn’t hurt).  But what I think has been the root of my security and happiness is the support I have always felt from you.  You value what I do in the home.  You value my contribution, and trust it implicitly.  You gave me these three beautiful babies, and trusted me to lead them daily toward happiness.  It is that trust and sense of secure confidence that makes me strive to be better.  To be worthy of your sacrifice.  To teach our children the biggest lesson that you taught me, and that is – that they CAN do great things.  That they WILL do great things.  That they SHOULD do great things.

JDH, I love you more than these feeble words can possibly say.  My heart was yours the moment I laid eyes on you in that little house in West Jordan.  Something inside me whispered, “Hello, old friend.  It’s you...”  And there is nothing that I would trade for the happiness we have together.  You were meant for me.  I needed you and what you could give me in order to find happiness.

It sounds cliché, but you have truly made me who I am today.  Thank you for loving me, supporting me, and always making me feel beautiful.  Even those times when I am not.  ​

I love you.​

Stie

My obituary

I have a morbid fascination with reading the obituaries in the paper.  I read them every day online from the paper in the town that I grew up in.  Most of the time, I don't know the people in them.  Once in a great while, I do. ​

I think what I like about them is the story told of someone's life.  My favorites are the long, sassy ones.  The ones where the person really lived, and sucked the marrow from life.  ​Made the most of what they were given.

​So, I decided to write one of my own.  My obituary as I'd like it to read upon my death.  In about 50 years or so (I hope).  And definitely as ridiculous as I can make it.

1973 - 2065

Christie Halverson, 92, passed away peacefully in her sleep, coincidentally, at the exact same moment as her husband, Josh.  They were spending time at their beach home on Oahu, enjoyed a day of snorkeling and shaved ice, watched the sunset in each other's arms, then went to bed.  Eternally.  ​

They are survived by their three children:  McKay, 67; Chase, 65; and Hannah, 63.  They are the proud grandparents of 15 grandchildren, and 8 great-grand children.

Christie was born in November 1973 in Salt Lake City, Utah.  She married the love of her life in 1994, and they had three beautiful children together.  Their oldest, McKay, graduated high school with honors, went to BYU, and then Harvard Medical School, where he is currently teaching.  He pioneered technology that led to the cure of cancer.  He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 2035.

Their son, Chase, attended BYU, then West Point, and pursued a career in the military.  He was an Army Ranger and part of the elite team that took down the communists in North Korea and China.  He was also awarded the Medal of Honor for brokering a lasting peace in the Middle East.  ​He is currently running for president, and is favored to win the election.

Their youngest, Hannah, went to BYU and then Cornell University, where she got a PhD in literature and eventually became a best-selling author and talk show host.  She single-handedly changed the way women are viewed in the workplace, and as a result, equality is now the standard.   Her books have become world-wide bestsellers, and she won an Academy Award for the screenplay adaptation of her mother's biography.

Christie loved to travel.  She visited every continent in her lifetime, and had homes in Paris, New York City, Hawaii, and the mountains of Utah.  She ​loved broadway musicals. So much so, that she had season tickets for the last 50 years of her life.  She never missed a show.  She was awarded an honorary Tony by the grateful broadway community for her support through the years.

She was active until the very end.  She biked, skied, hiked, swam, and snorkeled, right up until her passing.  She had seemingly boundless energy and made time every day for a nap and a good book.

She had very few health problems throughout her life and a surprisingly low cholesterol number.  In fact, she was the first American to suddenly have her DNA transform into a new, rare mutation that allowed her to eat whatever she wanted and never gain weight.  This phenomenon became known as the "Christie Syndrome" and millions around the world have been blessed by her contribution to science.  The "Christie Pill" was developed shortly after this discovery, and women worldwide have adopted this as the new standard in pharmaceuticals.  Fortunately, her husband had the wisdom to invest early on in the new drug, and they were able to profit considerably from it.  Forbes named them the "Richest People Alive" in 2023.

Christie was a pioneer of fashion, as well.  She dressed stylishly up until the moment of her death.  Designers and paparazzi alike hounded the simple girl, and took cues for fashion trends from her looks.  She was a svelte size 4 for most of her life.​​  And had great skin.

Christie gave millions each year to charity, and served others tirelessly until her death.  She was beloved by all who knew her.  Her humor was her best quality, and friends say they will miss her laughter most of all.  She smiled every day.  She sucked the marrow from life and made others happy just by being around her.  She spent time with her family as often as she could.  They were her favorite people on the planet.  She will be greatly missed.​

Christie's last request was that she be cremated and scattered over her favorite beach at her home in Hawaii.  To remember her properly, her family will raise a McDonald's diet coke in her honor, and wash it down with a big, pink frosted sugar cookie.

_______

Sounds pretty good, eh?  I think so.​  Now where's that "Christie Syndrome" when I need it?  Should be hitting me anytime now...

Welcome to my new home

Hey there!  If you're reading this, you clicked over from the old Blogspot site.  Congratulations on being willing to take the big step.  I know it's a lot of work, clicking on the one link with your mouse and all.  AND on Daylight Savings Monday, no less.  Well done, you.  Glad to have you here.  I'm hoping all the meanies will stay behind at the old site and wonder why I never write anymore.  Mean people suck.

​Anyway, the reason for this little switcheroo was Blogger's inability to let me make my blog prettier without speaking the HTML language.​

​I hate the HTML.  

​So, we have a new home.  One which I hope inspires me to write a little more.  To document this life that I lead.  Because, honestly?  It's a pretty good one, current living situation notwithstanding.

​Feel free to browse around a bit.  Then leave me a comment and tell me how much you like it, mmmkay?  Cause it pretty much took all my brain power to make this happen.

For my number one fan

They say the surest way to a mama's heart is through her kids.

Never has this been more true in my life. I am painfully aware of the wondrously lush group of friends that we have been blessed to know here in St. Louis. It didn't take our impending move for us to appreciate them either. I could write posts for days about the fabulous people I'm blessed to have in my life.  Friends that really are family.  Kids that are like cousins.  Girlfriends that are the sisters I never had.  We got lucky when we moved here. Lucky because a fabulous group of women opened their hearts to me, and naturally, my kids.

One friend in particular I'd like to talk about today. And it's not because he has dubbed himself my "number one blog fan."

Though, I have to say, I am flattered to have such a distinction.  Honestly, I'm just thrilled to even HAVE a fan. (And possibly wondering who paid him off.)

But, no, the reason I want to talk about this kid is because he's amazing and deserves a blog post all his own.

Meet Nick.

Nick is a boy whom we met our first week here in 2007. Their family had just moved from Connecticut about seven months prior to our move to St. Louis.  They matched up perfectly to our family in every way.  I could write post after post about the things his mom has done for me.  Oh wait, I did.  And here, too.  Aaannnd here.

See?  Told you they were amazing.

Anyway.  Back to Nick.

Nick is the same age as Chase.  While they differ considerably in height, they are a perfect match in every other way.

Nick, much like Chase, roots for the underdog and has no tolerance for hate.  He is one of the kindest souls I've ever met.  He is funny without being obnoxious. (Yes, Mindy.  It's true.  We all find Nick hilarious.  Make peace with that.)

He cheers my boy on at every race, while brushing off any praise for his own (far superior) time.  When Nick took first place in the district junior high track meet?  He was more happy for Chase, who took third.  Because he knew just how far Chase had come.  His smile matched my boy's that day, and my heart melted at the love shown by Nick.

And last year, when he was the last in his class to graduate from primary, his attitude was as cheerful as the eager, new Sunbeams.  He didn't sulk or pout his lot in life, as many before him have done.  He raised his hand with questions, listened when I was teaching, and taught me more than he'll ever know.

Nick is not jealous or petty.  He is not concerned with appearances or the pervasive middle school curse of trying to look "cool."  He is confident, yet humble.  He is eager to have fun and wants to make sure no one gets left out.

He is my son's best friend.

Lord help him, but he loves my goofy boy, even when Chase does his Gollum impression.  He helps my boy to push himself harder with the running, and is always there to cheer him on.  He listens for hours to talk of airsoft guns and World War II.  He gives of himself freely, and asks nothing in return.

His mom quite often jokes and apologizes for his goofiness.  What she does not know is this:  There is a special place in this mama's heart for goofy boys.

After all, I'm raising two and married to one.

Goofy boys are pretty much the bomb.

So thanks, Nick, for making Chase's time here the best of his young life.  Thanks for being a true friend, and for loving us in spite of ourselves.  We fully expect to see your family often.  Texas is not that far away.

Friends like you are worth their weight in gold.

It's all about priorities

Let me paint a picture of loveliness for you.

Imagine, if you can, a tall woman with long, brownish-blondish hair.  Her weight is undetermined at this time, due to her inability to actually face the number on the scale.  She lives a good life, and does not want for food.  While she currently reminds one of a slightly chubbier version of her best self, she manages to still be attractive to her husband.  (Or so he says).

She resembles a fairly functional member of society during the hours of 10 a.m. and 10 p.m.  She showers, suffers under the blow dryer for 20 minutes, wears lipstick, and tries her best to put outfits together that do not include the words "yoga" or "stretchy pants."

But the first time each day that she ventures out of the house is a completely different story.

She. is. one. hot. mess.

Here is an artist's rendering of this anonymous woman:




She leaves the house each day at 5:40 in the a.m. to drive her son to his early morning religion class.  She literally rolls out of bed at 5:39, slips on her Uggs, grabs a coat and her glasses, and heads out the door.

In her mind, she sort of likes to imagine that she looks a little like these ladies:

image via

Tragically, in her heart of hearts, she knows that she does not.  She owns this look and is not swayed when her children mock or laugh.  This is a perfectly acceptable look for the unholy crack of dawn, peek-a-boo pudge, notwithstanding.



She is at peace with her fine self.

The sight that greets this hottie outside of her bedroom door has recently morphed from a tired, grumbly teenager, to this:



A happy little ball of sunshine and energy that is shaking keys in her face and begging to drive her vehicle.

THAT experience is a whole blog post unto itself.  But let's just say that two words sum up the palpable emotions in the car:  JOY and TERROR.

You can guess who experiences which.

On a particularly average morning, like today, for instance, this woman finds herself in a wee bit of a predicament. For, when her son exits the vehicle on the driver's side, she is faced with two choices: Get out in the freezing cold air and walk around to the driver's side, or climb over the console in the middle and stay warm.

She opted on this fine morning to choose the latter.  And as she was maneuvering her chubby not-so-slim-self over the console, her boot got caught on something and she tumbled rather quickly, ending with a very ungraceful face plant against the glass of the window.

Gathering herself together as best she could, the thought crossed her mind that, "Phew.  Thank goodness nobody saw THAT."

Well.

Clearly, the universe does have the best sense of humor.  This poor tangle of a mess looked out her window to see the eager, and frighteningly made-up faces of Malibu Barbie and her sister, Skipper, as they were out for their morning run.

image via

Embarrassed, she waved off their lipsticked offers of help, and pulled herself together as best she could.  And instead of feeling bad about herself for not looking that good, let alone being out jogging at five-freaking-thirty in the morning with full make-up on, she took her bruised face dignifiedly home, and crawled back into bed.

Like any normal human being should.

The Lucky One

A few days ago, Hannah stumbled upon a photo of the Husband and I from our wee early days as a married couple. Incredulous, she blurted out, "Wow. You MARRIED that guy?"

I laughed, maybe a little too hard, and then pointed out the error of her ways.

You see, it's not supremely surprising that I married the skinny, quiet, smart gymnast that was the Husband so long ago. After all, he was handsome, thoughtful, and hopelessly in love with me.

What's more amazing is that HE married this:

Yikes.

God bless the poor ignorant fool.  He had no idea what he was getting himself into.