The Christmas Spin 2013

Alex making cotton candy @ Uncle Jake's house, March 2013: Life spun just tastes better!

 

As a general rule, I loathe January. The excitement of the holidays has been banished like a ball of wadded wrapping paper. Valentine's Day, paper hearts and chocolate is a little too far off and the hope of spring seems to be frozen in time with no hint of an early thaw. This year it feels like I blinked and December was over, so, here it is, January 8 and I’m just now sitting down to write our Christmas letter (here is the part where I know my sole purpose on earth is to make other people feel less incompetent by comparison to my continual incompetence).

Everyone has heard of selective listening; where you only hear what you want to hear: for example, someone could say to me, “When choosing between the Haagen-Dazs butter pecan milk shake at 1029 calories and 97 fat grams per serving and two scoops of midnight chocolate ice cream at 767 calories and 48 fat grams per serving; midnight chocolate ice cream would be the healthier choice” and all that I would hear was, “Midnight chocolate ice cream is healthy.” And subsequently ditch the broccoli and order a whole gallon just so I could make sure I covered my fiber intake for the day. Christmas letters often included selective memory sharing; you only remember and share the moments in your life that don’t render you catatonic.

Me and my monkeys at the Teton County Fair in Jackson, Wyoming, July 2013 (Shortly before the Zipper caused an unzipping of my resolve not to get sick this year on rides.....)

If this letter was written by the glow of the Christmas tree, I can assure you I would be indulging in selective memory writing….however….this letter is written in the shadows by the empty cardboard boxes that I should have already filled with Christmas decoration; but I was too busy eating midnight chocolate ice cream (and I didn’t want to spill any on the snow globes) to comply. January means real life…but, as a New Year twist, and as an act of full disclosure, I will reveal my magician skills of “spinning” which is where you take a whole chunk of information and twist and turn it until it becomes the information that you want to share. There is real life and spun life; which is life that melts on your tongue wisp by wistful wisp, spun life is as beautiul as fairy wings and as sweet as cotton candy.

2013 In Review

Alex (15) is growing up and making incredible progress in his life. He has started going to early morning seminary (a before school youth meeting for kids in our church). It STARTS at 6 am, and morning is rough for Alex. Right before Christmas break I could hear him lamenting at Russ one morning at 5:30 am, “I don’t understand why God thought it would be such a brilliant plan to drag people out of their beds at the butt crack of dawn to learn about Jesus. Can’t we just learn about Jesus at an hour that humans are actually supposed to be awake and functioning? For someone who is a genius and could create a whole world, it doesn’t really seem like He thought this thing through!!!”

And while we are on the topic of Alex and religion, let’s just say that since we moved to Texas, Alex has balked at embracing his new little flock, thus as a general rule both Russ and I would rather saw off our limbs with a dull spoon than take our son to church on Sunday (although watching him oppose everyone’s callings from the back row, or hissing at people when they sit down in the pew ahead of us, “Too Close!! Too CLOSE!!!’ does have its entertainment value). We do take (and by take I mean drag) him to church, which means most Sundays we spend the majority of our time walking the halls with him like a temperamental toddler while he laments about how these Texan’s are not HIS people (Which always reminds me of Moses, and I often break into a spiritual and sing in a low tenor, “Let my people go…..” which makes Alex MOAN out loud….). Obviously we are well fed spiritually! Stuffed! Renewed! No room for improvement. Sigh contentedly.

The Spin: Alex is going to Seminary! He’s growing up so fast! But sometimes at church I look at him and am reminded of the little boy I used to know all those years ago.

Alex hates the humidity and heat of Texas, but he does love history, so one day last September we took my parents to visit the Alamo. While we were milling about the quarters, Alex was getting more and more overheated and overwhelmed by the press of people all around, I could tell he was on edge as we listened to some cute little veterans talk about the importance of remembering the Alamo and how grateful we should be for those who fought so we could live in such a beautiful place. Alex, baffled at this assumption that Texas (as comparison to the Tetons!!!!!!) was beautiful, snapped, and shouted while wildly gesturing his arms out in front of him, “What about this place is worth remembering?!! I wish they would have forgotten The Alamo, then this “beautiful” (he does quotes in the air) place would belong to Mexico and I wouldn’t have to live in this God-forsaken part of the planet!!” I quickly steered Alex away from the crowd –careful to avoid those Texans breathing heavily through their nostrils with their twitching fingers reaching for the inside pocket of their jean jackets- and steer him towards the exit. “Thank you for your service.” I whispered hastily to the stunned veteran as I dropped a five spot in his bucket on the way out.

The Spin: Alex loves history, he’s working on finding the beauty of Texas, but it’s hard when he misses the Tetons of Wyoming so much.

The Tetons @ sunset, winter 2013 (insert dramatic sigh).

Spencer (13) is the child God gave me as a means of assurance that the struggles my children have are not 100 percent the fault of my flawed parenting. He is the star pupil, on the honor roll and is an over achiever. He loves drama, choir, writing, academic competitions and has a quick wit that makes me want to sigh contentedly. He is the child who starts unloading senior citizen’s grocery carts onto the conveyer belt while we are waiting in the checkout line and chases down haggard mother’s who have dropped their wallets. He is kind and sweet and an insomniac! Yes. The child struggles with sleep (and by struggles I mean he doesn’t). The same qualities that will make him an amazing adult make his life as a 13 year old middle school 7^th grader at times, miserable. He comes to me, sometimes 2, 3 in the morning, and says such things as, “I’m concerned about the quality of Alex’s life!” and “Do you feel like reciprocal connections can be found in 7^th grade?” We huddle together, the two of us, both insomniacs, discuss if the kid in PE who said, “Why don’t you move back to Ireland you @#$%redhead!” is actually a member of the “Kick a Ginger” club Spencer found on the internet, and brainstorm ways to raise enough money to fund no-kill shelters across America. He is divine. And he is exhausted.

Spencer shielding me from the wind; Daytona Beach FL 2013

The Spin: The best part about the day happens at night when Spencer and I try to solve the world’s problems as we cuddle together in bed.     

Logan (11) is comic relief in human form.  This fall, Spencer, Logan and I met my parents in Daytona Beach Florida; we had a blast. While visiting the boys played hard and stayed up late. One night as I was lying in the bed next to Logan, I watched as Logan deep in sleep accidently hit a cup of water on the night stand, knocking it onto his lap. I jumped up the same time he did and as he raced for the bathroom, I hurriedly pulled off the sheets and laid a blanket down for him and threw him another pair of pajama pants. He gratefully slipped on the dry PJ’s and climbed back into bed disaster abated.

The next day I sat directly in front of Logan on a packed-to-the-gills flight departing Daytona Beach, and as the flight attendant finished her safety demonstration, Logan, leaned forward to whisper (and by whisper I mean shout) into my ear, “So, mom, do you remember the puberty video I watched last winter….” He began…. The talking of the other passengers around me started to dissipate, “Especially that part about young boys like me and those special types of dreams they are suppose to have?” Suddenly the plane was deadly silent. “Let’s talk about it later?”  I melodically suggested. “Mom there is nothing to be ashamed of here!” Logan insisted, “This is all a very natural procedure that the male species of eleven to fifteen years of age goes through, or so the video assured me…” “LOGAN!”  I hissed, “lets’ talk about it later…” (I mentally berated myself for not having a snack to stuff in his mouth) “All that I’m saying mom is that last night there seemed to be some moisture that I’m pretty sure was not pee on my underwear. I’m trying to remember what the puberty video said about this phenomenon, something about nocturnal emotions…but I can’t quiet remember….” “Logan,” I interrupted again, “Please! Let’s talk about this when we can do it more privately.” “Mom, mom, mom....” Logan sighs heavily, “This is happening woman, your little boy is growing up…you can hide your head in the sand like an ostrich but it doesn’t change the fact that I am becoming a man. I just can’t figure out what the whole nocturnal thing means…maybe that’s the part where they passed out tootsie rolls during the puberty video and I got distracted unwrapping the candy and missed the explanation…so, this is the information I need from you; what exactly do those types of dreams mean again?” Every man on that plane must have fist bumped Logan at least a dozen times as he made his way up the aisle after landing….

The Spin: Logan is growing up! He’s not my little boy anymore.

Logan living the dream in Florida! 2013

 

As for Russ, he continues to work for the Department of Defense and has worked hard to perfect his house-husband skills during 2013. I have been traveling more than either one of us likes at times, leaving him to hold down the fort. He can now make eggs, ramen AND cold cereal. He is an expert at doing the laundry with only one casualty; apparently the only fitted sheet with deep enough pockets to stay on our king size bed has a tear in it. Russ, ever the vigilant house husband fixed the tear by placing a long strip of duct tape underneath it. I have not been affected by this trajedy since it’s on his side of the bed, (it may have on occasion stuck to his hair). The only thing on Russ’ Christmas list was sheets. Sadly Russ did NOT get new sheets for Christmas, since obviously he was on the naughty list, but, gratefully his birthday is just around the corner. He is a good husband and a good dad; however he is never around when the topic of puberty videos comes up (hence his spot on the naughty list) which is something he needs to work on for 2014.

Russ and Boo bear tucked into bed (shortly before I kicked him out...Boo, not Russ...well...) 2013

 

 

The Spin: I am a tiger in bed :)

(I'm kidding mom! Simmer down!)

As for me, who needs to spin life, when the life you have is utter perfection? Love my family, love my friends and LOVE the nutritional and restorative benefits of midnight chocolate ice cream.

 Happy New Year from the Tidwell’s! Hope your 2014 is filled with all the things that give you joy.

The spin: Send sheets!

The best part of 2013 being over is NO MORE PINEWOOD DERBY CARS TO BUILD!