Holiday Decoration’s Right to Life

As we move away from New Year’s Day and head back into the normal grind of work and school, it is time to take down the decorations from the holidays.  My wife is a big fan of the holidays, and demonstrates this via the decorations around the house.  While she has many decorations for all of the seasons and holidays throughout the year, by far Christmas is the holiday she loves more than any other.  We have four large boxes of decorations and many smaller ones.  We even have several larger decorations that have their own box and just live on the storage shelves in the basement during the non-holiday portion of the year.

Growing up, my mother would put out her fair share of decorations, but nothing to the degree that my wife does – so this has truly been a unique experience for me during our marriage.  While I know my wife is not fanatical like others, she does OK.  We are at a point where we could decorate three trees.  We haven’t gotten there yet – stopping at two trees the past few years, but we have acquired a third tree from my parents – so we will probably get there in 2010.  In addition to the tree decorations, nearly every table top throughout the house gets a few well placed ornaments / decorations.

Currently as I type this my wife is busy putting the decorations away.  She carefully matches each item up with the original packaging it came in, and then places it in the proper spot in one of the larger boxes.  This process began for about two hours last night and will occupy much of her time today. 

I know many of you are probably thinking, why doesn’t he stop blogging and go help her?  I would, but you have to understand one key fact.  She doesn’t want my help.  My role is simply to carry the full boxes back down to the basement and place them on the storage shelf.  She figures it is the only de-decorating job I can do without messing something up.  And she is probably right.  See, when I was a kid, the majority of our tree decorations were hand-made things with the occasional purchased ornaments.  These ornaments were kept in a brown paper bag you carried your groceries home in from the store.  So when it was time to take down the tree, we would quickly pull off the ornaments and toss them in the bag.  There was no special boxes, tissue paper, foam protection, or anything of the like. 

Didn’t this mean that some ornaments were damaged or broken?  Of course, but in my mind, that was the way to control the over population of holiday decorations / ornaments.  I figured it is acceptable to lose 5% of your supply each year – especially, if like my wife, you are purchasing or making (children school and scouting crafts) new ornaments each year. 

So this is where my wife and I part company in our beliefs.  She believes that every ornament is a special ornament and is protected to the fullest extent possible.  I have called this the Ornament Right to Life Model.  I prescribe to a Darwinian Model of Ornaments that the strongest shall survive.  Unfortunately, my model is not permitted the opportunity to be practiced or tested in my house.  In the past when I have attempted to help, comments have been made that clearly indicate that my assistance is neither needed nor valued.  Basically, my wife has not issued to me a decorating or de-decorating license.  My sole purpose is to put up the tree, make sure the lights work and are strung, and then get out-of-the-way - except for the occasional lifting and moving of heavy boxes.

So, during this time of holiday clean-up, I will be looking for other things to occupy my time.  Anyone know what time the football games are today?

Holiday Story Telling

As my family has gotten together at various points in the past, I have found myself not often looking forward to these gatherings.  In recent years, the thought of getting together has often caused feelings of anxiety.  I am not exactly sure when or how this began, but it has become the predominant thought.

Deep down I know we are truly blessed.  Both my wife’s parents and my parents are alive, in good health, and still living on their own in their own homes.  Considering my in-laws are in the mid-80′s and my parents in their early 70′s (my wife and I are 3-months apart in age – there is an entirely different story embedded in the age difference of our parents.  Maybe I’ll tell this at another time), that is pretty impressive.  Both sets of parents live within 15 minutes of us – as does my younger brother, his wife, and his two children.  Between my children and his, the oldest is nearly 13 and the youngest 4-1/2.

While the diverse range of age and experience is a blessing, it is also the key source of tension.  In my opinion, the expectations of the different generations creates a lot of the issues.  It would probably make for a fascinating study to observe how each of us handles the tension.  For my part, I tend to keep it all in.  Christmas dinner is always at my house, so I find I get tied up in food preparation, food serving, and dinner clean-up.  The main reason for this is to avoid the potential situations that I believe will come up.  Despite my best efforts though, someone always seem to suck me into some drama – but at least I can hold it off for a while.

But something different happened this year.  At last Thursday’s Christmas Eve Mass, the associate pastor at my church gave an excellent homily about how families tell stories during important gatherings.  He talked about how the stories of the Bible were passed down for many generations through word of mouth.  I have heard similar stories about this in the past, but his message has stuck with me this week.  As we gathered for dinner last Friday, I found myself relaxing a bit more and focusing more on listening.  There are some great stories to be told between my father-in-law who was in WWII down to my nearly teenage daughter who is just beginning to understand the value of family history and her contribution to the make-up of the family. 

While I have heard most of the stories before, I realize that is what makes getting together as a family important.  The only way the stories can get passed down and savored is in the telling and retelling of the stories.  The trick with stories is that you must have someone willing to listen.  The younger children in our group haven’t quite gotten to the point of telling stories, but their time is coming.  I honestly can’t wait to hear how they tell their stories.  I only hope the older ones amongst us give them their due when it is time to tell their stories.  The first step in making sure that happens is by making sure that each story-teller has listeners.  If we demonstrate that for them, then we set a new expectation that everyone deserves to be listened too.

So, as we gather for New Year’s and events throughout the coming year, I truly hope I can keep the message of my priest clearly in mind.  If I can, there is proof that important changes can come from the stories told by others.

Pumpkin the Cat Dead at 14

Pumpkin Arrives - October 1995

Anyone who knows me is aware that the family cat (Pumpkin) and I didn’t often get along.  We had a love-hate relationship.  I would torment her at times; she would totally ignore me.  Of course, my main source of tormenting her was forcing her to sit with me when she would rather be anywhere else.

However, each day we did have a bonding moment.  Whenever I would come out of the shower, she would be waiting on the end of the bed wishing to be brushed.  I was happy to do it and was usually rewarded with a purr.

Truthfully though, I saw Pumpkin as an annoyance and would often joke about dancing on her grave when she died.  That was until yesterday.

After a weekend of her throwing up and having loose bowel movements around the house, I took her to the Veterinarian Monday morning to see what flu-like kitty bug she had gotten and how could we cure it.  What I found out 45 minutes later was that her kidney disease they discovered last winter had gotten much worse.   My options?  Hospitalization to bring some of her blood levels back in line, a version of home treatment, or euthanasia.  The Veterinarian’s opinion about options 1 & 2 were that we would buy a few months at best. 

Shocked at the decision in front of me, I chose the decision I had often joked about – let’s put her down.  This is the first time I have ever had to make that decision for a pet.  Making it a bit harder was having my daughters with me – who are off school this week.

About 45 minutes later, after my wife arrived, everyone had a chance to say good-bye, my family left and I was alone with the doctor as we waited for Pumpkin to “fall asleep.” 

 My immediate reaction?  I cried – for many reasons.  I cried because I knew my daughters were hurting.  I cried because I knew my wife was sad.  Despite the many problems we had with Pumpkin in recent years – Ellen was still the one who picked her out of a box when she was five weeks old and decided to keep her.  See, Pumpkin and her brother had been abandoned when they were maybe four or five weeks old and were found one morning on the street under a car by one of Ellen’s employees.  So, Ellen had a major connection that no amount of soiled carpets, chewed up documents, or broken Christmas Ornaments will ever take away.

I also cried because a member of our family was now dead after 14 years.  That deserves crying.  However, the thought that still breaks my heart some 34 hours later, is the feeling that I finally fulfilled my many comments made in jest.  “I killed the cat.”

Could we have done more?  Should we have done more?  I don’t know.  The Veterinarian left it up to me saying she supported any of the three options.  Pumpkin was not well, and she obviously didn’t feel well.  She was very dehydrated.  But I will be left with the knowledge that when I grabbed her on Monday to put her in the cat carrier, she was at her water bowl drinking.

Pumpkin's Last Photo - November 19, 2009

So, in a few weeks I will have her ashes returned to me.  I will have my chance to “dance on her grave.”  Will I?  Yes I will - but not because I am excited she is dead.  We plan to plant a tree next spring in her honor in our backyard.  We’ll put her ashes with the tree – and yes we will dance.  But we will dance to celebrate her life!  14 years deserves to be honored!

Statue of Liberty – what a view!!

Reaching the Crown of Lady Liberty

In recent summers, I have had a tradition where I ask the kids for some day trip ideas.  We then take vacation days and go on “mom field trips”.  When they were little it was always a local zoo, or the aquarium. Now their older and have more elaborate requests.  This summer Sydney said she wanted to climb the Statue of Liberty.  The last time I visited the Statue of Liberty, I was a Girl Scout.

I figured they were both old enough to tolerate the drive up and the inevitable security, so I said sure! So did the rest of the planet. Since they just reopened the Statue for climbing, the first available tickets (when I looked in late June) were for late October. Since the kids had a day off in mid-November, I decided our summer trip would become a fall one.  I convinced Jerry to come along, but he said “no” to the climb – small space, too high up. Besides, the ticket sales person said if you were over 6 feet and had any fear of heights, they recommended you stay on the ground and wave.

November 16th, off we went. The 2 1/2-ish hour drive wasn’t too bad. We got there with plenty of time to spare before our 11 am check in. Got the tickets, made it through the airport security for the ferry and off we went to Liberty Island.

Once we got to Liberty Island we had to check in, show ID, and get special wrist bands showing I had paid to climb to the crown. Then it was off for more security! It was confusing, because with our wrist bands you got to skip a lot of lines, but you had to constantly ask a park ranger where you were suppose to go, and show your wrist band. The security to get into the Statue itself was tight. You had to stand in a booth, get air shot at you, and then the computer thought about what it just registered. Then you went through regular airport type security on top of that.

Once you get into the Statue, we got to see the original torch (and pose for a photo), then go on through a museum about the origin of the Statue, her creators, the fundraising to get her built, etc. I had to read the stuff fast, or the kids got way to far ahead of me!

The nice park ranger informed us that usually there is an elevator you can take to the top of the pedestal, which gets you out of 150 steps. But the elevator is curently broken……  so we climbed 150 steps to the top of the pedestal, then another 202 from the base of the Statue to her crown. Wow!!! The girls were undaunted. Off we went!

The steps aren’t too bad at first, but the last 20 or so to the top of the pedestal are narrower and a lot steeper than the others. I think they are preparing us! When we get to the top of the pedestal, we show our wrist bands and head off to another staircase. The ranger guarding this one cuts off our bands and wishes us luck. 202 more to go! Now the staircase is a tight, tight spiral. Jerry would have walked up this hunchbacked. My feet only fit on securely if I turn them slightly sideways. I’m thinking “Jerry’s feet wouldn’t even fit on these…”. It doesn’t seem like 202 steps, and it goes pretty quickly, considering how tight the spiral is and how much you have to concentrate on where your feet are.

When we make it to the top it is all worth it! The view is phenomenal! New  York harbor, filled with boats and the New York skyline are all laid out in front of us. And it is a beautiful, clear day. The viewing area is a lot smaller than I remember. There are 6 of us up there at the same time, and I really don’t want any more bodies crowded up there. There are 2 park rangers manning the crown and they give us some background and “fun facts” on the statue. After we take in the view and get a few pictures, we climb back down.

The good news is, there is an up staircase and a down staircase. Good thing! Each staircase is only 1 body wide. The freaky part is that the stair area is encased in plexiglass. So you can see the inside “bones” of the statue, the copper, the way to climb up to her torch, and how far down the bottom is. You don’t notice this on the way up, because all you see is the steps in front of you. But you definitely notice it on the way down! It is an awesome view, once you get over any fear of being able to see way down to the bottom. Sydney was freaked out by the view, so she climbed down backwards.

Once we got to the top of the pedestal, we stepped out to look at the view, take more photos and find Jerry. After a bit of a search, we found him. After a few tries, we got his attention (and a couple other guys who answered to “Dad”). Then we continued our climb down. (stopping at each level on the pedestal to make sure Dad still could see us). Overall, it was a good day. Weather was perfect, climb was good. I wish we had stopped at Ellis Island. I really wanted to tour the museum. But that just gives me an excuse for a “mom field trip” in the spring!

A Girl’s 10th Birthday Party

Yesterday was my youngest daughter’s 10th birthday.  Don’t even get me started on how old my wife and I now feel that both of our daughter’s ages are in the double-digits.  Ellen has come up with many creative ways to express the number 10 without using a number with two digits.

Honestly the age thing doesn’t really bother me.  I find that I enjoy my daughters more and more the older they get.  While certain parts of having toddlers is fun, I really enjoy interacting with my children on an intellectual basis more than I ever did any of the events you experience with toddlers.

But as much as I love my daughters, the thing I hate more than anything is their birthday parties.  I know, I am being an old stick in the mud – but I just don’t have much fun at their parties.  Perhaps part of it is because they are girls and I am so not; but I don’t think that is it alone.  True, I have suffered through some interesting parties.  I have attended four “spa-type” parties where they get their hair and nails done up, a couple of princess theme parties, two indoor ball pit / jungle gym parties, a bowling party, a High School Musical 3 movie party, and yesterday a skating party.

At all of these parties, my attendance is not necessary, but demanded by my daughters.  I guess I should be honored as I am the only “boy” either of them have allowed at their party in over five years.  However, my role usually becomes one of four things:

1.  Take pictures

2.  Assist with clean-up / transition from craft table to cake and ice cream

3.  Look excited for the silly gifts they get

4.  Occasionally raise my voice to lower the overall screaming volume at the party.

I think it is #4 that I hate the most.  What I have found is, if you get a group of girls together (really doesn’t matter the age) the volume of speech, screaming, and general silliness goes to level 10+.  It is truly unbelievable what these girls can do as a group. 

Even worst than the volume – but helps contribute to it, is the competition that seems to occur with all of the girls.  Each year I give my daughters the reminder that they need to pay attention to all of their guests, and not just their BFF’s.  I know this is difficult for them.  But what makes it even harder is the fact that the majority of the guests spend most of the party trying to be “next to” the birthday girl – even to the point of sitting on their lap.  It is almost like their self-worth is dependant on having time next to the birthday girl.  As an adult I know this is silly – but I guess I can understand it from the point of view of a 9, 10, 11, or even 12 year-old.  But I still can’t help shaking my head.  

The competition happens when they are at the table for cake, it happens when they are opening presents, and it went off the charts yesterday when we left the house in two cars to take the girls ice skating.  When my daughter decided to ride with two friends in my wife’s car – it became obvious that the vehicle my oldest daughter and I were in charge of became undesirable.  It was almost like my wife’s car became “Air Force One” and my car was just another airplane.

Fortunately it didn’t ruin the party – but I was worried during the drive.  The girls in my car were very quiet for the 10 minute ride.   I guess I am not as “cool” to other 9 and 10 year-olds as I seem to be to my 10 year-old.  Wow – that was hard to say.  Maybe I really am old?!