Postdeluvian summer

When you hear the word "flood," your mind might conjure up images of the Mississippi overflowing its banks or the horrific effects of the tsunami of ten years ago. Sometimes floods are far less dramatic and devastating. Nevertheless, our family became "flood victims" in June, the morning after Nathan's birthday. It was just an inch or two of water, but it was enough to turn our world upside down for a few months. A supply line in our downstairs guest bathroom burst while we were sleeping, sending water pouring throughout our entire first floor. Here's a picture from that morning:

I'd like to say my floors are just extra shiny from my good housekeeping skills. But alas, that's just water covering our front room. It's amazing how much damage an inch of water can do. All our floors, baseboards, kitchen cabinets, bathroom vanity, and some drywall were ruined. (Our furniture didn't fare too badly, though some of that was damaged, too.) It's been a summer on the move: from our house, to hotels, to a local apartment, where we've been living for about six weeks. We're so lucky to have an insurance company (Farmers) who has done a great job in getting us back on our feet and helping us out while our contractor works on our home.

I plan on doing an in-depth Shutterfly photo book of this experience once our home computer is back up and running. I'm excited to see the results of our remodel, which will hopefully be done in a few weeks or so. This is our kitchen now:

But soon it's going to look a-maz-ing. AMAZING! You can already see some of our new flooring and paint in this picture. Stay tuned!

In Memory

On June 6th, as school and sporting activities were wrapping up for the year, we had a sad and surprising turn of events in our family. My maternal grandmother Verlene, more commonly known as "Nana" to us, passed away at the age of 85. Although she had been living with the slowly-progressing effects of Alzheimer's, her health had been relatively stable, despite some falls and infections. But as it turned out, her heart was just too sick, and it was, sadly, her time to go. Nana's world may have been small, but I'm so glad we were a part of it. And she was definitely a present and engaged grandmother for all of my life. These are pictures of some flowers and a collage at her small memorial:

I wrote a small tribute to her which I read at the memorial. This is the text of what I shared:

Over the recent weeks, I’ve made it a point to stop and think about the things that made Nana unique, things that those of us in her small inner circle will remember. There are the obvious outward qualities such as her memorable and perfectly-coiffured hair, her awesome long nails, her affinity for Cadillacs, hummingbirds, and pastel clothing. I still remember the dress she wore to our wedding. Nana did NOT like to shop, but I remember it was important to her to get a new dress for that day, which you, Mom, helped her pick out. And she looked beautiful. It was the perfect shade of periwinkle, which is one of your, mine, and Nana’s favorite colors of all time.

Nana also had absolutely beautiful handwriting. I think at one time or another I wanted to emulate the flowery style with which she signed many birthday cards. For most of her life, Nana had what seemed to us to be superhuman hearing. I think it was sometimes a blessing to her and sometimes a curse, but it was amazing the things she could hear. And as someone who’s always been interested in linguistics, Nana had the most unique way of putting her thoughts into words. Her euphemisms and unique pronunciations were quite endearing. I think she’s the only person who ever called me Kris. And, secretly, I liked it.

Nana and Tat were a constant presence in our childhood since they always lived nearby. They were always there for the big events, celebrations, and family get-togethers. Did I mention Nana did not like to shop? Well, even so, she made sure her shopping elf of a daughter helped her pick out the perfect birthday or Christmas gifts for me, Matt, and, later, Nathan and Evan. And on Christmas morning Nana and Tat always showed up to see our loot once Santa had arrived and we had had time to take inventory.  Nana was always a dependable chauffeur for me and Matt after school. She was never late, the Caddy was always clean, and Neil Diamond was always coming from the cassette deck.

Some people’s impact on the world is louder and more obvious than others. We all want to think, though, that we make an impact while we’re here and leave the world a better place once we’re gone. As a mom, I’ve learned that one of the most difficult, but certainly most rewarding, jobs one can have is raising children. And it’s pretty obvious to me that Nana’s greatest accomplishment and legacy to this world was having you, Mom. You are the greatest daughter, mom, and grandma that anyone could ask for. And although I know the last few years were very difficult at times, I know it was a labor of love. I saw you make every effort to make Nana as comfortable and happy as she could be. It wasn’t easy. But whether it was little things like trying to find her the perfect slippers or nightgown, or big things like moving and organizing all her living arrangements and finances, you were there to take care of her. And you helped her live the kind of life she wanted to live.

Although Nana fortunately lived a long life, I know it felt sudden and unexpected when she passed. I hope it isn’t too much of a stretch, but I was thinking back to our many family get-togethers at your house. When Nana or Tat felt it was time to leave, they left quickly. There were no lingering goodbyes, and no need to stay to the end of the night. But I think we’re all left with the same feeling: I wish she could have stayed longer.

We’ll miss you, Nana. Rest in peace. And wherever you are, I hope it’s full of color.

-----

On September 20th, our family will walk in a local Walk to End Alzheimer's in Nana's honor. Hopefully someday dementia will be something that only lives in the past. For now, we'll remember. 

Nine Years

Dear Nathan,

Time flies when you’re having fun. I recently told you about an embarrassing thing I did while picking out your birthday candle at Party City: I accidentally picked up a 7 before going back to pick up a 9. No, I didn’t really forget how old you’re going to be tomorrow (at least, I hope that’s not the case--if so, I’ll be skipping your party for a visit to the doctor’s office). But maybe part of me still sees you as a little boy, rather than a not-so-little boy.

To illustrate how not-so-little you are now, your dinner a couple of nights ago was three huge tacos with a side of chips and salsa (yeah, salsa--you wouldn’t have touched the stuff when you were a mere 7). And tonight I’ll be piling your plate with grilled asparagus (though you still won’t touch strawberries or lettuce). When I measured your height on the last day of 3rd grade and compared it with your height the first day of 3rd grade, I wasn’t altogether surprised to see you had grown nearly three inches in ten months. You’ve lost all 8 of your front baby teeth and have only a hint of a space left to the side of one of your middle teeth. Your dentist has already warned us that you’ll be needing braces. It’s not “if,” just “when.”

Your hobbies still include origami (you even joined a club with some of your friends), Lego-building with Evan, designing stories and creative characters on paper, playing on your Kindle and Chromebook, and, of course, reading. You continued to read the Harry Potter books this year on your own. You and I just watched the fifth movie together last weekend. Unfortunately, I made you wait months to watch it because it took me that long to finish the book!

You took an after school keyboarding class in both the fall and spring semesters at school. Although you didn’t particularly like practicing, you did enjoy the class, and you learned to read music pretty easily.

One thing that we’ll always remember about this year of your life is your spring Hart Pinto Baseball team, the Angels. Being one of the older and taller kids on the team gave you an advantage. And, as all the coaches agreed, you were very “coachable.” You listed to each of them and followed instructions well. You still continued to play catcher every game, something you did last season, too. But you also got to pitch for the very first time. Your first game pitching was a little rocky, and, frankly, we weren’t sure if you were ready for this leap. But after that, you really excelled! You had a very even pitch. It wasn’t extremely fast, but it was consistent, with a last-second drop that confused a lot of batters. Your team did quite well over the course of the season, winning about half the games, and your skills played a big part in that. It was sure a busy five months, since Evan had games and practices, too, but we especially enjoyed your games. We were often on the edge of our seats watching you pitch! We won’t forget one incredible out you made at home plate as catcher, too.

Your best friends continued to be Abe Shelofsky and Jack Bramson. Although the two of them actually have quite different personalities, you still click with them both. You were in class once again with Abe, and we carpooled with Jack throughout the year.

We went to Universal Studios over spring break, and you really liked some of the scary rides like The Mummy, Jurassic Park, and Transformers. We went back again right after school was out with Abe, and sometime this summer you and I should go back and ride all those scary rides again together.

You’re still a great big brother to Evan. You guys play Legos in the loft together for hours. OK--you do fight. And you fight a lot. We’re still working on that. But fortunately the fights don’t last long. And you were so supportive of Evan during his first season of baseball. You even helped out at his practices on occasion. Although sometimes silly arguments get in the way, Evan is still your number one friend and partner. You shared your room with him for a large part of the year. He was having a hard time getting to sleep because he was scared. Being in a room with you put an end to those problems. Eventually, however, sharing a room created new problems. :-) But it was sweet while it lasted, and it did help Evan.

In school you learned a lot about Santa Clarita history. The entire 3rd grade class put on a musical about the history of the SCV (you were Harry Carey), and you got to take your first field trip on a bus that traveled around the valley. You know more about Santa Clarita history than I do!

You have definitely shown an appreciation for the “goofy arts” this year. You enjoy a good joke, a good laugh, and a tricky riddle. When your class held and informal talent show, you decided to tell a one of your own riddles. You don’t mind getting up in front of your classmates. You’ve always gotten good grades on your oral presentations.

Although it’s sometimes a little hard for Daddy and I to see you get older, we are enjoying getting to share in some common interests. I took you to the Los Angeles Arboretum, where we enjoyed looking at succulents (and ultra friendly peacocks) together. Daddy has shared his knowledge of baseball and the game of Stratego (which I can’t beat you at anymore). Now we’re looking forward to showing you some of our favorite ‘80s movies.

As you turn 9, we hope you continue to show the world the “Best Nathan You Can Be,” as we often tell you. Because that Nathan is, and always will be, so special to so many people--especially to us. We love you! Happy birthday!

Love,

Mommy

Five Years

Dear Evan,

It's the eve of your fifth birthday, and I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the boy you've become since you came into the world so dramatically one fine March morning in 2009, a morning that seems like yesterday and another lifetime ago, all wrapped in one.

I guess I could sit here and talk about your quiet and unassuming nature--how you're a soft-spoken old soul who sits back to take in the world around him.

How you enjoy peace and quiet.

How you go with the flow and don't let setbacks get you down.

How you're still a bit afraid to speak your mind.

How you are shy around friends and don't like attention.

How you don't like to leave my side.

How you're an obedient rule-follower, just like your mom, dad, and brother.

How you love experimenting with new foods.

I could say all of these things.

And they would all be lies. Every last one of them.

Because, Evan, when it comes down to it, you're special because you're you. You are boisterous, fun-loving, friendly, picky, outgoing, outspoken, strong-willed, and at times, hard to please. Sometimes we butt heads (literally), and sometimes we argue, and we don't always see eye to eye. But that hasn't changed one thing: how much I love and adore you. Your liveliness, your creativity, your goofiness, your sense of fun and adventure: these are the things that make you unique and make you liked by so many (as evidenced by the nearly 60 people at your birthday party this past weekend).

You may run wild with your friends, like Al and Naomi, but you're equally happy sitting and making Perler bead creations for hours at a time. You have loved playing in your first season of baseball and all the energy it entails. But you've also recently discovered a true love of Legos and can entertain yourself with tiny-blocked worlds of your own imagination. You often yell at your brother, but no one else gets the kinds of hugs and cuddles that Nathan does. You're frequently willing to sit down to a board game with me--even ones that are somewhat above your level like Uno, Trouble, and Yahtzee. You especially like it when you win. OK--you only like it when you win.

You've made 23 fantastic friends in Fun for Fours preschool this year, and it will be awesome to see them all on the first day of kindergarten in August. You've been to numerous birthday parties, lots of park play dates, and even ran the Final Mile of the Santa Clarita Marathon with your classmates (you totally left me in the dust). You start each day by charging into the classroom to get your name tag and sit on your colored circle. You're always happy to be there. And while you sometimes give your dear old mom a hard time, you're an obedient listener and active learner at school, and you like to stand up for what's right and fair.

Recently I went back to work part-time, so you've had some extra time with Grandma T, Papa, and Uncle Matt some afternoons. You've discovered a love of chocolate-chip bagels and hikes in the brush--Grandma T gets her exercise when you're around.

Admittedly, I've spent probably too much time mourning the loss of my "baby," and wishing the "big kid" would wait just a little bit longer before he's here to stay. But that's not helpful. Because, when it comes down to it, I think you're ready to be five, Evan. You're ready for kindergarten in a few months. You're ready for all the challenges life has to offer. I just hope I can be the best mom and role-model I can be for you as we navigate this second half of your first decade together. And I hope that at least on occasion, you'll still let me hold your hand.

Happy birthday, sweetie.

I love you.

Now go get 'em.

Changing Seasons

Seasons change, and sometimes when you least expect it! While spring may be on the horizon, for most of us in Southern California, it started in December. We had almost no winter this year--temperatures near or into the 80s through almost all of January and part of February. We finally got a taste of winter over the past few days, with our first (and perhaps only?) rainstorm of the year.

But seasons change in other ways, too. For instance, February has brought with it the start of baseball season--not for one, but both boys! Evan is playing on his very first Shetland team, the Tampa Bay Rays, and Nathan is continuing his last season of Pinto, on the Anaheim Angels...or is it Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim? Whatever. We're all in up to our necks in baseball and super busy, but so far, so fun.

  

 

February was a time for celebrating some big life events, too. It was my Grandma Sam's birthday on the 12th, which is not so exciting until you consider that it was her 104th birthday. She received her well-wishes like the classy and amazing centenarian that she is. It takes a lot of strength, a lot of humor, and a lot of--who knows? magic?--to be 104 years old. She has it all and then some. We love you, Grandma Sam. You are a true inspiration.

 

With considerable help from my mom, I threw a bridal shower for my long-time dear friend, Erin. It was a small, intimate affair where my mom showed off her long-perfected strawberry-dipping skills and her newly acquired cake-pop-making ones. We will be attending Erin's wedding in two weeks, and I can't wait.

I've spent lots of my time taking pictures like these:

Nature is just so darned photogenic. But...I'll be having a little less time for, well, everything for a while because I've accepted a temporary, part-time job (saying "going back to work" sounds too scary and final to me). It's at the publishing company that I called home for a number of years. I couldn't resist the offer to work part-time, somewhat from home, in a familiar capacity, for a while. With the never-ending help of Brendan and my parents and Matt, I hope it will all work out...and be worth it. To say I have trepidation is...on point. But it's only because I want to be the best person I can be for everyone, and I don't want to throw our family life into upheaval. It's worth a try, though. Hopefully I won't look like this in my next blog post:

Then we'll know it's been a big mistake.

Twenty Years

I don't know what's crazier to think about: that today is the twentieth anniversary of the Northridge Earthquake or that it's been 20 years since I was a SENIOR in high school! Nevertheless, it was 20 years ago that I awoke with a jolt in my bedroom as the windows rattled and the furniture flipped over. It was the most violent earthquake our community, Santa Clarita, had ever known, and I sure hope it's never surpassed in that dark distinction.

The quake changed everything about my senior year at Hart High School. The gymnasium was destroyed. Our band room was a heap of broken trophies. We had to hold our graduation ceremonies at the Saugus Speedway since the local college's stadium was damaged. Some families disappeared, heading to other states in the wake of...well, too much to deal with and too much damage. My family lived in our broken house for half a year before having it repaired and remodeled the following summer. I never appreciated the stress my parents must have been under dealing with such destruction in their home and having to organize insurance, contractors, and temporary housing.

Because I was a senior in high school, I was completely self-absorbed, and also probably didn't admire and appreciate the work my grandfather George Pederson did starting that very morning. He was mayor of our city and he immediately went to City Hall to spearhead the recovery. Our city needed money--lots of it--for our schools and roadways. And because of him, we got it. I can only imagine the stress he felt during those days and months following the quake, too. It's a kind of responsibility I've never known. I know my grandpa probably doesn't realize what this day is, but there are many who still remember what he did here.

So, the clock. That's my parents' grandfather clock. My dad built it himself many years ago. It toppled over and broke in the earthquake, as so many things did. My dad propped it up against the wall and held it up with a bungee cord for quite a while. It had stopped at 4:31, the moment the quake struck. Take that, Titanic! Anyway, at some point, it went into the garage, where it stayed for years. Eventually he fixed it (amazing, I know). And today it works great. He reminded me at Christmas (when I took that photo) that originally the clock had Roman numerals, but he replaced them with Arabic ones (I had to look up the name of non-Roman numerals. I haven't been to high school in TWENTY YEARS, after all.) The clock was our "earthquake symbol," and I'm so glad Dad was able to fix it up again.

I think all the time about another earthquake striking. And, no, I'm not really prepared. If nothing else, the anniversary will be a kick in the pants for me to talk to the boys about what to do and to make sure I'm ready...as ready as any of us can be. Or we'll win the lottery and move to Hawaii. Wait...are there earthquakes in Hawaii? OK, fine. Earthquake preparedness it is!