The Fourth Annual Boring Mitchell Holiday Letter (2004)

My fan club tells me the anticipation of this report provides some of you with the sole reason for optimism during this stressful season. So here’s what I’ve thrown together to bring a ray of hope to the sickos among you who’ve come to depend on our glamorous life for cheap entertainment. The year wasn’t quite as good for us as it was for the Red Sox, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Donald Trump’s comb-over, either.

2004 was full of milestones for Katy. She mastered whistling, snapping her fingers & just like I taught her, flushing a public potty with her foot. And judging by the rate of her current fervent practice, we should soon proudly announce that she’s perfected burping the alphabet. She also precociously developed the appropriate reaction time for urgent nausea & can puke right into a toilet better than any sorority girl. That’s our little prodigy. In the Fall, she started preschool & soon wrote her first love note. (“Mom, how do you spell ‘Zachary’?”) Despite our inexcusable lack of guidance, a few days before her 5th birthday, she decided to start reading. Then she took to riding her bike without training wheels. She’s got an extremely high (but largely unmerited) self-opinion. When people say, “Katy’s so cute,” she helpfully adds, “And smart!” When told she was getting bigger, she responded, “and there’s no tellin’ how much cuter I’m gonna get.” Between distractions on the soccer field (such as dirt or grass) she played with guts & simultaneously acted as her own cheerleader. She performed almost flawlessly at her ballet recital without any obscene wardrobe malfunctions other than an ill-timed wedgie-pulling that caused another dancer to trip. She went missing one night at a vast indoor playground called Kidzville. After almost a half-hour of frantic searching, we found her blithely enjoying some strange kid’s party, having had cake & preparing to help open presents. She’s adventurous also when it comes to food. She loves sushi (especially octopus) & she’s been known to indulge in a self-made peanut butter & pimiento cheese sandwich. She’s started to curb the steroided-athlete-style temper tantrums & her infectious giggle is almost enough to outshine her brattitude. Katy’s fearlessly joyful love of life is rivaled only by our envy of it.

Luke had a big year, too. He earned his orange belt in karate, became a Wolf Cub in scouts & embarked on what promises to be an arduous & enduring stint of orthodontic intervention. He managed to kick the ball a few times & help his soccer team go undefeated, pulled two teeth on his own (to avoid Dad’s home-dentistry) & learned to play “pocket pool” while we stood in line at Wendy’s. With a hand in each front pocket, he excitedly alerted me (& an unusually attentive lunch crowd) “Look what I can do with my shorts!” Now that he’s 8, he makes such incongruous statements as “Chuck E. Cheese Rocks!” & “A kid on the bus thinks my little sister’s hot.” When I told him, “I don’t want you watching that cartoon. It looks evil,” he replied, “But mom, that’s the point!” He’s such an avid reader that his room has become a tinderbox of children’s literature. I pray he doesn’t develop a concurrent interest in pyrotechnics. When he’s not alphabetizing books or reminding me of speed limits, he enjoys donning his (adult medium) helmet & riding his dirt bike. Mike’s eyes teared up with pride when Luke told us his favorite movie was Blazing Saddles. And he similarly touched my heart when I overheard him tell Katy, “Our Mom makes great Pop-Tarts!” Luke’s quote of the year is on a sign he posted on his door. Normally, I frown on misspellings, but this one was priceless. It read: “No girls aloud.” Luke floats through life with untied shoes, an unzipped backpack & unintentionally droopy pants. He’s a bit clumsy, extremely clever & quite the little smart aleck. We can’t figure out how we were blessed with such an easygoing, thoughtful child, so we’re enjoying it while it lasts.

When Mike wasn’t planning our next meal or working on his motorcycle, he was in Poland. He made three trips for a training mission. While there, after gunning a few MiG-29s, he got to fly in one. Between Poland visits, he squeezed in a couple of dirt bike races with the Fat Old Guy team (FOGracing.com), an airshow in Louisville, a TDY to Tucson & another UT football game fly-by. After last year’s run-in with the FAA over (allegedly) flying too fast & low, this year Mike’s fly-by was criticized as “weak” for being well within FAA speed & altitude guidelines. (What’s a fighter pilot to do?) During Mike’s absences, I consoled myself with unbridled junk shopping & spray painting unnecessary flea market finds. He was also home long enough for us to buy a 3-acre lot north of town. Now, we’re trying to determine how to afford to build an inhabitable house on it. By the way, our non-smoking, litterbox-free home will be on the market soon, so take a number. In July, we took a family trip to Colorado where Mike & the kids climbed a waterfall, Luke outperformed the men on a 7-mile mega-hike & I found time for a burly woman to give me a massage & acupuncture. For our 13th anniversary night out, I cleaned the guacamole out of my wedding ring & Mike put on some cologne. I came to accept his preoccupation with watching poker on TV & he’s trying to tolerate what he considers “too many decorative pillows” on our bed. Mike will turn 41 later this month & we welcome any dietary or pharmaceutical suggestions.

For me this year, the big items on my To Do list outnumbered Bush’s cabinet replacements & Jude Law’s current movie appearances combined. I discovered I’m what’s now called “differently-abled” when it comes to time & calendar management. (I still regret that I didn’t make good use of that extra hour we got back in October.) While trying to head off behaving like one of the Desperate Housewives, I watched my caseload quadruple as my income dwindled in direct proportion. When I wasn’t fighting the VA, drawing houseplans, coming down with eBay elbow, or trying to keep up with laundry, I was hiding in the pantry eating the kids’ Halloween candy or rolling coins to feed my Starbucks addiction. The rest of my free time was spent maintaining a socially acceptable level of personal hygiene. I did find time for some therapy (a scrapbooking retreat), a self-esteem boost (my 20-year high school reunion), feeling starstruck (meeting my favorite essayist) & a trip to San Diego (taking my alter ego to a veterans’ law seminar). I turned 38 in April & gave up on hoping our babysitters think I’m cool. I experienced my own personal Fear Factor when we explored the largest, privately-owned cave in the country. Mike & the kids frolicked as if they were at Disneyland, while I (after being chased by snakes while squatting in the woods) squealed like a little girl as I faced claustrophobia, bats & scorpions. Speaking of fear, shortly after the election, my Dad suffered some more heart problems. (I knew they’d spend my inheritance; I just wish it wasn’t on medical bills.) He’s doing better now & we appreciate the thoughts & prayers. Keep ‘em coming.

For next year, I resolve to stop absent-mindedly responding “Mmmm-Hmmm” to my kids’ tuned-out queries. One afternoon, I’d apparently agreed to take them to Sea World & Fiesta Texas. They were none too pleased when we arrived at SuperTarget instead. Mike can’t wait to break in Luke’s Christmas BB gun & I look forward to impersonating Martha Stewart’s cellmate by keeping our house ready to show at all times.

We wish you all a healthy & peaceful 2005 full of laughter & gratitude.

Much Love,
The Mitchells
Jill, Mike, Luke, Katy & Buzz