The Second Annual Boring Mitchell Christmas Letter (2002)

After last year’s letter was e-mailed to me from a stranger in New Zealand, and a subscription-selling web-site popped up, I knew the demand for more yearly lowlights was at its peak. For the sake of decency, I’ve deleted all references to Ozzy Osbourne, and for aesthetic reasons, I’ll make no mention of Michael Jackson’s nose.

We started 2002 with a new addition: an Australian shepherd mix named Buzz. He’s a misfit, but he’s got more manners and brains in his nub of a tail than our two prior pure-bred spastic Labs put together.

Luke played soccer in the spring and T-ball in the fall. Each game was filled with screaming and frustration. And that was just the parents. He toughed the seasons out in spite of his mother’s attempts to embarrass him into becoming more athletic. In the summer, he had swimming lessons. He took to the water like a mob victim in concrete shoes. No problems going under. He then went to various camps and vacation Bible schools while I made him paranoid about being abducted or catching the West Nile virus. He started Kindergarten in the fall. We struggled over whether to keep him in the small, safe, private school or send him to the big, scary, public school. We opted for public, figuring the savings can be spent later on tutoring, psychotherapy, or bail. Luke did have some behavior problems--mostly related to pulling his imagination out and playing with it too much. On the upside, he’ll be tested for the gifted & talented program. He may have no respect for authority, but it’s only because he’s a genius. He’s also quite the ladies’ man. He juggles so many girlfriends, his best friend dubbed him “The Bachelor.” He turned six and rejected the expensive GameBoy set we got him in favor of Spider Man toys and art supplies. So we like what we see in him so far. Luke’s quote of the year: “Mom, I want to watch Bambi. That’s a great movie about deer hunting.” First runner-up--Katy: “Luke pushed me!” Mom: “Did you push her?” Luke: “Actually, I kicked her ‘cause she wasn’t using her manners properly.”

Katy started gymnastics. She took to the bars like Anna Nicole Smith at a buffet dinner. She ate it up. She mastered potty training, and her agility over the toilet rivals that of a gymnast on a pommel horse. (She’s still perfecting her dismount.) I’ve now seen every public restroom in a 50-mile radius. For Halloween, Luke was the scarecrow while Katy went as a flying monkey. She was in that costume less than an hour before she upchucked all over it, but that didn’t stop her from trick-or-treating. For her third birthday, I mortgaged our home and had a fancy dress-up party for her. She’s a pure delight most of the time, but her threatening threes force us to walk a minefield of random inappropriate emotions that wreak havoc with far-reaching effects. In fact, our Wal-Mart took out a restraining order against her. But a temper tantrum in plastic high heels does rank high on the entertainment value scale. Katy’s quote of the year: “Mommy, Luke called me a tattletale!” She didn’t get it.

My first veteran’s case proved successful. It was nice to get a paycheck again, even though we spent some of it on a new kitchen sink to make my real job a little more glamorous. Maybe my next check can get me a new vacuum cleaner. I finished a clinical trial for an investigational drug. I’d been hoping the drug’s side-effects included decreased muscle tone, shortness of temper, and short-term memory loss, but no such luck; I was on the placebo. I joined an exercise cult called Jazzercise and haven’t been back to yoga since the teacher had us chant something like “gitchee, gitchee, ya-ya-ya” and I had to fake a coughing fit as I left giggling tearfully. I spent the rest of my free time with writing classes, Bible study, and deleting junk mail from my inbox. I went to San Diego for a legal seminar while Mike went to the Czech Republic to do some NATO instructing. He called me from there just to say he could get a pint of beer for 30 cents. The savings came in handy as that brief call set us back $30. In May, I went on a scrapbooking retreat. It was cheaper and more effective than sending me to the nuthouse. In June, Mike went to Rhode Island to do an airshow. He called from there to tell me how awesome the fresh seafood was just as I was cooking up fish sticks for the kids. After surviving torrential floods this summer, we left our ark and drove to Colorado for a vacation. There, I discovered that I’m the anti-horse whisperer. Luke, of course, was a natural. Soon after we returned, Mike went on a guys’ fishing trip to Durango, then spent a week in New Orleans. Meanwhile, I held down the fort by killing scorpions and cleaning dog diarrhea out of my carpet at 3:00 a.m. while I had strep throat. Mike had a great time. We celebrated our 11th anniversary and decided to improve our communication by trying to stay in the same room when we talk. Mike finally came to terms with the fact that every time we travel, I pack more stuff than he deems necessary, while I decided to look the other way when he puts recyclables in the trash. We’ve also started a new tradition of driving all over town in bad weather with cranky kids as we bicker over Christmas tree selection and price. For next year, I resolve to improve my housekeeping skills so the kids don’t ever again approach me saying, “Look what we found under the futon!” as they display a dried-up apple dotted with kid-size bites. I also hope to avoid napping in the carpool line again. There’s nothing more embarrassing than waking up to honking horns and jeering fourth graders pounding on your car windows. Mike will try to avoid the need for any major joint replacements while he races his new motorcycle, and he’s planning to devote the coming year to deciding what he wants to be if he grows up. We look forward to a new year of misadventures, including spending the better part of 2003 learning how to operate our new digital camera. We wish you the happiest of holidays and a new year full of blessings.

Love, Jill, Mike, Luke & Katy