The Third Annual Boring Mitchell Holiday Letter (2003)

If you thought we’d put you on our “Do Not Call” list, you’re not alone. 2003 had us busier than Jennifer Lopez’s wedding planners. So until we get our own reality show, this nauseating summary will have to do. To appease the critics, this time I’ll avoid the phrases “dumb-ass” (2001) & “dog diarrhea” (2002). (By the way, back issues are going fast!) This year, Mike logged a lot of unredeemable frequent flyer miles while I tried to master the art of priority-juggling. Through it all, our children provided boundless joy & endless aggravation.

We can always count on our first-born to make us proud. Luke’s kindergarten teacher asked for an example of a cylinder. He shouted, “A beer can!” (At least he didn’t say, “Mommy’s pill bottles!”) Our shame subsided when Luke--all in the same day--earned his yellow belt in karate, then (in an unrelated incident) lost his first tooth. In May, Luke & I both had our tonsils out. It seems last year’s behavior “issues” were the result of a nasty case of sleep apnea. (For Luke, that is. I’ve still got issues.) In the Fall, he started first grade & spent his leisure time with Cub Scouts & soccer. He inherited my physical coordination, so we’ll be banking on spelling bee winnings. His voracious reading (albeit admirable) interferes with my poor citizenship. “That says ‘No Parking-Fire Lane.’ Doesn’t that mean you shouldn’t park here?” When he figures out what that blue handicapped symbol means, I’ll really be in trouble. Luke’s imagination is still wonderfully out of control. When his teacher asked him to write about a sad or scary time in his life, he wrote, “My dad almost got killed by dingoes in Australia.” He just turned seven, & I failed to treasure the last few days he allowed me to hug & kiss him in public. Luke’s Quote of the Year (did he steal this from Disney?): “Katy, even though you’re little, in my heart you’re big.”

Commander Katy spent the first half of the year taking ballet against her will. We were thrilled to see that she’d simply been saving up for the recital to steal the show--like a miniature Britney Spears, but with more clothing, more talent, & a lot more class. Now, she’s in gymnastics where she exhibits not only amazing athletic ability, but also a self-confidence that borders on egomania. “I’m an afrobat!” she says. Katy operates at max capacity 24/7 on little or no sleep, with squeals that have been known to violate several local noise ordinances. (Our apologies to the neighbors.) My folks say she’s a carbon copy of me, so I’ve scrapped the plan to clone myself. She’s a whiz at puzzles, a Picasso-esque artist, & on a good day she can count to eleventeen. She’s a cunning manipulator who knows that if her wits fail, she can always rely on her irresistible cuteness. We admire her spunk, & couldn’t discourage it if we wanted to. I wanted her to say “Please,” & asked for the magic word. Her answer: “Agratadabra is a magic word, isn’t it?” Now that she’s four, we hope to see fewer apoplectic tantrums the likes of which we hadn’t seen since The Exorcist. She still enjoys her twice-a-week Mother’s Day Out, but not as much as I do.

Mike spent most of the year either racing his motorcycle or flying his jet. We’ll see if that heads off any midlife crisis. Check out the Fat Old Guy Racing Team website, www.FOGracing.com to see the sheer beauty created by dirt bikes, Whataburger, & aging testosterone. Despite his willingness to volunteer, Mike didn’t get tapped to join the war in Iraq, so he did what he could stateside for Air Force P.R. (His enjoyment of work-related fun was tempered by a constant awareness of the war & by gratitude for his military colleagues who’ve actually had to work - and even die- for a living.) He got rock-star treatment when he flew to Louisville for an airshow at the Kentucky Derby & later to Dover for a NASCAR fly-by. This Summer, Mike & his F-16 hit the front page of the Laredo paper when he made an emergency landing there. And last month, after a short trip to D.C., he did a fly-by at the UT-Texas Tech football game where he was afforded celebrity status & forced to pose for pictures with cheerleaders. During those absences, I freshened up our potpourri, threw away all my expired coupons, & discovered how to make homemade raisins when I cleaned out our fridge. In July, Mike took my Suburban to Mexico for a week with our church youth group on a mission trip (for Christ’s sake!).
Then in August, he went to Hawaii for three harrowing weeks of “training” while I perfected the skill of wielding a plunger while cursing the inventor of the “low-flow” toilet.

After he spent a week in Tucson at a conference, we finally made a trip together to celebrate our 12th anniversary with a kid-free, food- & drink-filled vacation to Rhode Island & Boston. In Rhode Island, a friend shared her shopping motto: “It’s not how much you spend--it’s how much you SAVE.” In Boston, I took advantage of some shopportunities & saved us a ton of money. Earlier this year, at a scrapbooking retreat, I emerged victorious from a crude verbal brawl with a gal who had apparently left her manners at home. There are few things more disturbing (aside from Michael Jackson’s mugshot) than bitter women brandishing decorative cutting tools. In March, I went to Phoenix for a veterans’ law seminar where I put on my lawyer hat & feigned intelligence. I did manage to win another case to keep my office running & get a new computer, too. (When Luke read the computer’s box: “Hey, this says ‘Made in China’ but they sure know how to spell ‘Dell’!”) In April, I turned 37 & immediately lost my metabolism & all elasticity in my facial skin. In retaliation, I lost 15 pounds on the South Beach Diet & learned that fat-free cheese is an oxymoron. I stopped highlighting my hair, only to realize that while my IQ improved somewhat, I was having less fun. This Summer, I took a writing class from one of my favorite essayists & even went to Iowa for another workshop where I was treated like teacher’s pet by an award-winning writer. I basked in the glory of my classmates’ collective envy, then came home to write mostly grocery lists. I also took on a full-time job in sciatic pain management. But I won’t pull a Limbaugh. There’s no way I could fit drug rehab into my schedule. I spend what’s left of my free time with yoga classes, selling household rejects on eBay, cleaning peanut butter out of my cell phone, & deleting urban legends forwarded by otherwise sensible people. Recently, in what I can only assume is part of God’s plan to remind us who’s really in control, my parents both have had some serious health problems. We’re so grateful for all the prayers & concern. They’re doing well now, & should be back to spoiling our kids beyond recognition in the very near future. Try to remember that Every Day Should be a Thanksgiving, except without all the bad carbs.

Mike will turn 40 later this month & I may need to drag him onto the Dr. Phil show to convince him he should be a grown man by now. For next year, he resolves to try to share the kids’ new PlayStation 2 with them & to teach Luke how to be safe on the new dirt bike Santa plans to bring. I resolve never again to waste three hours online looking for time management software. After we devote the better part of 2004 to freeing Christmas toys from their ridiculously elaborate packaging, we look forward to a new year spending more time with family, more effort on friendships, & more money on staying out of debt. We wish you the happiest of holidays & a 2004 full of blessings.
Love & Peace on Earth,

Jill, Mike, Luke & Katy