Every 100 Years a Post

When the babes were tiny, I had a life that accommodated my ability to create limitless prose about the awesomeness (and sometimes not-so-awesomeness) of parenting. Within the pages of this blog I got to wax poetic about the crazy, the fun, the angry, the harrowing, the adorable, the hilarious. In looking for an old photo recently, I found myself falling down the rabbit hole of reading old posts that in some cases had me literally, laughing out loud, then almost crying. Picture Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation sitting in his attic watching 8mms – and yes I was wearing a turban.

I think the thing that hit me like a ton of bricks is how much time has slipped past since the kids were born. This year Stelly turned 10. P is almost 8. As I sit here writing, Stella is in the kitchen helping plan dinner and unloading the dishwasher. Porter is at a friend’s house for a sleepover. They are big kids now. Thoughtful, mature, fun, silly big kids. It makes me realize that time has disappeared in a blink. Take this post for example: Quality Family Time. Be sure to look at the photo set – it is the true heart of the story.

It makes me incredibly mournful to accept that my writing has been buttoned up for a period. I know it is not the end, but it is halted for this period of my life where parenting, and retailing and wife-ing and participating have become the larger priority. And I can dig that. I love to write. I love that I have written, and I know I will find my way back to it at some point.

But. I have done my best to evolve my documentarianism. Even though I can’t write every day, I have done my best to post as close to every day as I can manage. Anything. Something. So a picture makes its way along. Or even just a 140-ish character sentiment.

Last year became the evolution to a photo-a-day. I would give myself a C+ in my overall job in this task. But it’s a starting point.

And so, Happy New Year to all of you. I am so ridiculously lucky to have my endlessly supportive family and my loyal, fun, zany, smart, silly, witty, scandalous, friends who make me smile, and make me feel whole, real, grounded and loved. I hope with all my being that my children get to experience such greatness in their lives.

May 2014 be the beginning – or continuation – of the next something great for all of you.

Here’s the wrap-up for holiday season 2013. (And for those of you wondering, yes that is a Millenium Falcon birthday cake.)

Enjoy!

Holiday 2013 from natalie on Vimeo.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I’m not gonna lie. This Christmas was action-packed. Retail during the holidays is relentless, and when you throw in our usual Thanksgiving-Birthday-Dance-Recital-Birthday-Christmas-New-Year’s routine, it pretty much makes it certain that life becomes one giant hamster wheel ‘o fun.

Everyone was pretty civilized about how my recent job transition completely upturned our family’s nicely calibrated alternating holiday travel schedule. Yes, it was our year to go to the valley. No, we did not go. Yes, everyone had to drag themselves back up here. Again. But if these last years have taught us anything, it is that no matter our well-laid (lain? layed? layered?) plans, life always intervenes. And as such, we are learining to roll with it.

Stella danced her role as Latin Christmas Ornament with great beauty. Her birthday was a pre-tweener extravaganza with giggles and loud top-40 music and goofiness. Steve’s birthday was a great success of homebrew, ribs, friends and family. We all soldiered through the fact that crab season didn’t open in time for Christmas this year and we had to suffer (not really) through the Mexican feast of tamales and homemade chile verde. The kids got desks and books and toys and fun things, and yet chose to spend the better part of the day playing with a giant cardboard box. And because we are the type that never quits while we are ahead, we brought in the New Year right proper with more dancing and merriment. Boo to the yah.

Once again, I took full advantage of the fact that my mother has immersed herself in her passion for picture taking, and let her take on the lion’s share of picture taking. Hey, it takes a village, people!

I did do the work to gather all the pictures up, crop, correct and upload. I even went the extra mile and videoed that bad-boy. You’re welcome.

And Happy New Year.

Christmas 2012 Slideshow from natalie on Vimeo.

Bouncing Into 2012

In the great cycle of holiday rotation it was our turn to host Christmas, which was good considering the fact that this year the whole extended family went in together to purchase the kids a trampoline. Now, we have hauled an amazing amount of things back and forth across this great state, but I think strapping a 14-foot trampoline atop the vehicle would have put us in an entirely new category of questionable decision-making. Alas, it was a huge hit and continues to be the place the kids run to directly after school. On a related note, every muscle in my body has filed official complaint with the trampoline company.

Steve’s birthday was a great success and his new race-car grill (also a gift from the entire family) was used in the making of this year’s birthday dinner selection of wings and burgers. The Haws and Bakers joined us, the kids ran amok, and once everyone said their good-byes and went home to tend to their own Christmas Eve preparations, the men at 111 set about assembling the trampoline. Wagers were being placed on how long it would take and how many injuries would ensue, however Steve was bouncing on it within an hour and a half. They were justifiably smug about their accomplishment.

I was beyond bad at taking photos this year, but thankfully my parents decided to purchase themselves a new digital SLR as an early Christmas present, and my mom did an excellent job of taking up the slack. I put together a very quick slideshow (my criteria was to constrain the selections to what could fit within one song). If you are interested in all of the gory details, you can find complete sets over on Flickr.

May this be the last Christmas song you have to hear for the next 11 months….

And then there was snow

This was the year. The year we would get Stella on the chair lift and the year we would get Porter on skis. And what do you know, but we did it! Or, they did it. Er, um, we facilitated it? Whatever. Stella slayed the chair-lift (with the one minor hiccup of nearly taking out my mom’s knee on one of her earlier dismounts), and Porter skied. Let me say that again: Porter. Skied. Okay, to be totally honest, he spent about 10 minutes in his lesson until he grew too impatient to wait, and instead made Steve haul him to the top of the bunny hill. Steve, who was not wearing skis. You see, Porter had no interest in the banal details of safety and recovery – he just wanted to ski, Ski, SKI!!! And so up he went, armed with a lot of enthusiasm and little else. He made it up and down the hill a couple of times – only dragging Steve over once. And at the end of it all he called it a success, and so therefore WE called it a success. Done annnnd done!

The rest was all just gravy…

What Could Have Been

Two weeks ago yesterday, I received a phone call that changed our lives forever. Standing in the middle of campus on my cell phone, I listened as Steve blurted out the crackly details: Fell. Shop. Scott. Forehead. Coma. Air-lifted. These words came at me in rapid fire succession. My only response was to shout back clarification:

“Are you talking about Scott?”
“Yes.”
“Is he okay?”
“No.”

I sprinted across campus to my office, blurted out a tearful explanation to my coworkers, packed up and headed home. From there, we gathered a couple changes of clothes, grabbed the kids and headed straight for the hospital, 9 long hours away.

As it turned out, Scott was far from okay. He had suffered what we would come to find out was a devastating brain injury, and we would spend the rest of the week realizing the true extent of what that term – devastating – meant: On Sunday, shortly after 10:15am, Scott passed away.

Throughout the course of those 5 long days, and into the week that followed, we were given a glimpse into Scott’s life that will forever bring us peace and comfort. Far from the oft-painted portrait of a work-focused loner, we stood witness to the countless stories of a guy who was a friend, a mentor, a confidant – someone who consistently managed to help people laugh, learn and grow. I will never in my lifetime forget watching his crew come into the hospital that last Friday night to say their good-bye, hearing their stories as they sat, swollen-eyed and stunned telling tales of how this perfectionist of a boss left such a deep imprint on who they were and who they had become as men. It was truly heartbreaking.

Within all the grief and confusion and unanswered questions, one of the aspects of Scott’s death in which I find the most sadness is the seemingly vast loss of potential. The loss of opportunity for our kids to get to build that relationship with him – to grow up in the shadow of all those great qualities. The loss of chances for him to have finally found that balance he needed between work, and friends, and family. The loss of all that could have been.

We will miss you so much, Scott. But you’ll be in our hearts forever.

Scott Walston William Scott Walston, age 44, passed away in Fresno, California, on August 22, 2010 due to an industrial accident. Scott was born April 22, 1966 in Fresno to Bill and Judy Walston. He was raised in the Ivanhoe-Visalia area, was a 1984 graduate of Golden West High School and earned a Bachelor’s degree from Whittier College in 1988. Over the years Scott worked in food production plants, such as Eagle Snacks, Stella Cheese, and Haagen-Dazs. Since 2007, he has been owner of Scott Walston Construction. In addition, he enjoyed reading, gardening, cooking, skiing, telling stories and spending time with his niece and nephew. In addition to his parents, Scott is lovingly survived by his brother, Stephen Walston, sister-in-law, Natalie, niece, Stella, and nephew, Porter, all of Eureka, California. He is also survived by his aunts and uncles, Wanda Ginner of Portola Valley, Ginny Massey of Tulelake, Stephen and Janet Bly of Winchester, Idaho, plus numerous cousins. An open Memorial Service will be Friday, August 27, 2010, at 3:00 p.m., at the Woodlake Presbyterian Church. For those who desire, the family suggests donations be made in his memory to your favorite charity or to the American Cancer Society . Graveside services will be private with interment at the Woodlake Cemetery. Arrangements by Miller Memorial Chapel, Visalia, CA.