This past weekend I had the pleasure of spending time with good friends and family. I always enjoy doing that. This time it was to celebrate my being yet another year older. Aren’t birthdays just an excuse to get together and have a party? I think so.
Amidst the invitees for this particular party I included one of my Uncles on my Dad’s side. My Dad comes from a family of 7 with Dad being the oldest and this particular Uncle being the youngest (being 16 years younger than my father). My uncle Shawn is more like a big brother to me. He is only 7 years older and treated me more like a sister than an niece. We were lucky enough to be invited to his son’s high school graduation a few weeks ago and I invited him to watch the boy play hockey and come over for the party. To be honest, I didn’t think he would make it. My aunts and uncles rarely come to anything I invite them to. Lo and behold he walked into the hockey rink Saturday morning.
It meant so much to me for him to be there. As you may recall my family is a bit on the different side. You see, since the writing of this post I have not seen nor really talked to my father. I talked to him the day before his birthday last year and then again on Thursday. For the past year I have been very upset with my dad. There are many reasons for that and the last one being that he just let my aunt slide at my uncle’s wedding when she was saying horrible things about me. In years past my dad would have been my greatest defender. In this case he said nothing. Could have something to do with the fact that he was well on his way to being three sheets to the wind.
I know that in this case I should be the bigger person, but frankly I’m tired of being the parent in the relationship. I can’t do it anymore. That really hit home with the news of my brother’s latest escapades and everyone telling me that I’m not the parent and that it’s not my fault.
So my dad actually called on Thursday to say that he would make it to my birthday party (Lil’ Bro was also supposed to be coming). I had words with my dad and brother. I tried to find out what happened with Lil’ Bro and neither of them wanted to talk about it. The conversation ended as such:
Me: Dad, I want to know what is going on
Dad: See you Saturday baby!
Me: Whatever dad.
I didn’t believe that he would actually show up, but secretly hoped he would. As we were walking out of the hockey rink I said something to Shawn about dad coming, and his words were, “I hate to tell you this, but don’t get your hopes up.” I didn’t. I knew he wouldn’t come. I was right. My own dad.
Hoping that my dad will man up and be my dad is like being a little kid holding onto a balloon string. You hold on so tight, but you know that at some point it is going to slip out of your grip. As you watch it float away you jump higher and higher trying to catch it, but it just keeps floating away. No matter how hard you try. I think my dad has gotten to the point that I really can’t reach the string anymore. I just have to sit and wait for the balloon to pop.
In the mean time, I have this one uncle. One uncle that cares about his family. One that is willing to let me know that I’m still a Kinney and that’s it’s ok to be the” black (or really white) sheep” of the family. Even if being the black sheep means it’s the one with her shit together.
So here is another out-of-the-box You Capture for you. Beth came up with emotion. I’m not the best at taking people pictures so I thought I would improvise. I know, I should use this opportunity to practice my people picture skills, but the best opportunity for emotion I had was me crying myself to sleep Sunday night at the thought of my little brother becoming a pot head. I’m taking it very personally.
Yesterday my mom invited me over to “help” her with a little project. She inherited my Great-Grandfather’s rocking chair. Only trouble is the seat of it had been worn from years of my Tiny Papa sitting in it and rocking away. We aren’t sure how old the chair is, but we are guessing at least turn of the century. My Great-Grandparents never purchased anything new so we have no clue to its origins. All we know is that Tiny Papa loved this chair.
When we returned to my mom’s house with the new fabric in hand I set to work recovering the worn old cushion. This wasn’t an easy project. I started to peel away the trim and fabric and discovered another layer of fabric underneath. Out of curiosity I pulled back that layer too. Under that is what we believe is the original fabric. A light blue satin brocade. It was remarkably intact, but stained from years of use. I only wish I knew the history of the chair. Did my Great-Grandmother start with the robin’s egg blue? Did she recover the chair twice? I know she did the final velour layer of fabric. It had her hand all over it. The fabric was patched, a variety of nails and trim were used to attach it. It was as eclectic as she was. As I unearthed the layers of history I thought about my Great-Grandparents. They died when I was 19 (I think) and 30. Neither lived long enough to meet their Great-Great-Grandson. I had the fortune of getting to know them just a little bit and their presence in my life made a huge impact.
Hockey, family, hockey, family. That was our weekend.
This weekend we celebrated the graduations of two of my cousins. There was some kind of baby boom around the 1991-92 mark in my family. This year we had 3 (of the ungodly number of grandchildren) in the age range of graduation.
1 was from my mom’s side. Saturday we honored Zach for graduating from Tumwater High and tomorrow he starts his life on a career track to become a fire fighter. I never thought I’d see the day when this would happen. Zach had some complications when he was born and the first few days of his life were nerve wracking. Since then he has gone on to amaze every person he’s ever met. I’m incredibly proud of him.
Another graduate was from my dad’s side of the family. My cousin Dylan graduated from Shelton High and will start schooling in turf grass and golf course management in the fall. This is right up Dylan’s alley. He’s an amazing athlete, won all kinds of awards from school and is an all around awesome kid.
The last in the line of graduates is my little brother. Lil Bro, I learned, is not graduating. This doesn’t come as a shock to me. Last summer Lil Bro was caught on school grounds with pot. He swore up and down that it was his buddy’s and not his. He had to go to court, and basically was invited not to return to his high school. He started the year at the extension school, but I’m unsure if he ever ended the year or simply went the way of many of my family members and dropped out. Neither he or my dad showed at today’s party for Dylan. Probably because they knew if they showed up I might just punch Lil Bro in the face. He deserves it.
I can’t tell you how angry I am at my brother and my dad. Lil Bro is a good kid. Or at least he was. My dad has taken this liaise faire attitude with him that is causing all kinds of problems. I know I’m not the parent, but the least my father could do is to kick some sense into my brother so he wouldn’t turn into a damn pot head. Which is what has happened.
Now we get to chalk another one up in the line of Kinney high school drop-outs. Quality.
When I saw this challenge come up I thought I was actually going to stick to the theme. I had planned to do a little family self portrait this weekend. I had a plan. Then I remembered that we were having a barbecue and that my sister and nephew were coming. Even better. I would get the trusty husband to take a photo of Little and I. He then mentioned it would be his capture if I did that. True. Then I got busy, people started showing up and the photo of Little and I never happened. I did get quite a few photos of my pre-shus nephew, Leo. He’s family.
Earlier this week an opportunity presented itself to take an out-of-the-box family photo for this week’s challenge. As I was getting ready for our party Sunday morning I did some rearranging of things in a little 1/4 circle flower bed by our front walk. I put the boy’s bench and a little “patio” in it and dubbed it the boy’s garden. All it needed was a few flowers. While we were at the vegetable store picking up stuff for the barbecue I told the boy he could pick out some flowers for his garden. We let him buy 10 little packs of bedding plants (he picked 10 different varieties of course). We planted the flowers Tuesday afternoon. The boy planted some of them, but it was mostly him picking the flower and telling me where to dig the hole. He placed every single plant in his little garden. He had planted one yellow Marigold on the corner and then a few other flowers in other places. He picked another yellow Marigold and I asked where he wanted it to go. He said, “right here next to this yellow flower. It needs a sister.” There are now two little yellow Marigolds side by side. A brother and a sister.
I smiled at this little exchange, but it broke my heart just a little bit. The boy would really like a sibling (brother or a sister) and that is just something we can’t make happen for him. It isn’t that we don’t want more children. It is quite the opposite really. We just cannot afford the cost of another adoption and our attempts to get pregnant end in colossal failure.
What did you capture?
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yes, I photoshop nearly all of my images. Here are the originals.
Once again, Merry Christmas from the house of Elle. We hope this finds you in good health or at least with few medical bills to pay. Lord knows this economy isn’t doing us any favors.
It has been a mostly uneventful year in our home. We once again staved off arrest by only participating in minor and unremarkable crimes like shoplifting at the dollar store.
The early part of the year was spent surviving our 3.0 toddler model. We were hoping for the upgrade that would fix all of the bugs, but it was on back order and then got lost by UPS. It never arrived and the genius bar claimed they couldn’t help us. Basically, Todd the zit-faced toddler fixing monkey hung us out to dry.
In February Elle was once again struck with the plague. Only this time it ended up with her in the hospital. She nearly punched out a hospital nurse when she said, “you look like you feel great.” This, after Elle had been puking her guts out for 7 hours straight. We thank Neal for his generosity in coming to watch the boy in the middle of the night. It was that or take the child to the hospital and have him explain to the doctors and nurses how they could be more efficient. And when they didn’t listen he would have a screaming fit and throw pudding at them.
By March we had taken out stock in an earplug company and a local vineyard. It was at this time that Elle went rogue in the local Trader Joes. She went in to purchase additional corned beef and ended up getting tossed on her ass. The law suit is still pending for “alleged” assault on a sample counter employee.
In June we checked Elle into an anger management program and her acupuncturist upped the needles and tea.
Mid June started the summer off right. We were able to meet long time online friend Tricia and her lovely family. They vacationed in Seattle and we had the opportunity to show them around. Elle and the boy took them up to Mt. Rainier to enjoy the vistas and do some hiking. Unfortunately, this is Washington and there was still snow in the hiking areas. Tricia’s daughter was a little pissed about that and tried to pitch the boy over the side of the mountain. We explained that Ebay wouldn’t appreciate the loss of repeat business and then we bought them ice cream.
In July Elle and the Trusty Husband dropped the boy off for what would be a fun filled week of Grammy & Papa adventure. The grandparents felt they needed reinforcements so both the trusty sister-in-laws and the trusty brother-in-law came to help out. They spent the time teaching the boy inappropriate phrases such as, “man, that’s whack,” and “babe, bring me a beer.” In the mean time we escorted 7 teenagers to a youth conference in California. We only misplaced 2 and a third may or may not have been sucked in by a rip tide in the Pacific Ocean. We found suitable replacements and as far as we know the parents haven’t noticed.
After our remaining brain cells had been abused we met the trusty family at Disneyland for the ultimate Lampoon’s vacation. Unlike Wally World, Disneyland was open and as always was the happiest fricken place on earth.
This fall we sent the boy off for hockey lessons. After much protest he finally succumbed to his mother’s persuasions and is begrudgingly participating. We now own stock in Cold Stone and have amassed a small collection of Chuck E. Cheese toys in bribes for ice time. We figure the future NHL salaries will more than compensate us our current grief… that is if they allow crying in hockey.
Per usual we spent the first two weeks of December engulfed in chocolate. We had just lost the 300 pounds from last year’s chocolate extravaganza only to put it on 2 fold this year. Weight Watchers is chomping at the bit to have us back, but we might have to resort to something a little more extensive. Gastric by-pass anyone??
We do have to give a quick congrats to our dear friend Lena who is expecting baby #3 in June. After the Trusty Husband talked Elle off the edge of the Narrows Bridge he mentioned that at least she could drink. Lena then dubbed Elle her designated drinker for the next 6 months. Elle immediately went out and signed up for stomach pump of the month club at the local hospital.
We will spend this holiday season with family. Grandpa’s rehab has been going well and his social worker says he should be able to rejoin society by the New Year. Mom was just released from the mental institution and as long as she stays on her meds we should be able to have ham for dinner without any swine related flashbacks.
We wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New year. May you find fewer hairs in your food than last year and may none of them be from Uncle Joe’s nose.
Elle, the Trusty Husband and the boy
