A Joke and a Smile

He burst onto the planet with a smile tattooed on his baby face like those who sport tattooed eyeliner. Frankly, that happy face was simply his permanent face status.  And today that beaming boy celebrates his 21^st year of life. The doctors gave me an April 1^st due date, but true to his nature, Nick fooled me and came ten days later, a cruel joke to play on a mom still waddling around like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

If there were an award for babies, Nick would have received “Most Cuddly.” He loved being rocked to sleep rather than fall asleep on his own. And, when he moved to a big bed, he would slip out of it sometime during the evening and sleep right by the inside of the door so that I couldn’t open it in the morning. He hated being by himself; he always wanted to be in the middle of the action. And, Nick could eavesdrop on an exchange from two miles away! Seemingly engrossed in homework or a book, he would pipe up from the other room asking for clarification on a conversation that didn’t involve him. That’s my Nosy Nick. Wonder where he inherited that trait?

Not content to play alone, Nick looked forward to little sister, Alix’s arrival, anticipating that immediately upon her return from the hospital, she would somehow mobilize herself into playmate action. Much to his dismay, she lay around, cooing and googling for weeks and months before his dream came true. Even then, as Alix grew older, she would refuse to play with him, and Nick would get angry. Most big brothers can’t ditch their younger siblings quickly enough. Not Nick!

Nick’s love for games and jokes began early, beginning with his surprise late arrival. We’ve endured homemade “knock knock jokes”, library joke books as well as the book presently gracing the bathroom shelf. It never fails that even now, when that young man comes home from college, he comes out of the lavatory with a joke on his lips. Groans and moans ensuing from those dumb jokes don’t stop that kid. As a young teen, Nick antagonized his baby sister Maddie incessantly while proclaiming that he “didn’t do anything.” He’d continue to provoke her by silently invading her space knowing she’d scream and we’d chastise her unaware of his sneakiness.

Nick struggled with being a good sport when playing games. After losing, he would throw board pieces and pout, but he caught on quickly that no one would play with him if he didn’t grasp that universal concept that everyone wins and loses sometimes. That doesn’t mean he isn’t competitive; he just doesn’t stomp his feet and pound his fist anymore! He thrives on activity whether cajoling Maddie to play basketball with him or begging the family to play Electronic Banking Monopoly. One summer, Nick organized a hiking expedition in the woods behind some property we own. We traipsed along trails brushing past tree branches overhanging the path and climbed huge limestone rocks, scraping our knees and arms as we navigated to the top. Hours later, we dragged ourselves home, wounded and tick infested, swearing we’d never listen to Nick’s bright ideas again!

For years, prior to April Fool’s Day, Nick would search for practical jokes to play on us. One year, Nick wrapped saran wrap over the opening of my shampoo and conditioner. Another time, Nick offering to prepare Alix’ breakfast should’ve clued her in that something was amiss; however, with her blond roots, she remained oblivious. When she tasted her cereal, discovering it was mixed with a blend of flour and water, she scrunched her face at Nick, “What is this?!” Yep, it’s best to be on your guard on the 1^st of April when Nick is present.

Nick is all about details. It’s wise not to ask him how he enjoyed a particular movie because he will then describe it play-by-play. Asking him a simple question will lead to recounting additional information and stories he feels are necessary to convey a complete answer. If Alix is “just the facts, ma’am” and Maddie is “embellish and dramatize all the events,” Nick is “clarify and spell out every detail.” Extremely conscientious as a teen, Nick checked in frequently, cataloging specifics, carefully relaying material he felt we should be aware of. As a case in point, one evening after Tony and I had gone to bed, Nick felt it important upon his return from work to knock on our bedroom door to inform us that he had brought home Chick-Fil-A sandwich leftovers. Tony responded, “Gee, thanks Nick for letting us know!” While Nick’s major in the minutiae gives us a good laugh occasionally, I certainly can’t chortle too loudly. For, Nick and I are two peas in a pod in pontificating the particulars as well as prying information. We both desire to be in the know as well as setting the stage for the story that follows. Everyone else is screaming, “Get to the point!”

Responsible firstborn, Nick has always protected and kept an eye on his two sisters. He was the voice for Alix for many years, because she was too shy to speak up. And, with 10 years between he and Maddie, he took care of her like a parent, making sure she didn’t run into the middle of a street and keeping track of her when we were occupied. He assumed the task as naturally as a bee gravitates to honey. And, while he loves to joke and pester, Nick doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Easy going, kind, gentle, dependable…all describe this 6’2” young man. In keeping with what mom says of my younger brother, “He’s such a nice boy!”

And yet, for all these positive traits, Nick definitely knows how to argue a point to the death. Determined to have the last word in a conversation even if it’s muttering something under his breath as he stomps out of the room, Nick loves to be right. Learning that some topics and discussions don’t have to be a hill to die on is an ongoing process for Nick. Still, this stand firm mentality carried him through tough teen years and gave him the ability to make wise choices.

This resolve also caused him to make these declarations, “I will not have a girlfriend until college” and “I will not go to prom in high school.” Wrong on both counts! Nick became friends with a girl who liked hanging out with him. Everyone knew she liked him, but naïve Nick! Part way into their junior year, Nick told me he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend. When he asked her to the prom, Nick had to recant his previous pronouncements. Fast forward four and a half years and Nick is engaged to this same girl, the only woman he’s ever dated. Next year, that joke-telling, jovial, gentle son of mine will join his life to a lovely lady who has made him a better Nick.

He’s a prankster with a huge heart, and at twenty one, still sports a smile as big as the sea!

 

The Blonde With Beauty and Brains

She looked just like an American Indian baby with spiky jet black hair. If I hadn’t just watched her come out of the birth canal, I might have doubted she was mine. Yet, as the years have progressed, 18 of them today to be exact, she has proven to be exactly my child. With inherited “blond” genetics from her mother and a genuine sweetness straight from her great-grandmother, Alexandra Jae’s traits corroborate her membership in this family.

As a baby, Alix oozed perfection. She slept through the night at five weeks, snoozed until mid-morning and hardly ever squalled—probably because she found her thumb when she was weeks old. Alix radiated contentment with each stage of life. Satisfied with crawling and being carried until 15 months old, she wasn’t in a hurry to walk or run anywhere. She’d rather nurse than drink formula from a bottle and transferred straight to a cup when she was a year old.

Despite her angelic infancy, Alix could be as stubborn as a mule. She refused baby food, thumbed her nose at the bottle and rejected walking until she chose to! If she set her mind on something, no amount of persuasion, prodding or poking could get her to budge. When Alix was five, Tony attempted to help her put tights on for church. She collapsed onto the floor, crying, absolutely refusing assistance. She would do it herself! As a toddler and young elementary student, Alix snubbed strangers, relying on her big brother, Nick, to carry the conversation.

Stranger: “Hi, what’s your name?”

Alix sticks her thumb in her mouth and looks up at Nick.

Nick: “Her name is Alix.”

Stranger: “How old are you?”

Alix voraciously sucks, still gazing at Nick.

Nick: “She’s 4.”

Alix warmed up to people like a slow cooker. Nick spoke for her, like Aaron for Moses. Quiet natured, Alix is still challenged to find her voice. She slinks into a room and is content to listen rather than speak. With others around who monopolize the conversation, Alix becomes as invisible as Casper the Ghost. Still, when she opens her mouth, she can be as loud as a magpie. With a voice that can carry across the Atlantic, Alix would get shushed often as a child. Her Uncle Steve used to fondly say, “Indoor blood-curdling scream, Alix”—until his child’s voice proved to carry across two oceans. When Alix’ giggles, the whole world hears. Her belly laugh is an ocean wave catching you by surprise, carrying your body with the force of its power.

More self-disciplined than a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter, Alix learned to read completely on her own. Honestly, I can take no credit. While Nick demanded my attention, Alix settled in her room, reading books to her imaginary classroom. Her goal was to read as fast and furiously as possible—comprehension optional. This is the climate in which she developed her own language, “Alix-ese,” conversation in which she speaks so quickly, no one understands her. When Alix learned to write her letters and numbers, she scripted carefully. Anything not inscribed to her satisfaction was immediately erased and re-written. Completing school projects two or three weeks ahead of time were typical feats for her. She was inwardly motivated to achieve this unless I told her she needed to work on her project. Then, her stubbornness would kick in! Alix executed on her terms.

Blonde in beauty and brains, she occasionally reveals her naivety. Years ago, I was driving a bunch of her friends home from her 10^th birthday party. I was about to miss the turn, quickly slammed on the brakes and swung onto the street. All commented about my swift abilities.

When I said, “Well, I used to be a race car driver,” all of Alix’ friends oohed and ahhed.

Then, Alix asked, “Really? You used to be a race car driver?”

I cracked up, “No, I’m just joking!”

When we were planning for Nick’s graduation party, we mentioned needing to pick up some 6-foot tables from a friend. She responded, “6-foot tables? How will we see over them?!” Alix has given us more opportunities to laugh than the throng of people present for the changing of the guard. Yet, she’s a good sport, and secretly, I believe she enjoys her knack at being “blonde.”

The meaning of Alix’ name, “Helper of Mankind,” is more foretelling than any of us could have realized at birth. For, she is truly a helper in every sense of the word. She exudes an attitude of helpfulness and agreeableness, performing duties without complaint. She loves to listen to friends who are struggling and will only offer advice if they desire it. Not an overly emotional person, Alix sheds tears infrequently—when she’s in trouble or her friends are suffering. Because of her compassion for others, she plans to become a nurse—a true “Helper of Mankind.”

This sweet little girl is all grown up and ready to spread her wings. At eighteen, she exhibits so many qualities I admire: loyalty, perseverance, self-discipline, quiet spirit, contentment and peacefulness. I am so blessed that God chose me to be her mother, and I pray that she experience all the wonderful plans God has for her.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

A Girl With a Voice

Eleven years ago today, baby Madisen burst into the world like a captain commanding attention from his troops. Not content to serenely slip onto God’s green earth in a normal fashion, she sent nurses and doctors scrambling to prepare for an emergency C-section on her behalf. She’s marched to the beat of dramatic flare and adventuresome spirit ever since.

I suppose it’s only fitting that in 2001, her birth year, the name Madisen with its various spellings sat at the top of the charts, right where our own Maddie reigns. Just like Daryl Hannah’s movie name from “Splash” we pulled her name directly off a Bainbridge Island street sign. Her name derives from English origin and means “Son of Matthew” even though she’s the “Daughter of Tony.” We appropriately nickname her “Mad Dog”, “Mad Girl” or just plain “Mad” for the years of fit-throwing in Target, Kroger, friends’ houses, restaurants and church. It’s obvious the pinch of Irish O’Connor blood trickling through her veins overpowers the 1/8 teaspoon of calm, cool English blood.  

With two siblings quite a bit older than she, Maddie matured more quickly in the ways of the world than her friends. In many respects, this maturity paired with her magnetic, outgoing personality serves her well. On the one hand, she speaks before she thinks, forgets to filter her words and tender her tone. Yet, she courageously rescues those being bullied and speaks up on behalf of those too timid to fight for themselves. Maddie pontificates her point of view without fear and will argue a topic to death.

One day at school, Maddie fought with another boy about the Big Bang Theory versus creation. Her voice rose as she related the story to me. “Mom, he kept saying “big bang” to me under his breath over and over again. He made me so mad!”

I assured her that he was achieving his intended effect on her—making her mad. “He’s just trying to get your goat. Ignore him, and he’ll stop.” My advice was like telling a cat to stop chasing mice.

In first grade, Maddie kicked another little boy because he wouldn’t stop following her. Second grade she punched a boy in the face on the bus because he pestered her one too many times. Third grade, when an older girl bullied her on the bus, Maddie be-bopped down the bus steps straight into the principal’s office to report the incident. When I asked her if she was scared, she stated, “No, mom, that girl was crying in Mr. Richardson’s office.”

Maddie is not afraid to voice her opinion yet fearful regarding performances of any kind. A girl who loves to be the center of attention, make people laugh and tell jokes, she loathes being the lone person on stage performing. Piano recitals unnerve her; gymnastics meets make her anxious; singing in front of an audience petrifies her. Maddie desires to control the situation—how, when, where she draws attention. When she’s forced to perform, she doesn’t feel in control.

Still, she is a social butterfly to the nth degree. When school begins each fall, Maddie detoxes for a minimum of three weeks from the summer season of fun, friends and furlough. Forgetting that summer is over, she views school as an extension of her social season—until the teacher clamps down on her chatting. For a girl who epitomizes the word “fun”, school is utter drudgery. For approximately 7 hours, she must listen, learn and lock her lips. Difficult to do for a girl who’s wiggled like a worm since her birth weight, 6 pounds, 13 ounces.  For this reason, recess remains her favorite time of day when she is released from desk and task to fun and freedom.

Expressive, exuberant and energetic characterizes this bundle of joy. Spreading happiness wherever she goes, Maddie gabs with old and young alike. She doesn’t know a stranger, communicating with maturity well beyond most teens. Her greatest struggle, self-control, surfaces often in her daily life—in speech and behavior. Still, she loves God deeply and desperately desires to please Him. I see this love in her journal writing, her questions and conversations.

I pray that she becomes a strong young woman of faith, not ashamed of the gospel, proud of the girl God created her to be—a girl with a loud voice and a principled point of view.