Day 18. Best Party Ever

Yes I am now 5 days behind.   And yes, I am running out days even if I double up. I'll figure it out.  In the mean time here is Jodi's second post this year.  I have mixed feelings about this post because as it turns out Jodi & Tom were not able to make it after all.  Jodi was not very specific in her reasons for the last minute cancellation, but given her glowing review of the party I can only assume her cancellation was for the greater good.  Negotiating peace in the Middle East or perhaps William and Kate needed some discrete marital counseling?  Who can say?  Well Jodi could elaborate, but then she would probably have to kill me.  Not that she would actually kill anyone. She has people for that. Allegedly.

Best Party Ever 2014

You may have heard a rumour that this will be the best KinKade Christmas party since 1992.

It’s true. (Snopes hasn’t picked it up yet, but it’s only a matter of time.)

You see, 1992 was the last time I was able to attend a KinKade Christmas party.

We were all still newlyweds that year. (By “we” I mean the “They’ll Never Make It” Club – Judson & Kathleen, Eric & Stacey and Tom & Jodi. Try to keep up.) We thought we were adults, but we were really still on the cusp. Yes, we were paying bills (most of the time) and drinking wine (a lot of the time), but we also had a certain amount of freedom that resulted in things like the KinKade Christmas Party. It was a given that we would drive from Texas to Oklahoma for the fete and assumed we would make it a yearly trek.

What a difference a year makes! Christmas 1993 and we were at home with a very new baby. There was no way we were going to expose a two-week old to the germ stew of a party. (I’m sure you all practice very good hygiene, no offense intended.) No biggie, we’ll be back next year.

We went up in 1994, but a rapid succession of family tragedies kept us from, well, everything. (Three deaths in two weeks has a way of taking the party right out of people.)  I don’t even remember 1995. Seriously, like I don’t remember anything about that year. By 1996, I was expecting our second child at any time and absolutely was not going to risk having her in Oklahoma. (I did go to DisneyWorld that month. Having my baby in an “It’s a Small World” boat seemed much less repulsive than having her in Oklahoma.) Another couple of years of just “stuff happens” and suddenly we are locked in to spending all of December involved in The Nutcracker. For eternity.

Every year the invitation would arrive and I would open the calendar, full of hope that this would be the year. Every year it took about 10 seconds to realize that unless cloning and /or teleportation were involved we’d never make it.

Each year became a little harder to bear.                                                       

It’s not like I didn’t see my friends. It’s not like we didn’t attend any Christmas parties at all. But no other parties could match the magic of a KinKade party. It wasn’t because they are excellent party planners (they are), but because their party is a product of the heart. There is a not insubstantial amount of time and money involved, but that is brushed aside because the KinKades want to bring a little joy to their friends. That’s the difference between A party and THE party.

Twenty-two years after our last appearance and we are finally making it back. You know to what I am most looking forward? The feeling that they kept the party going all these years just so it would be there when I came back.

Because that is how the KinKades throw a party.

Day 10. Little bit of backstory

I am working on an entry for the 11^th but there is so much back story that it is going to take 2 entries.  So consider this back story and necessary to the advancement of the plot.  So this is COMPLETELY not the Phantom Menace of my blog. 

When I was in college my Mom was very involved with social justice causes in Tucson AZ, and one of the ones close to her heart was the plight of the homeless.  There were so many homeless people living on the streets in Tucson, some sent there from other states by city officials to clean up their cities homeless problems.  My Mom organized the parents of her school to provided food for the Casa Maria, she volunteered some nights when the church provided emergency shelter for the homeless when the temperatures dropped below freezing, and annually she camped out at the capital on Christmas eve as part of a big demonstration to remind those in power that Jesus was homeless himself when he was born.

In addition to these traditional ways of showing support for the homeless community my Mom also participated in a few civil disobedience protests that had to potential to get her arrested.  One year, December 1989, the Homeless Coalition broke into a vacant house that was in the university/downtown area and claimed it as a homeless shelter.  The home was owned by the city, had been vacant for years and had running utilities.  The point of the demonstration was to let the people of Tucson know that the city owned dozens of homes like this that were not being used for anything, so the argument that there was no funding to provide temporary housing for families in crisis, and nowhere to house them was something of a misrepresentation.  Since the protest was over Christmas break I was there with my Mom. 

Mostly the protest consisted of standing around outside in the cold listening to speeches and then later going in the house where it was warm and having a cup of warm apple cider and then going home.  All in all, it was a relatively minor event in my history.

In December 2000 I was back in Tucson with my Mom for a surgery that was supposed to be for an ovarian cyst but turned out to be cancer.  A few days before the surgery we were driving around town and happened to drive past that house where the protest was held.  I said to my Mom “Hey was that…” and before I could even really formulate the rest of the question she said “Yes it was”.  Then she said words that stick with me, even today.  She said “I know, remember that Jud, I know”.

The summer of 2001 when I was in Tucson after she passed away I’d drive by that house and I’d hear her say that “I Know”.  When I miss her and I want to call her and talk to her I hear her say “I Know”.  At Christmas when I sing the wrong Joy to the World like she did, I hear her say “I Know”.  Most of all when I want to show her how amazing my sons are and how proud of them she would be I hear her say “I Know”

Do me a favor? Love your Mama for me.

Day 4. Christmas Letters

I really enjoy getting Christmas letters.  I know it is sort of a dying tradition since it is so easy to stay in touch in the virtual world.  I just have an appreciation for the fact that someone took the time to write out a letter about their year, where they are, what the highlights were and what they are going through.

I doubt that it serves as a better way of keeping in touch than a quick email or facebook post, but I like it nonetheless.  So far this year I have received 2; one from someone I have known since HS and the other from someone I have known since college.  It is a great way to keep in touch.

Kat and I used to send out our own version before we had kids.  One year someone confided that they only ever read the first page of those holiday news letter.  Armed with that information I liked to save up the really juicy stuff for the second page, or at least bury it near the end of the letter as a test to see if anyone was still paying attention. I ran over an elf today on the way home from work.  That way my really dedicated friends were rewarded for their diligence.

I have thought about a news letter for this year, it certainly has been a big year full of big news.  I just haven’t fully committed to doing it yet. I had a heart attack in January.  With all the big news it’s almost impossible to decide where to start. We moved back to Oklahoma.  Not to mention the pressure to be funny and clever and sound positive in the newsletter. The cardiologist asked if Kathleen was my mother.  Plus you have to decide whether to include pictures or not, and then the important question of what size print font do you want?  I will say that the letters I received this year are very optimistic about how good my eyesight is. 

So if you haven’t written a holiday letter to send to me, there is still time!  I look forward to hearing from you!

Lick a stamp for me!

The Mitten - Day One

Happy December 2012! I am back again for another year of Christmas memories and such to share for the next 25 days. We have a bit of a blog redesign this year, I let Matthew help with the color scheme, hope you like it and find it as Christmasy as we do. So without any more prefacey commenty things here we go. . .

How do you decide what your holiday plans are? Do you always do the same things? Do you plan for different activities every year? Do you just wing it? As a parent, does it make it more difficult?

I ask because as a parent it KILLS me christmas since we moved to Denver. What I want, what I believe is the right thing, is that now that we live here in Colorado it is important for us to make friends here, to embrace this as our home and to make our holidays here. I also believe that holding on too tightly to the past and what we left behind in Oklahoma isn’t good for anyone. But when my boys tell me they miss their friends, that they miss their church, and most importantly that they miss their grandparents, it is difficult for me not to make that happen.

Before we became parents Kat and I went and did for the holidays based on external factors. What were Stephanie and Clyde doing? Were Kat’s folks coming to town? What were my Mom and Jenni doing? The one important thing for Kat and me was always that we had our Christmas party the Saturday before Christmas. Then we became parents and other things came in to play. It is challenging to travel with a baby. So staying home became the norm. Once Kat’s parents moved to Oklahoma it became easier to stay home and not travel.

Years ago I read a Dear Abby letter that had a woman complaining that they always traveled when her children were young and as a result never formed any holiday traditions of their own. I don’t even remember Abby’s answer, I know that I thought the woman was a whiny baby and missed the importance of being with her family and I wondered what kind of hag she was that her grown children didn’t want to spend the holidays with her. And now here I am, on the horns of a dilemma. All of my options are good, but what is the best for my boys? What is the best for my family? What makes Kat happiest? Am I the only one that struggles with this?

No matter what I choose someone will be let down. That is difficult for me. You can say there is always next year, but is there really? As I write this I haven’t made a decision yet, but my timeline is counting down, so I have to decide soon. It is something like my own personal version of the lady or the tiger. Which holiday wrapped door do I choose?

***When I wrote this in advance of December 1 I had not made a decision. Since then I have made a decision and even though I can’t satisfy everyone, the smiles on my boys faces when we told them our decision let me know I made the right decision.

Rosemead Christmas

As I am sitting in the Denver Airport waiting to board my flight home to Oklahoma City I am reminded of the very first time I ever flew on a plane when I was in the third grade. We were living in Tucson Arizona with my mom. For Christmas Jenni and I flew to LAX, all by ourselves, to spend Christmas with my Dad, Rebecca and her whole family. I am sure that we must have spent time with the Kinkade family in CA, but I don’t remember that. What I remember, what stands out most about that year, was the Casares Christmas in the house on Guess Street in Rosemead.

I think that may have been one of Grampa Roy’s last Christmases, or maybe everyone always showed up for Christmas? All the cousins were there, Amber, Anna, Diana, little Mike, Laura and even Uncle Rick’s girlfriend (ex-wife?) was there with baby Jeremy. I think Uncle Roy was working for a radio station at that time, because all the kids got ball caps with the radio call sign on them. Rebecca had waited until we were there to do the Christmas shopping for the cousins, (what was she thinking?), so we went with her to the mall. Jenni and I paid careful attention as Dad and Rebecca made their purchases.

As soon as we got back to the Rosemead house the very first thing we did was blurt out what everyone was getting for Christmas. DOH! I can’t imagine that anyone was too pleased. When we opened presents Christmas day I was surprised as everyone else that ‘Santa’ had given what I thought was little Mike’s gift to Diana, Amber’s gift to Anna, Laura’s gift to little Mike, etc. Someone got a set of jacks, and Rebecca and Aunt Nancy showed us kids how it was done. I had never seen adults play jacks before, but they had some serious skills.

After presents there was an amazing Christmas meal. Gramma Lucy had made a ham and all the fixing, plus red chile, rice and beans. A first for me. I’d like to say I loved the red chile, but I did not have the taste for spicy foods as a child that my boys do now. Other things I remember, endless games of tag (man could Diana run FAST), and hide & seek (NOT IN THE HOUSE), and in general the kind of family fun Christmas you would want for a child to experience.

Day Eightteen

In 1999 we traveled for the holidays. Paul was 20 months old and we drove to Missouri for Thanksgiving with my grandparents and Dad and Aunt Joy and Uncle Dale and various cousins. Then for Christmas we traveled to Santa Fe for Christmas Eve, and then Christmas morning we drove to Parker Colorado. That is a LOT of driving for one family, and a lot of car seat time for Paul. Luckily, Paul is a pretty laid back traveler even then.

We got to Santa Fe around 2pm on Christmas Eve. We hung out at my Dad’s house with my brother Ben, (Dad was already in Colorado with his sister Pat and my sister Jenni). That evening Kat, Paul, Ben and I went to Christmas Eve service at First Baptist Church Santa Fe, which had been my church home when I was in HS, and the church Ben grew up in.

The service was nice and very familiar. Paul thought it was a little long, and so at least twice he climbed down from the pew and out into the aisle and ran for the door. Ben was fast on his feet and went after him both times and scooped him up and brought him back and did his best to keep him entertained during the service. When church was over we shook some hands and then we were headed for the door when Earlene Groseclose stopped me at the door and said how sweet to see us again, and what a beautiful family and all those nice things people usually say. Then she said that she really enjoyed seeing Ben run after Paul because it didn’t seem like that long ago that I had been chasing after Ben as he made a break for it. That made me feels good.

Then we went to Pojoaque to Ben’s Mom’s for a traditional New Mexican Christmas Eve dinner of red and green chile enchiladas. I told Rebecca what Earlene had said and that I thought it was sweet. She agreed it was sweet that what was remembered about me and Ben, and what brought those memories rushing back, was basically bad behavior and parents who couldn’t keep their kids sitting still in church.

Don’t judge. Sarcasm and bad behavior in church is just how us Kinkade’s roll.

Day Four

I was talking last night with my niece Elisa who is 18, and I was reminding her that for many many years Kat and I bought her pretty Christmas dresses to wear to our party and other holiday events. She reminded me that I also purchased her shoes too.

I think she was 4 at the time, and Kat and I had already bought her dress and given it to her. The day of the party I had to run to Wal-mart to get ice and a few other things, and trying to entertain the 4 year old I took Elisa with me. When we parked the car I told her we needed three things, and told her what the three things were and asked her to remember them. Then I asked her as we walked in, “what were those three things?”And “How many things?” I was trying to make a game of remembering what we needed and staying on point so we could get out of the store in a timely manner.

Everything was going well until we came upon a large aisle display of Christmas shoes. They had garishly sparkly high heel prostitute looking shoes with holly leaves painted on them, red wizard of oz shoes, and little girls velvet slippers with Christmas wreathes embroidered on the toes. Elisa was fascinated. Trying to stay on point I asked, “How many items do we need?” “Three, plus SHOES” she answered. I reminded her that shoes were not on the list, and she countered with “but I want them to be on the list.”

I tried to tell her no, but she said “please uncle Jedson, please buy me these shoes.” Who can resist that? They were only $10 and they were kinda cute so I said ok. But then we could not find any in her size, in fact the only ones we could find were two sizes too small. Of course, those were the very ones she wanted. I tried to explain to her that they did not fit, and we could not get them. She assured me they did fit, and sat down and put them on to demonstrate. Sure enough she could get them on, and she could get them buckled. I wasn’t convinced thought, and I really did not want her to be wearing shoes that didn’t fit. I told her they would hurt her feet when she wore them, and she offered the ultimate rebuttal “But I am tough like my daddy.”

Now, if you know my brother in law Clyde, you know that is not an argument you can counter. So I bought the shoes.

She did wear them to the party and took them off once they started to hurt, which was fine. Then Christmas eve we went down to Okmulgee and went to church with Stephanie and Elisa. Elisa wanted to wear her Christmas shoes. I noticed as we walked into the church that she was walking very slowly. “Do your feet hurt?” I asked. She adamantly denied that they did. But as the service went on, with the walking to the front for the candles, and then walking to courtyard to make a circle, it was pretty obvious that she was limping. When her 4 year old determination gave out and Elisa started whining that her feet hurt, Stephanie told me, “You did this, you deal with it.” So I picked Elisa up and carried her for the rest of the service. When the service, and the requisite meet and greet after was finally over and we got back to the house and I was helping Elisa get ready for bed I discovered that yes the shoes were too small, but that she had worn them on the wrong feet all night.