We named the dog Indiana...

Internet, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our family.

Meet Indie.*

She is an 11-week-old chocolate lab.  And she is ours.

I never thought I would have a dog with all three of my children living at home.  Remember this?  Having one and then having to give it back three days later was pretty traumatic on all of us.  I had resigned myself to the fact that I would get a dog as soon as McKay was out of the house on his mission.

Lord knows I'll need something to console myself.  I'm a wreck just thinking about him leaving in two short years.

Hannah and I would frequently spend hours looking at what I've dubbed "puppy porn."  Image after image, we would drool over squishy, wrinkled, silky pups -- dreaming of one day having one of our own.  I had made my peace.

Then, a month or so after Christmas, McKay came to me.  He was discouraged and sad and said, "Mom, I would rather be miserable for two years than miss out on this."

My heart broke for him.  Knowing how alienated it would make him feel, how apart from the experience we were all sharing.  But yet how could I bring a dog into the home again?

Josh and I talked about it for days.  McKay has really seemingly grown out of the worst of the allergy.  He has spent the night at friends' homes who have dogs, and come home fine.  He has hung out with friends and their dogs and had no reaction.  But if we did this thing and he reacted, how would we all survive losing another pet?

Knowing that our home here is wood floor throughout the main level, and vowing to keep the carpeted upstairs dog-free, we felt better about it.  Plus, living in a climate that is mild enough to house the dog outside if need be, we decided to take the plunge.

It is simultaneously the most amazing and annoying thing we've ever had in our lives.  She is adorable, crazy, wild, sweet, and hilarious.  Every single one of us is in love.

And the best part?  McKay has done FINE.  If he plays with her and then touches his eyes, he will react and get red.  But if he washes his hands after playing, there is no reaction.  He has done beautifully.  We are so relieved and thrilled.

In spite of her inability to not chew on every surface (including us), she has quickly become an important part of the family.  

We can hardly remember a life without her in it.

*The name was a bit of a compromise.  Let's just say that finding a name that all five of us agreed on was a tear-inducing, unhappy process (mostly for Hannah).  We wanted a name with meaning to our family, but yet one we could all be happy with.  The boys refused anything remotely girly or "food" related (i.e., Coco, Muffin, etc.).  Sadly, almost all Hannah's picks were food related or girly.

The Husband's top pick was Brown Dog.

Which, coincidentally, was my least favorite name in the history of names of all mankind forever and ever.  And ever.  Amen.

We opted (finally!) for Indie, which is short for Indiana Jones.  One of our favorite family activities is to watch a movie together on the weekends.  We all love the Indiana Jones movies, and have quoted the line for years from the third one where Sean Connery, in his best Connery-intonation, says, "We named the dawg Indiana."  

So.  We named the dog Indiana.

And we will never be the same again.

Milestone

Friday night, a major milestone happened in the life of my oldest child.

He attended his first prom.

Which, coincidentally, also happened to be his first date ever.  To say he was nervous would be an accurate truth (though he would definitely never admit that in a court of law.  And would quite possibly deny it to the death).  Hannah and I did our best to educate him on true gentlemanly behavior.  

She has gleaned most of her knowledge from Jane Austen movies.

Mine has come from dating my fair share of NON-gentlemen back in the day.  So between our vastly different world of the ideal perfection and what not to do, he was more than ready.

And probably just a little overwhelmed with information.

His choice of prom date was a friend - a darling girl named Olivia.  And they went in a large, fun group of 18.   

How awesomely amazing do these gorgeous young women look in their dresses?  So beautiful.  So classy.  So modest(!).  I am so impressed.  

(And as the mother of a hot-blooded, normal, teenage boy, I am forever grateful.)

The dapper gents (McKay is the third over from the right):

Through a series of about 900 group texts, the boys decided to reveal their secret identities -- as super heroes will occasionally do for a lady friend.

My boy's secret identity just happens to be Spiderman.

Truly, it was an amazing night.  He had a fabulous time, learned a little bit about gentlemanly behavior, and got to show a girl a good time.  I am so proud of him, and thrilled at the amazing group of friends he has found here in Texas.

{And, yes, I am not dead.  I am going to try with all my might to bring this blog back off of life support.  I do miss writing, sharing, and documenting the extraordinary ordinary life I lead.  Stay tuned.  More to come...)

Sharp Dressed Man

Last week, I took McKay to buy his first suit.

The Husband was out of town, so naturally the man-task fell to me.  Driving over there, laughing and joking with my biggest boy, I felt content.  He picked the music, and even managed to not critique my driving.  He reminded me for the millionth time why I love and adore him so much.

We arrived at Macy's and started flipping through the racks of suits.  I tried to be helpful and point out colors and textures of fabric that looked cool.  He rolled his eyes and laughed at his mama.

Before long, we were saved by a helpful sales clerk.  He took one look at my boy, told us his size without taking a single measurement, and began to pull suits from the racks.

Grateful for the help, I sat with my phone outside of the dressing room and casually perused the Instagram.

When my big boy walked out of the dressing room, I was wholly unprepared for the emotion that would overtake me.  It was like a jolt to my heart.  Seeing him in that suit, his broad shoulders held high, his tall frame tailored and strong – I nearly lost it. 

It was like a vision came to my mind.  A vision, as unexpected as it was unwelcome.  I saw him as the missionary he would be – and in just a few short years.  I saw him, not as my child in holy Nike socks and a dirty t-shirt, but as the man he is becoming.  I saw him all grown up.

And, I won’t lie, I was not at all prepared to face that vision. 

I immediately teared up and felt like I couldn’t breathe.  The air around me was thick and heavy, and I feared the weight of it was going to crush me.  Looking at this man/boy before me – the flesh of my flesh – and knowing that before long he will be out on his own was more than this mama heart could bear.

I felt so small, watching him.  So helpless.  

Right then, ZZ Top’s song, Every Girl’s Crazy About A Sharp-Dressed Man came on overhead.  It was so silly and so appropriate that we both burst out laughing.  It cut through the emotion and brought laughter higher than my tears.  I took a shallow breath.  Then another one.  I smiled at him.  The heaviness passed, but left in its wake a weight on my heart.  One that I know will probably hang there forever, getting heavier with each passing year.

Tender mercies come in all forms.  Mine came in a song, played ever so timely, as I watched my child casually slipping through my fingers.  In a dressing room at Macy's.

Forty: My new favorite

When I last left you, on November 8th, I had gone to lunch and a movie with some new friends here in Texas.

What I did not know was that hours later, I would be in for the surprise of my life.

As I drove home from the movie, I thought about all the movies and lunches I used to have back in the Lou.  I felt the all-too familiar melancholy ache for my St. Louis girls.  So I picked up the phone and tried calling them.  I got voicemail each and every time, which was a bit unusual.  But I thought nothing of it and went home.

I wrote the blog post and looked forward to a night out with the Husband.

A few hours later, the kids started trickling in from school.

As is my usual routine, I started gently nudging Chase out the door to go on his run.   Dude likes to procrastinate, so it's always a lengthy process to get him out there.

In the meantime, the Husband came home and we started chatting.  Banter, happy talk, and excitement over the upcoming weekend.  

I heard a noise behind me, and figured it was that tall boy of mine who STILL had not left on his run yet.  Turning to tell him to GET HIS BUTT OUT THE DOOR, I saw my four best girls.

STANDING. IN. MY. HOUSE.

For a half a second, I wondered what was wrong.  Why were they here?  What had happened?  HOW?

Then I immediately burst into tears and ran screaming into their arms.  It was caught on video, but I assure you, no one wants to see that hysterical chubby mess.

My dear, darling Husband had got them all here to help me turn 40 in style.

It was no small feat.  As per his usual life, there were missed flights, late meetings, and scrambled travel plans.  But he got them all here and made sure HE was home to see the look on my face.

The next best part of the surprise?  He and the boys were leaving to fly to the BYU game in Wisconsin.  We would have the entire house to ourselves for an entire weekend.

As we walked out to the car to grab the luggage, there was yet ONE more surprise.

Maren had brought her daughter, Jilian, to hang with Hannah.

Seriously.  So many surprises, I would have not been shocked to see Hugh Jackman walk in the door next.  It was absolute happiness all around.

First order of business was grabbing some Mexican food at Chuy's.  Because one should never leave Texas without some of their divine creamy jalepeno dip.

The weekend was absolutely perfect (even without Hugh Jackman coming).  The Husband sent gorgeous flowers that arrived Saturday morning - enough for every room in the house.  

We laughed, we ate, we shopped, we stayed up late.  I could not have imaged a better way to celebrate my big birthday.

These women have been a part of my life for the past six years, and I was beyond thrilled and touched to have them here.  The Husband knocked it out of the park on this one and I can never tell him just how much it meant.  I love these girls like sisters.

It was JUST what I needed, right when I needed it most.

I'd say that 40 is feeling pretty darn good.

To serve and protect

Today, I went to the mall with a couple friends. 

I know!  I have friends!  Hooray!

I'm actually feeling quite thrilled about that fact.  I dragged two of them with me to see a movie (side note:  If you have not seen this movie yet, get yourself to a theater STAT.  The BEST movie I have seen in ages.  Thank you Annie, my long-time BFF and movie-buddy for the recommendation.  Sobbed my way through it.  So phenomenal). 

ANYway, I dragged these new friends of mine to see a movie and have some lunch. 

When I got out to my car, there was a note on my windshield from our local police.  It looked like this:  

Apparently, I had failed a spontaneous inspection of my vehicle.  The reason for the failure was that my Property was in Plain View (and so important they felt the need to capitalize the aforementioned Property in Plain View). 

I looked around the car and wondered what Property was in Plain View. 

Internet, I give you my very valuable, very-worth stealing, lucky-I-still-have-it Property. 

(Try not to rush here all at once to break into my home and steal it.) 

First up is the bottle I fill with pool water once a month and drive to the pool store for water testing.  While this item is extremely valuable in ascertaining the correct acidity of our pool, I doubt anyone would want it badly enough to steal. 

But I could be wrong.   It definitely takes all kinds to make the world go 'round. 

Next up is this ratty, fraying, mate-less glove.  Worn by me two nights ago at the football game where it was FREEZING cold.  We lost, in case you wondered.  Which made it all the more worthwhile to sit in the stands and freeze my ever-expanding arse off.

While a matched set of a ratty, fraying glove might be worth something at auction, I doubt thieves would risk incarceration for a single. 

Also of little worth is this pile of old receipts, one of which was the dry cleaning receipt I had my daughter dig through the trash to find.

But then forgot to use at the dry cleaners when I picked up the clothes.   Oops.

[Has anyone seen my Mother-of-the-Year-Award?  I've been watching the mail and it hasn't come yet.  Hmmm.... odd.] 

Lastly, and probably the most valuable item I own, is this antique treasure.  It has been in our family for generations and is an heirloom that I hope to pass onto my own children someday.  I have often wanted to take it to the folks at the Antiques Roadshow and get an appraisal, but I've honestly worried about damaging it in the process. 

Internet, meet my most valued possession. 

It really isn't a surprise that I failed the inspection.  Any one of these items are worth the risk of staph that you'd likely get by smashing the window in to steal them. 

Thank you, ever-diligent police, for keeping me on my toes. 

Also?  I'm pretty sure we live in a great area if this is the way our officers' time is spent.  For that, I am legitimately thankful. 

Dear Chase,

Exactly 45 days ago, you turned 14. 

Aaannndd exactly 45 days ago, I was wallowing in a pity party for one, feeling wounded, and alone, and did not get a chance to write you this letter. 

It was pathetic and I am so sorry. 

Fortunately for me, you are so kind-hearted and easy going that I know I'll be forgiven before I even ask. 

Chase, I think of all of us, this move has suited you most of all.   

You have slipped into a new skin here in Texas as smoothly as putting on a warm jacket.  You immediately decided you wanted to play football - a concern for me at first - seeing as how you had no idea how the game was played and had never done it in your life.

You know.  A small hiccup in an otherwise grand plan. 

I worried about it, I'm not going to lie.  Knowing how the Football is king here in Texas (and deserving of the capitals), I worried it would be ultra competitive, and that your inexperience might hurt you or prove damaging to your confidence.  Raising your sports-driven brother has shown me what the world of athletics can be like, and I was terrified of negative consequences for you. 

Oh, silly me.  When will I learn that you know your own heart best of all? 

You have dived in with your natural enthusiasm.  You boldly explained to your coaches that you had NO clue what you were doing, and studied the playbook hard when they offered it.  You researched YouTube videos and asked help from your brother.  You took your inexperience and turned it into a prowess on the field that is so fun to see.  I love watching you play.

Football has been the BEST thing for you. 

Case in point:  We were at one of your very first football games.  Your team had finished playing and you and I were walking together through the stands.  No less than a dozen times were there cheers and congratulations from your classmates as they shouted your name and praised your efforts on the field.   They shouted your name!  That means they knew it!  All these people already knew who you were and liked you!

I looked back at you, my mouth agape, and asked you why you didn't tell me you had all these friends. 

In the classic Chase way, you grinned and shrugged your lanky shoulders.  As if it was no big deal.  Tears filled my eyes and love filled my heart because in that moment I knew:  You were going to be all right here. 

And you've been more than all right:  You've thrived.   You've grown.  You've broadened your circle and found strength in new ways.

Chase, I am infinitely proud of you.  You have a heart that is ten times your size.  And, believe me, your size is considerable.  Just a few months ago, you officially became the tallest Halverson - surpassing your father and (long ago) your older brother.  You were pretty proud of yourself, but yet made sure that your brother didn't feel slighted.  You reminded him of how tall he was, and that he might pass you up one day.  

Kid, you are always thinking of others. 

And it's one of my favorite things about you. 

Chase, I love your creativity, your enthusiasm for life, and your pursuit of your passions.  You inspire me to dream big.  You never take yourself too seriously and are more than happy to let others have the spotlight.  You work hard and have more discipline than anyone I know. 

Except when it comes to the treats.  You have a sweeter tooth than anyone in our family and I swear you must have a hollow leg.  Because I don't know where else all that food goes that you eat.   Seriously.  

I love you more than this feeble letter can ever say.  Thank you for making our life so stinkin' interesting.  Thank you for always being so easy-going, for your big plans, and the happiness you bring us by being close to you.  Your joy is infectious.  Your big grin, flanked by that one, lone dimple that I love, is one of the best parts about my day. 

And, please, could you promise to stop growing and stay this way, just for a few more years?  Because this phase of life is the funnest one yet.  I just can't get enough of it.

I love you, Chazini. 

Love, 

Mami