Christmas Letter 2023

 

December 1, 2023

 

To those who like Neil Diamond and those who don’t (but really, what is wrong with you?!),

 

I am writing this year’s newsletter from my sick bed, recovering from a minor oral surgery because I’ve always been mature for my age and my 39-year old body decided to jump on the your-body-starts-falling-apart-at-40 train a year early. There are two kids near me, each practicing a different musical instrument At. The. Same. Time. (#selfcare). And while I love “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” on the piano alongside one of Bach’s minuets on the violin as much as the next middle-aged, minivan-driving mom, I was also hoping that this letter wouldn’t fully reflect the totally chaotic (but often very fun) household we’ve somehow created.  I just wanted to pretend for all of you beautiful people. But alas, here we go.

June turned 11 this year and is still obsessed with animals and books. She is thoughtful and kind and loves to make presents for people. She also definitely does her own thing at all times, as could be evidenced a couple of weeks ago when we thought she was reading a book in her room (usually a correct assumption) but really she was outside in a rainstorm cutting down our bushes because “they didn’t look right”. She keeps life exciting.

I ask Gwen (9) to help too much. I know it, and she knows it. I should get $20 cash back from every store purchase I make and put it into Gwen's future therapy fund. One day, feeling especially unable to keep up with the tasks at hand, I looked over at Gwen who was at the table eating a snack. "Mom," she said, and held up her hand and started to sign some letters to me in ASL. The first letter--I--was followed by L, O, V, and then E. I knew where this was going, and I was here for it. This mom could use some affirmations. My heart swelled and I thought, "Thank you, Gwen, for loving me despite my shortcomings." She continued to sign each letter to me "C-A-R-R-O-T-S." I Love Carrots. She pointed to her snack plate, where the pile of carrots she was consuming was dwindling. Sigh. Can I blame her? Carrots are consistent, way more dependable than her mom. But I suspect that she loves me too.

Six-year-old Harris is our resident engineer. He loves changing lightbulbs, repairing things, and charging all electronics in need. Like me, he has a guilty conscience and is always asking me which words we are and aren’t allowed to say. Today’s word was “pelvis”. He is reading, mathing, pianoing, wrestling, and biking but only when he is specifically not asked to do any of those things. Why are all my kids so stubborn? It must come from Dan’s side. I am so chill and hardly have an opinion on anything. One thing Harris is definitely not doing is cleaning--which he abhors--but he is always up for cooking, which I’ll take.

Beck, as our resident youngest child, never had the opportunity to go through the jealous-of-the-new-baby phase. But he has been able to go through the jealous-of-the-new-dog phase. He dropped our new dog down 2 flights of stairs “to see what would happen”.  A budding scientist, you might say. He is affectionately known as “Cheeks” at our homeschool co-op because his little hips can’t hold any size of pants up. He also wants to know all the words we don’t say, but he wants to YELL them in public. He is active all the time, and when asked to write his own part for the children’s program at church, he ended the prompt “I show my parents love” with “by going to bed.” True words.

So yes, we finally gave in/caved/surrendered to the kids and bought a dog. Gilbert Blythe Jolley is a sweet and tiny terrier mix who I was dead set against from the very beginning, but now I love. Mostly because I’m his favorite, so I recognize that he must be a genius. I also relate to his inability to completely empty his bladder. We are currently healing together, me from a gum graft and him from being neutered (He thinks he’s a regular Don Juan with the neighborhood lady dogs.) We are misunderstood, Gil and I, but we are misunderstood together.

Dan finally achieved his lifelong ambition of (being married to me? Fatherhood? A 30-year mortgage? Nope!) boat ownership, and he is thrilled. We named her The Jolley Roger, and she fits right into our small group of possessions because she is super old and always has a broken part. She is “the minivan of the seas” among lots of edgy and cool jet skiers, whom I have hollered at more than once to slow the heck down. Our marriage has been tested at the boat launch many times, but now I know my place. Second place, behind TJR. I’m pretty sure if we had a house fire, the first thing Dan would do is drive 45 minutes to our boat to make sure she was okay.

And then there’s me. It was poolside with girlfriends this summer that I discovered that I am old. These girlfriends are a decade younger than I, and I couldn’t follow the conversation to save my life. I’m not cool or hip, except if “broken hip” counts. But I love my life. We are grateful for you, our wonderful friends. Above all, this Christmas season we are so grateful for our Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave His life for us. May your season be filled with family, friends, and Him.

 

                                                          Love,

 

The Jolleys

I Wish Summer Would Never End.

I know everyone at this time of year is so excited for fall. Not me. Fall is fine, fall is fun, but summer forever. Especially when you live somewhere where summer seems rather short.

We have swum (isn't any occasion to use "swum" the best?) and boated and partied all summer long. We have eaten more watermelon and corn on the cob than I can describe. We have even taken our corn to a new level with elote. Dan has smoked steaks and roasts and butts (ha!) on his new smoker. 

Our neighbors are some of the best gardeners on the planet. They went out of town for a month and asked us to harvest their garden. It was amazing. I made one zillion zucchini chocolate chip muffins. Dan learned to make Zuppa Toscana. I learned how to cook beets. We had a pretty successful garden as well. We've eaten like kings.

Part of our garden:

Bounty from Lee and Earl's garden:

Lee and Earl's amazing garden:

As always, we crashed other churches' Vacation Bible Camps. Three this year.

This dark photo is June accepting an award for memorizing the required verses at one of the camps.

We hiked into Saint Peter's Village to use the rope swing and go down the rock slides.

First you must climb over all of these rocks.

Swimming, Tarzan-style!

Rock slide:

Gwen's birthday was in July. It was on the same day as a summer party I scheduled for one of our co-ops. I didn't even realize that it was on Gwen's birthday until two days before. 

Picking out which donut she wanted for her birthday breakfast.

New shirt from Grandma Sandy, plus some spending money.

Charm bracelet from Grandma Kristi:

Summer party that day. It was her friend Dora's birthday as well so we moms were able to pretend that this party was for them. Except it wasn't. 

I convinced a bunch of moms to launch a sneak attack on all of the kids with some water balloons. When they retaliated, I picked up someone's baby, hoping that kids wouldn't throw water balloons at a woman with a baby. But they did.

Lots of swimming and boating, but not lots of photos of either. The kids all love tubing, and the girls love knee boarding. I have finally gotten up on skis, but haven't stayed up long enough to count it. We are going again a couple more times before it's too cold, and I'm really hoping I can accomplish this goal before we put the boat away for the winter.

We attended a class one evening all about fireflies. 

The girls and I attended a performance by BYU-Idaho's Dance Alliance team.

June started wearing reading glasses:

The kids have loved on Gilbert. They love him TO DEATH. Like he might die of being annoyed by them. We have had many talks about how no one likes being chased down and poked constantly. To no avail.

We have been able to attend the temple a lot this summer. Two times on our vacation to Utah, and three times since coming home. I took my friend Cathyjo through for her first time. Her son was home from his mission to have surgery and was able to see his mother go through the temple. He was so sad to have to come home from his mission for a couple of months, but we now all see how it was the Lord's timing.

Dan and I attended the temple twice together this month. That is a very rare occurrence. Our ward offered free childcare at the church building across the street one of the times, which was a huge blessing for us.

This is why I love summer. This particular summer we decided not to do any sports and hardly any camps so that we could swim and go to the temple and boat. It was awesome. 

Today we had our Back to School Feast, and tonight Dan will give the kids and me blessings for our new school year. Technically, we started doing a few things at the beginning of August, namely math, handwriting, music, and some reading. But this week and next our co-ops will resume, and we will be full-fledged schooling for the next several months. I know it's time but in my heart I'll be thinking about swimming.

The End.

Utah, Boat, Dog.

 We've had some major life changes take place in the Jolley household lately. (By the way, I just misspelled our last name. I first wrote Jolly. I'm finally giving into what the world wants, and that is for the -e to be omitted from our last name.)

At the end of May, we went to Utah for two-ish weeks to see family. The first week, we stayed with my mom and did all of the northern Utah things. We went to BYU, Temple Square, took TRAX to Music and the Spoken Word, ate loads of Cafe Rio, and saw many wonderful friends.

On the flight out to Utah, Beck threw up no fewer than 10 times. Who knew a little body could contain so much spew? Dan took Beck to the back of the plane to use the bathroom, and after several minutes, a shirtless Beck came marching down the aisle, stopping at each set of seats to make sure that everyone saw that he was half-naked and getting away with it. Beck loves being naked and rarely gets away with it anymore. 

Then he sat down next to me and proceeded to barf 98 more times. When we changed planes in Denver, I was the lucky contestant accompanied Beck down the jetway whilst holding a barf bag to his lips to catch anything that came flying out on our journey. 

I saw so much fear in so many pairs of eyeballs as we walked on the next plane to Salt Lake City. Everyone was silently pleading with us not to sit anywhere near them. Which, to be honest, I am used to that look. But this had an extra "nobarfnobarfpleasenobarf" level next to it. A new level of desperation.

So that was a tough part of the trip, only to be matched by the other hard part of the trip, which was when Harris took a turn at throwing up, and this time it was right outside the Church Office Building. We know how to leave an impression.

The second week of the trip, we went to St. George for Dan's family reunion.

There were 28 of us in a house with a private pool and a hot tub and a large lagoon we shared with a neighborhood. We cooked and cleaned up and swam and made s'mores and watched movies and made crafts. And then we would go to bed and do the same thing all over again the next day. It was all very fun, and we were dead by the end of it.

My friend Kendra took amazing family photos for us. 

The Original Jolleys:

The Whole Huge Gang.

And Our Small Crew.

Anyone who knows Dan Jolley knows that he has wanted a boat more than anything. More than a wife, more than kids, more than financial security. I kid, I kid. But a boat has always been on top of Dan's list. So when we found one for a very used one for a decent price, we decided to splurge. 

There's been a learning curve involved. Most of the time, I'm a huge planner. But sometimes the four kids and the homeschooling and all of the responsibilities pile up on me and there isn't much time to plan, so we jump forward and plan later. Which means that we bought a boat without knowing how to get a license, and without having a hitch on our van, and without knowing how to back up a trailer. The first time Dan went to take the boat out, he couldn't remember which one was ours. That's the level of jumping ahead I'm talking about. But we finally got licensed, insured, hitched, and practiced backing up the trailer.

In fact, here is a super blurry pic of Dan backing the boat up into the water. I'm his first mate. I'm a terrible first mate. I know nothing and help with nothing besides documenting boating trips by taking terribly blurry photos.

THAR SHE BLOWS! I realize that that phrase refers to a whaling expedition and not a ski boat, but it seemed much more interesting than "Here's our boat."

June on the knee board:

Gwen on the knee board:

Captain Dan, and his loyal Sea Puppy, Gilbert! Yes, in the midst of this non-planning splurging we had going on, we also acquired a dog. Just about as much planning went into the dog as did our boat buying.

I was so against him. But I love him. I'm his favorite, which makes me like him more. He gets it, you know?

Other happenings:

The lady that teaches June how to ride horses (and who also sold us our new puppy) offered to host all of our kids at horse camp one week this summer in exchange for my cleaning her she-shed. I do love a good organization project, so I readily agreed. The camp counselor quickly discovered that the only way to contain Beck was to keep him atop a horse, so he had more than his fair turns riding compared to the other kids.

Gwen had her big annual dance show. She and her friend Heidi have been in jazz together two years in a row. They did such a great job that it almost soothed my soul from the terrible experience of having to put mascara on an 8-year-old who hates it several times in a single week.

We've had this clematis for three years, but it would never bloom. Bloom it did this year, and I'm thrilled. Now I just need a better wreath for my black door so it doesn't look like a giant bruise.

We had our second annual strawberry picking fest with our friends the Cramer's at Sauder's Strawberry Patch. We went the very last day of the season because it was the only day we had time, only to arrive and find out that all of the strawberries are free the last day. We went crazy.

I made tons of freezer jam and we ate so many strawberries that we were a little sick. 

And our church photo from today:

The End.

Beck + Josie

I recently did a photo shoot for a toddler wedding. My own toddler's wedding. 

Let me back up.

Several years ago, a man stopped by my family's table at a church activity to chat. Seeing that my kids were hopped up on goofballs (as they usually are), he made the oh-so-unhelpful comment, "I see that the inmates are running the asylum here." I wasn't mad in the slightest because he. was. right.

And that coup from many years ago remains successful today. We parents are mere pawns in our children's schemes. Sometimes I get to carry out one of my own ideas, but really it's only an idea that my kids have planted as a seed in my head and then have worked tirelessly to grow until it comes to fruition. I am the Manchurian Mother, a mere instrument through which my children are taking over the world.

Which is how I came to host a totally unnecessary and somewhat frivolous toddler wedding within the walls of my own crazy home.

Some of our closest friends are the Whitlocks. My June and Gwen and their Charlie and Raelyn have been talking about pairing up our Beck with their Josie for the longest time. I didn't mind this a bit as the girls could be entertained with the planning of this for hours, and it bought me a lot of time during our playdates. 

But then they started asking when we could host this thing. And I balked. "That's ridiculous," I said. "We aren't going to be weirdos who have toddler weddings."

It turns out that's exactly who we are going to be--weirdos who host toddler weddings. I don't remember the exact moment I changed my tune but what started out as an adamant "NO!" turned into me at Dollar Tree blowing 15 bucks on toddler wedding decorations.

Beck, at his destination wedding beach spot, eagerly awaits his one-true-love/playdate-partner-he-often-refuses-to-play-with, Josie.

The blushing bride, scampering down the aisle to see her beloved frenemy. 

Harris, the sole shy resident of this family, chickened out of officiating, so Head Bridesmaid/Wedding Planner/Wedding Dictator June jumped in to save the day.

The solemn union was solidified by a hug. They exchanged ring pops. (Note: Dan made fun of this whole thing for a long time and kept giving me a hard time for giving in. But then an hour before the ceremony, he went to the store to buy ring pops because he said "they have to exchange rings!!" Everyone is guilty over here.)

And a KISS! 

The happy couple departed on Harris's borrowed big wheel, complete with streamers and a "Just Married" sign June made and affixed to the back.

And then we had pizza and a little white cake I had made. The best part was that the parents weren't allowed to participate in the actual wedding, so we all wore sweats. 

The End.