Monday, May 1, 2017

Finley's Fifth


Hey, y'all - 

Much to catch up on. I know. Allow me to ease into this. 

With your dad gone, I'm of course missing my better half but most of all, I'm missing SOMEBODY ELSE TO DRIVE YOU YOUNG'UNS EVERYWHERE. Y'all, I can't overstate how much I hate driving. I have threatened to put Hagen in an Uber, because that's how much I hate driving across town to his school. We have all these new roundabouts in Missoula and no one knows how to use them and no one yields appropriately, and I suffer from Roundabout Rage. When your dad is here, I mostly sit in the passenger seat, reading magazines and engaging in sparkling conversation about pop culture while your dad tunes me out. Heaven.

It's funny the things I didn't know to prepare for. I was hanging out with a group of girlfriends the other day, and they all started comparing how they share childcare duties with their spouses...like, "He does the teeth brushing and the bedtime story and tucks them in while I relax with a glass of wine, and then I get the up in the morning and get them ready while he sleeps in." And I'm not embarrassed to say that I teared up, because for now, I'm doing all of those things and having someone to share that load seems like ultimate luxury. I know there are single moms doing it all over the world, and my situation is only temporary and I need to get over myself, but y'all, it's hard. 

So let's catch up a little, shall we?

Hagen, your eternal best buddy Finley moved with his family to Idaho. They came back for one last weekend before they closed on their house to host Finley's fifth birthday party. 


"I'm this many!" "I'm this many now, too!"



There was face-painting, and everyone got to be some kind of animal.




Hagen, of course you couldn't just be "a dinosaur," and instead requested to be "A triceratops with electric powers who has three red horns and can shoot sparks and also evolve into a Mega triceratops who..." blah blah blah while the line built up behind you.


Then it was time to line up for the piñata.


Hagen, you have a billion wonderful, unique qualities that make you one of my life's great joys. But no one has ever said, "Boy, I admire that kid's athletic ability." This does not stop you from being recognized by a Rookie Sports Camp Counselor every time we go to the YMCA, where they shout out "Haaaagen!" when they see you and tell me "He was my favorite. I mean, he never did a day of sports, but still. We'd say 'Today, we're learning about soccer!' and Hagen would say 'That's too bad, because today, I am a coyote!' and he ran the perimeter of the field howling for an hour. He's awesome!"

Your lack of interest and participation in Sports Camp becomes apparent in situations like a group piñata bashing. 

You stroked the piñata with the bat. You danced with the piñata. You did everything short of taking the piñata on an official date. It was adorable and completely bizarre. 


Then of course, your sister got up there and smashed the snot out of it.


Hagen, your friend Kai shared his piñata candy with you, and you consumed enough to candy to suffer from a true piñata hangover.



The following week, we were invited to another birthday with ANOTHER piñata, and sure enough:


Eh, until the YMCA comes up with a Piñata Camp, let's just chalk this up to "stuff you get from me," and move on. 

Love,
Mom









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