Hagen's 5th Birthday

Dear Hagen,

It is a well-documented fact that you don't care about birthday parties. This works out well, because your sister is more than happy to use your half of the annual birthday party budget.

For weeks before you turned 5, your dad and I had been suggesting fun things we could do to celebrate your birthday. We could go to Spokane! We could go to the hot springs! We could have a party! We could go bowling! You name it! With each suggestion, you'd shrug and go back to whatever you'd been building or sorting when we interrupted you.

A few days before the big day, we were all sitting at breakfast, and I said, "Hagen, please let me know what you want to do for your birthday. I'm open to anything." Laney piped up with, "I think we should go to Disney World!" You thought about it for a moment and said, "Well, probably I want to watch a few shows and then (pointing at Laney with your thumb) I guess we can do her thing." "NO, we are not going to do 'HER THING,'" I explained.

Then, our friend Ms. Correy invited us over for an unrelated multi-family game night, and I said, "Can I bring a cake and we'll just sing Happy Birthday to Hagen while we're there?" Done.

That's when you decided - speaking of cake! - that you wanted a Moana cake. And it should be pineapple cake. With Moana people on it. And cream cheese frosting. It's just like you to have an opinion at the eleventh hour. Since pineapple cream cheese Moana cakes aren't exactly filling the shelves of our local bakery, I made you one myself.

Graham cracker sand and Swedish fish and coconut marshmallows around the bottom. 

Your dad picked out your birthday present...six Transformers that can all be combined to make one enormous mega-Transformer. I am a thousand percent sure your dad bought the Transformers so he could play with them himself.*  I wrapped them individually and handed one to each kid at the party with "Here - give this to Hagen."

We all had fun playing games (your dad beat Mr. Greg at Madden Football again). 

Then it was time for cake and ice cream.

I took a lot of pictures of you blowing out your candles, and you know what I realized when I looked back at them? That the whole time, your sister had been holding on to you so you didn't slip off your chair. That's a sweet sister you have there.

Correy's daughter Abby had just gotten a full-size gymnastics mat for Christmas, so Laney and Abby used it to put together a glow-in-the-dark floor show in your honor, including using an overhead projector to decorate the ceiling. 

The girls came to me and asked me to be the show's announcer - if there's one thing your sister loves, it's being introduced - so I got to announce the "Jaw-dropping, spine-tingling, mind-bending song and dance stylings of Miss Abby Harrison and Miss Laney BURBAAAAAAACHHHH!!!" I also got to make in-show commentary like "I haven't seen that kind of marching in unison this side of North Korea!" Frankly, there are days when my drama degree and I should not be allowed in public. 

At the curtain call, the girls allowed you up on stage and told the audience, "This performance is dedicated to Hagen Burbach!" And you all took a bow. 

What a perfect low-key party for a perfectly delightful low-key guy. 

Love,

Mom

* See? -

God Bless Us, Every One

Merry Christmas, Y'all. 

We did our traditional Christmas Eve activity where we put on the pajamas Peg Peg sent, and I drag out some of my studio lights and I trade you one present for five minutes of posing and good behavior:

Hagen has been really into Pokemon lately...he loves that they are little monsters that can evolve into different monsters, and they come with an honest-to-God handbook detailing which fictional creature has which imaginary powers, and I know this because I've ordered more than one copy and the boy falls asleep reading it every single night. One thing about Hagen: He loves specs. 

As a fun, super-cheap project, I ordered an assortment of 48 mini Pokemon figures (meant to be cupcake toppers), then I put each one in a leftover plastic easter egg and colored the Pokemon logo on each one with a Sharpie. Total cost: $6. I'm sure I don't need to tell you I coulda spent that six bucks and called it a day on Christmas for Hagen.

He opened it, and it blew his little mind and then he put them in a plastic bin and slept with them. 

Christmas morning went exactly as it has every year since Hagen was added to the mix. Laney immediately and enthusiastically opened all of her presents (including this Moana dress-up outfit).

Hagen had to be coaxed into opening presents, and when he did, he wanted to play with each one for the recommended 2- to 3-hour Montessori work period.

This makes Laney BONKERS.

About three hours into the festivities, your dad told me to "take a picture of what Hagen's opened so far." See below: one set of markers, one triceratops, one Lego mini building set and one mini flashlight.

...and then he went back to organizing his Pokemon figures from the night before with the help of his new flashlight. Reverse progress. 

As in years past, we ended up letting Laney open the last of Hagen's gifts and present them to him like a game show hostess. Everyone's happy...well, Laney's happy. Hagen doesn't care either way.

The biggest gift of the day went to your dad, who received a PlayStation and lots of games. From what I understand, he's going to have lots of downtime in a sad plywood bunk room in the Middle East, but they do have wifi, so I wanted him to have something he could watch Netflix on, or play games with. Something - anything - to make the time go faster.

Laney was a PlayStation master (literally) right out of the box. It was amazing to watch her learn how to use the controller. She and her dad had found a common interest and spent a lot of time this holiday playing Jurassic World.

I got bear spray in my stocking. What every Montana girl asks Santa for. 

 

I got to watch you all put together LEGO sets, and chase digital dinosaurs and we all played board games. 

Every minute of it priceless, because your dad was there to share it. 

Love,

Mom

When Dad Came Back

Hey, y'all -

So...to rewind a minute:

Your dad came home a little before Christmas, and it was obvious we were all very excited.

We've gotten a ton of snow this winter and had already been enjoying some outdoor activities, but when your dad came back to town, things escalated. Like that time I ran into the mall to pick up my new eyeglasses and came back outside to discover you cross country skiing in the parking lot. Total dad move.

Grandma Sue offered to pick you both up from school one day so your dad and I could sneak over to the Idaho border to ski. It was one of those days when conditions were SO cold and SO windy and SO sleet-y, all we could do was laugh at the absurdity of it. Your dad and I were on the ski lift together and started giggling... "Can you imagine the sales pitch from the person who first thought of this?" I asked. "Here's how it's going to work: We're going to plop your butt in a chair, and dangle it above a mountain with no safety rail, and it's not just going to be cold - it's going to be stupid cold. And it might sleet and will probably feel like someone's hurling Pop Rocks at your face. And then, you'll need to jump off before you get clobbered from behind by the seat. And after all that, you get to launch your body - on purpose! - down a mountain while your feet are attached to sticks! ...And that'll be $40 per person with a military discount."

Skiing is all about leg power, and I was reminded fairly early in the day that I am now a forty year old person. I told your dad that most of the day, I had an internal battle going that sounded like this:

My Thighs: I CAN'T!
My Brain: YOU MUST!

If you look at my face here, you can see that my neck and forehead are white, because they were covered and my face is pink from being pummeled by snow. This is your dad's idea of fun, fun, fun.

And then there was the sledding. We did SO MUCH sledding with our friends:

Laney and your dad had oodles of fun and had to be talked into 1) wearing a coat and 2) going home. Hagen was hit and miss; sometimes, he was up for the adventure, and sometimes, he'd go on strike, and we'd find him burrowed in the back of the Subaru with the chips and ham. Or hiding in his teacher's truck with his buddy Dylan, eating pretzels and watching cartoons on my phone. 

Sledding highlights:

I could listen to your dad laugh like that all day long. 

Love,

Mom

The Greatest Present. The Best Excuse.

Hello, Family and Friends - 

As you probably know, Thor spent most of November and December away from us as he traveled the country, training for his upcoming deployment. 

He was allowed to come home for two weeks over the holidays, just in time for Christmas. The best guy I know became the best present I ever received. So many of you were so lovely during this time: inviting us to dinners, sending Christmas gifts, calling to give us your support. If we didn't attend or answer the phone, I'm sorry. We were busy making as many memories as possible in those two weeks. 

We skied and sledded and played in the snow. We watched movies, four in a bed. We opened presents and played games and celebrated Hagen's birthday and your dad and I went on dates. We hunkered down and held on to each other, and tried to ignore the inevitable.

Thor left this morning at 3am. It was just as rough as you'd imagine; I can honestly say watching him leave was the hardest thing I've ever done.  By the time he comes back to us, Hagen will be a third of the way through kindergarten. Laney will be an 8 year-old third grader. 313 days, give or take. Thor prefers to think of it as 7400 hours. Laney likes the idea of twenty seven million seconds. 

Somehow, we'll make it. Your dad likes to point out that this is only so hard because everything else is so great...the separation is so painful because we all actually love each other so much. His logic - as always - is impeccable.

Next week, we'll be back to making social calls and writing thank you notes and updating this blog with the photos from the past few weeks and reaching out to you, our friends and family. In the meantime, thanks for letting us tune out the world and hold on to each other as much as we could for as long as we could. 

-Brooke

Christmas Show Extravaganza

Dear Laney,

I am becoming a connoisseur of elementary school plays and pageants. Your second grade holiday spectacular was by far the best holiday show I've attended thus far (with kindergarten's "Pirates of Pinataville" the real low point in the series).

For the weeks before the show, you would demonstrate to me the movements to each and every song in the program..."Then the third grade girls do THIS!" "Then the kindergarteners do THIS move...!" There's a recurring nightmare that every former drama major has, and it goes like this: You're backstage and someone whispers "That's your cue!!!" and you realize you're supposed to walk on stage, but you've never been to rehearsal and you've never read the play. I can tell you that in this case, I could have done it - I could have capably understudied any of those young'uns - because that's how often you talked to us about it.

The night before the show:

Laney: Mom...I need to wake up early so I can practice my lines.
Me: Really?
Laney: No.

The plot of the show was about toys coming to life under the tree on Christmas Eve...sort of a Fisher Price My First Nutcracker. 

For the benefit of the die-hards (grandparents), I edited together a 3-minute highlight reel of the show, with a few moments from each song. You can spot Laney because she is front and center, in a long red velvet dress, antique brooch, striped tights and purple sneakers. I had nothing to do with any of the above.

Roll that beautiful holiday footage:

Love,

Mom