Merry Christmas 2015

Merry Christmas! 

In the spirit of holiday cheer, we are listing our kids in random order and including whatever sentences are left about them after they edited this.  

Mia, 7, is in dance and is our little socialite. She practically lives at her friend Becca’s house (where chocolate chips are served—I can’t compete with that). She had a banana-monkey birthday party and loves to talk like a baby. She is very creative and always has fun with everything. 

Cora, 9, is our artist who is terribly unhappy when she doesn’t get enough sleep, so she naps sometimes, even without me making her. She’s a committed soccer player, busy learning the mental part of the game, and still loves to write stories. She is really good in school and loves math. She likes to play with her siblings. She even wrote some of these sentences by herself!

 

Graham, 3, is a mini adult who loves preschool, but has turned out to be shy when his older brother isn’t there. His specialty is making faces and doing sound effects—car crashing, beeping, exclamations. He’s a walking comic book.

Graham quote #1: (Making his biggest Graham-frown after Carter is mean to him) I am not Carter's brother. 

Graham quote #2: (Making a happy face after Carter is nice to him) Oh? Now I am Carter's brother? I love Carter. That's not Mia's Carter. That's my Carter.

Lina, 11, dances and talks, talks, talks. Okay, technically some of the talking is actually typing, when she’s texting and emailing her 90,000 friends. Her iPod is half her life. (She’s dictating this, okay? I’m not making this stuff up.) Her 6^th grade homework is the other half, and that drags her down sometimes. Good thing she has her sisters. The girls have cut me out of their negotiations with each other, so I only get to overhear tidbits. Cora was yelling at Mia when Lina interrupted, annoyed. “You don't have to reach over me. Just punch her later.” Direct and funny!

Last year, Mike made these minion costumes and this year we wore them to The Minion Movie. He's too busy for costumes this year, though. Mike is now the owner of the Brickwall Crossfit South gym and with friends has founded a new company, Homie, which produces technologies to help people buy and sell homes, even from their phones. He works downtown and takes the train daily. We miss him, but love visiting the gym, especially when the kids play on the bar, rings, and rowing machines.

And me? Well, in September I was trying to get a bigger butt (this is backstory—get it?) I did dead lifts before Mike and I went to my former roommate’s wedding in Seattle, and my back was hurting, but I thought, when am I ever going to dance with my roomies again? So I went all out. Then I fell down in the parking lot and couldn’t get up.  Totally worth it.

Vacation updates: After Legoland in the spring, our family camped at Arches with my family, filling up with popsicles and slushy chocolate milk, thanks to the miracle of dry ice. Later, Mike and I went to Hawaii without the kids for a volcano-biking, snorkeling, hiking, swimming adventure that was so action-packed, I almost longed for a vacation!

And finally, Carter, 5. Aw, Carter. The best for last. We signed him up for soccer alongside his best friend and he’s so much less spacy this year that when Micah scored in the first play, Carter hit him.  It’s great. He understands finally that he wants to score. He adds numbers, reads, buttons his Sunday shirts, and hasn't peed inside the house for sport in three whole months!

Me: Carter, how do we be reverent?

Carter: (Long pause to think hard) Because I put my seatbelt on in the car

Me: No, in church. What do we do to be reverent in church?

Carter: (Longer pause, harder thinking) Because I be nice.

Me: Be nice and don't hit anyone.

Carter: Yes. And keep my pants on the line. (Points to permanent marker drawn below his belly button.) The line is it where my pants stay on.

Me: That's right. If your pants fall off, remember, you’re banned from those pants, and have to go home and get new pants. So if you want those ones, keep them at the line. (That's an empty threat, of course. There are no pants that stay on.)

To end with holiday cheer, I’ll give you a taste of a typical Carter-argument.

First he flatters . . . 

Carter: Dad, can you record me on the phone?

Dad: Not now.

Carter: But you're a big man who can record stuff.

Dad: I said no.

 Then he bargains . . . 

Carter: But if you record me, I'll get the chicken eggs for you.

Mike: Sorry.

Then he bears solemn testimony to the realness of his threats . . . 

Carter: Well, the truth is . . . the truth is that if you don't record me I'll hit you. 

Mike: All right, that's a time-out.

And that’s a wrap! Have a wonderful Christmas!

Happy Holidays!

Holidays rock not just because of eggnog, but because you get to proclaim to all the world that your year was worth something.  We Trionfo’s have hit six states and the Yucatan peninsula.  Can you top it?  Can you, can you, can you? 

Okay, now that the mandatory bragging sections of this "letter" is over, we can focus on my kids and their strange, wonderful, fevered behavior.  Do not blame me that half of this is about Carter and his destruction.  Half of my life is about Carter and his destruction.

One fine summer day, the girls and I were painting fingernails in our friend Amy’s driveway, but Carter kept getting into the polish.  “Stop!  You’ll break the bottles,” I said.  Wrong thing to say. Break?  Carter took a bottle of polish and threw it as hard as he could onto the concrete, screaming when it shattered in a pink explosion.  Then he saw me coming and ran barefoot through glass and straight into the street where a car had to stop for him.  I locked him in his room for a time-out and he said, “Why am I in a time-out?  I’m being good now.  I’m not crying.”  He was totally serious.

Carter (half asleep and feverish on the couch):  Oh!  Look at the lights on the wall!

Me: There are no lights on the wall.

Carter (rubs his eyes, very confused)  Um . . . yes!  There they are!  The lights!  Right there!  Get your camera!  Take a picture of it!

I did.  There were no lights on the wall.  He went back to sleep.  Later he told me he didn’t have a cold, he had a “hot,” because his head was warm.  He talks in his sleep, too, about pink shoes.

Carter (in a time-out): Can I come out now?

Graham (giggling): Come out now?

Carter:  Mo-om!  I’ll be nice.

Graham: Mom, I be nice.  (More giggling.  Graham now not only repeats everything someone says, he knows it’s silly)

Carter turned four in July and after I took down the birthday party decorations, his shoulders slumped.  “Oh. I’m three again.” “No, silly!”  No matter what I said, though, every day when he woke up, he’d ask if he was still four.  Around the same time, he got a pair of Mia’s hand-me-down, skinny, low-rise, pre-faded jeans.  He looks like a male model every time he wears them, but they stay on. (A miracle.)  He probably wore them on Mia’s first day of school, when Carter packed his own lunch and put on his shoes and walked to school with her (and me), soooo sad he couldn’t stay.

We were going over our names one day:

Lina: I’m Lina Trionfo.

Carter: Carter Trionfo.

Graham: Graham cracker!

Little Graham cracker is potty training!  Last month, he got treats for poops and treats if he didn’t wake me up at night.  Yes, he knows some of his letters but still doesn’t sleep the night.  Sigh.  He also has trouble with his colors, so we joke he’s color-blind (like his dad).  He’s our only lefty and his hair is insane.  I glue section A to section B with gel every day to keep some bit of order up there.  Well, down there.  He’s tiny.  He sticks his tongue in his cheek when he concentrates.  He has a growl-serious voice to impersonate authority figures like Carter and a munchkin voice all the rest of the time.  If you ask him who’s cute, he says, “I am.”  See?  He’s smart, too. 

When we went to Pennsylvania in July, Carter fell in love with his fifteen-year-old cousin Nate.

Carter: Nate’s my boyfriend.

Everyone: No, he’s not!

Carter: Mom said!  He’s my husband!

Talia:  Not husband. Cousin.

Carter: Oh.

Later Carter asked if, instead of being Graham’s brother, he could be Nate’s cousin. I said he could be both.

On that trip, we lost Carter at the Crayola Museum, the Martin Guitar factory, Rehoboth beach in Delaware (long enough to corral dozens of volunteers), the Lehigh Valley zoo, the Hershey Factory, the Empire State building (their personnel do not like children to come equipped with arms and legs, btw, too much maintenance), a state park in Maryland, and a re-factored steel-mill-music-venue in  Pennsylvania.  But he never got lost while I paid the kids a dollar to dance with me and play follow-the-leader to a local band on Main Street in front of his grandparents’ house.  The next day, he and all of the cousins raided Mumsy’s closet for hats, glasses, wigs, scarves, and high heels for MAGIC!, a movie we shot in the front room, wherein magic accessories compel the wearer to dance in the style of the accessory.  It was totally rad.

Meanwhile, back at home, Carter’s behavior was so bad at grocery stores that I started taking him on practice runs to buy bananas or milk only.  One time he failed while still in the parking lot and we went home.  Another time, he made it all ten minutes until we got to the check-out stand, but then bit a candy bar through the wrapper. I had to keep hold of Graham, but was able to catch Carter by a forearm, which he fought me royally on because—besides the candy—it turned out he was also eating a booger.   Carter was yelling, “I like my booger!  I wanna eat it!  I want to!”  And I was like, “Stop!  Stop!”  And  Graham was screaming because no one was trying to make him not eat his boogers and why can’t he do everything Carter does?  It’s not fair!  And the entire time this store clerk stood there saying, “Put the candy bar down!  Put it down!”  So then I had to switch my mental yelling to, “Why don’t you do something useful like go get a freaking tissue?” 

 Note: I have never been kicked out of a store. 

Carter is calming down, actually.  It’s not unusual for me to be grinning and asking, “Did you play with knives?  Did you open band-aids and put them all over your body?  Did you write on Graham’s face?” “In the morning I did, but then I was so good!” Carter answers.  I tell him I knew he could do it, and give him a cotton ball to put in a jar on the counter.  He gets a toy from the store about once a week when it’s full.  

Enough about Carter.  Most of you know Mia’s birthday is close to the school’s cut-off date for kindergarten, and Mike and I decided to have her tested to see if she should move up.  The teachers decided to go ahead and place her in first grade.  Her first day produced tears because beloved Mrs. Clarke included a note that Mia needed to rewrite the spelling words from a class assignment, this time with better handwriting. I felt terrible for pushing Mia too hard, vowing to put her back in kindergarten, even if she did refer to her classmates as “those cute little kids.”  Then we got to the math page, which included a challenge question to make 10-6=4 into a story problem.  I explained for five seconds what a story problem was until she interrupted.  “You mean like, if I have ten boyfriends and six are busy, how many dates will I have?”  “Yup.  How about we say friends instead, though?”  “Sure!”  There have been no more tears and I think first grade is a good fit for her.  Can you imagine her explaining dating to the kids cutting and pasting in kindergarten?  Mia is so hilarious.  And obviously has older sisters!

Cora’s primary teacher got her candy and a whoopee cushion when she got baptized.  How awesome is that?  Cora was beautiful in her white baptism dress and also had a birthday party full of girls and face paint which they put on themselves.  Some were painted toe to knee and scalp to finger.  Cora is into self-fulfillment lately.  She uses YouTube to find instruction on painting and Spanish. She’s taking piano and tumbling. Also, this fall all the kids except Graham took soccer.  Holy scheduling!  Cora’s our most fiery player, scoring goals, out-running the boys, and turning cartwheels with the girls.  If you notice a bed that’s made in a kid’s room around here, it belongs to her.  Or to one of her siblings, if she’s been feeling generous.  :)

 

Lina continues to play violin for her school’s orchestra, enjoys biking to Peterson’s to buy candy, and was in the Math Olympiad last year.  Her dance competition took us to St. George in March, with a side trip to Zion National Park.  Her group eventually placed seventh out of dozens.  Lina did a “stall,” a headstand where her body is almost horizontal, balanced on an elbow. It’s sweet. Also this year, she and all our kids have discovered singing. We know the words to every High School Musical song.  After a quick tryout, Lina was cast as Jasmine in a playground play put on by her group of friends (I love these friends).  Lina and her best friend Halle sing Adele and Christina Perri from sheet music I play on the piano.  Our Christmas carols are in harmony now, just like my family’s growing up.  And don’t worry, we still dance Gangnam style.  I love it!

The big news for me is probably well known to all of you because I never shut up about it—I signed with literary agent Josh Getzler in April and got to meet him in July!  (Lots of gushing skipped here.) Josh and I are still going back and for on edits for SHATTER, which isn’t terribly uncommon in the writing world. So keep waiting another year and I might have more news.  Haha.  Meanwhile, I’m working on another story and chasing Carter every day.  Plus, Mike took me dancing until three a.m. in Cancun, so, yeah—this year rocked.

Mike is enjoying his time with the startup he is working on. Check it out at payvio.com.  He has turned into a CrossFit snob and goes most days.  He loves it, and we love it too because he is much stronger and healthier than before! He also has acquired 6 chickens for the family and built a coop for them in the shed.  

Final note of holiday cheer:  Did you know you can put a Gogurt in your ice machine and get bits of plastic in your drinks for three months?  You can! We’ve tried it!

(After I wrote this yesterday, Carter shoved Graham so I took him into his room for doing bad things.  He threw himself on the bed and wouldn't look at me.  "I do bad things so now Jesus will make you a new Carter."  "No," I said.  "I don't want a new Carter.  I want you."  He smiled and gave me a huge hug.)