Happy 16th Birthday to Hurricane Hadley!

Dear Prin,

I never thought we would see this day! Sweet 16 in Quarantine! Just as we’ve always dreamed! This past year has been a return to light after a few very dark years as you’re starting to figure out who you are (or maybe, return to who you always were). You’re a hilarious, smart, beautiful, creative creature who has a bright future and you’re just starting to figure out how capable you are.

For your sophomore year of high school, you have started carving out your place here. In Colorado, you had a built-in friend group since birth and rebuilding has been a slow process. Friends have come and gone but this year, you started to attend high school football games with friends, Homecoming with a group from our ward and a new friend group on the other side of town.

You were accepted into the Kimball Art Center’s Young Artist Academy. Though it was a bit of a pain to drive to Park City every Tuesday night, it became your safehaven. No matter your mood going in, you always came out rejuvenated and refreshed as you were given the freedom to create and just be. My favorite part was our chats when we drove home when you would talk freely about the many things on your mind, a reminder of when you were an unfiltered little girl and would chat about anything and everything.

You have loved make-up since seventh grade but this year, you’ve taken it to the next level. Your face has become your palette for the whimsical, fun, weird and grotesque (yes, I’m talking about those bloody horror movie makeovers). I never know what you’re going to come up with next and it’s so fun to see your creativity shine in different ways.

We are in the process of finishing our basement and it has been a lot of work for all of us but most especially your father. You will finally get the larger room and closet at the back of the house you’ve coveted since we moved here…and we can’t wait to finally have a home theater room and rec area for you to hang out with your friends. After almost four years of living here, we finally put up our trampoline a couple of days ago after a looooong series of missteps of your dad buying a cheap, used trampoline that needed a mat upgrade, only to order the wrong one three times in a row. But! We finally have a trampoline and you’ve spent more time on it than any of us.

Quarantine has been…quarantine. As I’m writing this, we’re been over 2 months isolated as a family. Online schooling has been rough because it’s just not your out-of-the-book, experiential learning style but you’ve managed to crank out mostly As and a couple of Bs. In some ways, you have thrived as an introvert. You’ve taken up puzzles.  You’ll spend hours on Tik Tok and YouTube while blasting your heater. You don’t feel pressured to go out. But in other ways, you were just starting to spread your wings so two months with your parents feel stifling at times.

You and Bode have bonded and have reestablished a strong relationship. You both picked up a dog-walking gig and your jaunts with Chewy and Zelda have been a highlight, especially after the passing of your beloved Fat Kitty last month. When we first brought Fat Kitty home 10+ years ago, you were obsessed with him and his passing was devastating for you. But now, you’re obsessed with getting a dog which Dad says will happen after we finally finish the basement and fence in the yard. If the timeline is anything like the trampoline, that means…20 years from now.

Last year for your 15th birthday, we were at our glorious Broadmoor which had been our standing tradition for a number of years. Sadly, my PR contact retired and those beloved trips have come to an end (hopefully not forever) so we’ll be creating new traditions now. We will be going to Salt Lake City today to shop for your new room and have a backyard Cafe Zupas dinner with the Johnson clan. Hopefully when the basement is finished and social distancing is a thing of the past, we can have a nice, big soiree to truly celebrate you!

We had a few great trips that included Canada and a detour to Jasper en route from the B.C. Lakehouse to Calgary.  You had a blast attending OFY (Outdoors for Youth) in Idaho, as well as Heber Valley Girl’s Camp (where you were beyond thrilled to have me as your camp director!) Our friends the Olsens and Andersons, invited us on their Lake Powell houseboat last summer which was a glorious, hot week of wakesurfing, cliff jumping, playing games and late nights.  Last winter was your return to the slopes after your ski accident a couple of years ago where you worked through your PTSD and did some pretty impressive feats out there (including skiing double-black diamond McConkie’s Bowl).

You have developed a wicked sense of humor. You got your wisdom teeth out earlier in the year. I pulled Bode out of school to record what we hoped were some epic drug-induced hilarities but nothing. You snapped out of it very quickly, much to our disappointment and our inability to submit your blackmail video to America’s Funniest Videos and snag the $10,000 prize. All we got were two days of sleepless nights and lots of bloody gauzes.

You have wanted to get a job but few places were hiring at 15 (and honestly, we didn’t want you working while you were in school). You and Bode made some money by starting a business selling giant pumpkin seeds but a couple of weeks ago you landed your first real job at Dairy Keen, the local burger hotspot.  Jobs during quarantine look a lot different: they take your temperature when you arrive at work, you wear a mask and gloves, everything is deep-cleaned and partitioned off in the restaurant. They threw you right into the mix by making shakes and you’re adapting quickly and are enjoying it (with the exception of those many hours on your feet after many lackadaisical days homeschooling from our bed in quarantine).

You’re not known for saving money but when I told you if you carefully save your earnings and pay your tithing, you’d have enough money to buy a car by the end of the summer, which has fueled your fire for working. A car = independence. You’ve had a lot of anxiety about driving and the cancellation of school has forced me to become your instructor with some perilous moments (remember when you thought the gas was the brake and you lurched us forward and later said, “Wrong Pedal?” Good times.  And there was the time when you drove for the first time and kept repeating, “I am a responsible citizen,” enough times to almost make me believe it.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a breakthrough when we took the leap to have you drive into Heber for your beloved Crumbl cookies…and then get COVID tested at the outdoor testing station. You did a great and though you are still figuring out how to go in reverse (and I shudder at the thought of parallel parking), you’re making a lot of progress. You delayed getting your Learner’s Permit until last February so can’t get your license until August but I have no doubt you’ll be ready.

But will I?

As the story goes, the night before you were born (10 days before my due date), your dad was stressed out at work and told you, “Hadley, if you’re born tomorrow, I’ll buy you a car on your 16th birthday.” Of course, we can’t exactly afford that but working your butt off all summer to buy your own is almost as good, right?

I have been writing for Ski Utah this year and they hosted us at Brian Head Resort. On your first run down the tubing hill, you flew off your tube (not realizing you were supposed to HOLD ON). You sat out recovering from your face plant for a while, but on the final run, you were ALL IN…and the guy next to you serendipitously recorded our little crash dummy slam into the crash pads at the bottom.  As you limped off the course, a staffer (who had witnessed her previous incident), commented, “Wow, way to finish strong.”
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Here’s to hoping that is in all of our futures, maimed and all. Your junior and senior years are ahead of you with the potential for a lot of fun times. Remember who you are, the love of your Heavenly Father and your parents.

Now, go out and wreak havoc on the world, my little hurricane.

Love,

Mom

 

P.S. For a stroll down memory lane, read letters for your  15th birthday, 14th,  13th12th11th10th, 9th 8th7th6th5th4th3rd2nd and your birth story.

(Easter 2020)

(Fat Kitty good-byes)

(Last snuggle)

(Homecoming: Ammon, Wally, Stockton, Hunter, Will, Preston, Hanna, Boston, Hadley, Kallie, Edyn)

(Salt Flats)

(Aunt Lisa’s 1980s Party)

 

(Lake Powell)

The New Now

Remember: This pandemic is not the “new normal,” this is just the “new now.” Thirteen-year-old Bode has always been a deeply intuitive child. On Friday, he taught us an important lesson on perspective during our little graveside service for our beloved pet.

Bode was 3 when we adopted Fat Kitty and it was his earliest memory. “I remember when we were driving home with him for the first time that it was Dark outside,” he shared. “But then today when we were driving home with him for the last time after putting him down, it was Light.”

I was struck. During one of the saddest moments of his young life—when that car felt silent and dark—all he saw was light.

A month ago, I listened to a podcast by Boyd Matheson about perspective and this “New Now” we’re all living. It’s so easy to overreact but we don’t necessarily know if something is good or bad in the beginning. We just know it’s hard, discouraging or frustrating.

Boyd shared the story of an incident in high school that altered his course as a collegiate athlete…and the wise community member who shared the powerful Sufti tale. A certain farmer had a series of potentially devastating events to which his friends empathized about the unfairness of each tragedy but the farmer’s response was always the same, “This isn’t so awful, we just don’t know.” The outcome at the end of a series of unfortunate events was a miraculous, life-saving one. (It’s a short but wonderful lesson and worth a listen: https://omny.fm/shows/inside-sources-with-boyd-matheson/this-is-not-the-new-normal-just-the-new-now?fbclid=IwAR2RLG-nrBec1SE5uoS_vKUlOyE8tciCNFIWFF8xE0HvE7_8oFrR9U5-U-E

The Farmer’s Judgment .. A Sufi tale

Once upon a time there was a farmer who had some land a ways outside the village.
He had a son to help him and one good horse. Indeed, it was a magnificent horse.
So magnificent, that when the King passed through the village, he heard about the
horse and asked to see it.

The King was so impressed that he offered the farmer a considerable amount of
gold for the horse. But the farmer would not part with his horse, and the King went away.

The next day, the horse ran away!

The villagers rushed to the farmer and exclaimed, “Oh, how awful. Your horse
is gone and you don’t have the gold! What a bad thing has happened to you!”

The Farmer replied, “Well, I don’t know that it’s a bad thing, but I do know
my horse is gone and that I don’t have the gold.”

A few days later, the Farmer’s horse returned. And, not only did the horse come back,
he brought six wild and beautiful horses with him. Each would be worth a great
sum once they were broken and trained.

When the villagers heard, they rushed out to see the horses and to say to the
Farmer, “Oh, you were right! It was not a bad thing that your horse ran away.
Now he has returned and brought you six more fine horses. It is a good thing!”

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not,” the Farmer said. “I just
know that my horse has come back and brought me six more horses.”

The following day the Farmer’s son was trying to break one of the wild horses and
he fell off and broke both his legs. Again the Villagers visited the Farmer and
they exclaimed, “Oh, you were right! It was a bad thing that your horse came
back with six more horses. Now, your son has broken both legs and cannot help you
with your crops. Surely you will suffer great losses. Oh, what a bad thing!”

And the Farmer said, “Well, I don’t know whether it’s a bad thing or not. I only
know that my son was thrown from a horse and that both his legs are broken.”

The next day the King returned to the village. He was leading his soldiers to the
border where the kingdom was engaged in a terrible battle with a neighboring country
The enemy was fierce and most of the young soldiers were marching to their death.

As the King passed through the village he rounded up all the young men to join in
the fighting. Of course, the Farmer’s son, with his broken legs, did not have to go.

After the King and his men left, the Villagers rushed to the Farmer and exclaimed,
“Oh, you were right! It was a good thing that your son fell off the horse and
broke his legs. Now he will certainly not die in this war as will so many other young men.

The Farmer replied, “Well, I don’t know if it’s a good thing, or not. But I
know that my son did not have to go with the King to fight this battle.

And so the story goes….

All these things that are seemingly crumbling around us? We don’t know if this is so awful. I’m trying really hard to resist the urge to host my own pity party, remember that perspective matters and always look for the Light.

Quarantine Day 1,254

OK, I’ve lost track. Maybe it’s week six? Everything is blurring together but thankfully, the weather is finally warming up after a moody spring with snow and rain.  I went on a socially distanced bike ride with a couple of friends yesterday and today, I hope to take the kids hiking. We can still go outside and to the store. Restrictions are being cautiously lifted but I hope they take it slow. They’re talking about reopening gyms and that seems like the worst place to start. I can’t think of anything more germ-infested.

Last week was brutal. Between Fat Kitty’s passing, hanging insulation, Jamie’s health and oh yeah, after I brought up some issues to my boss, her response was to demote me to less than half my hours and for less pay. Three people have quit in the last few months…and we only had four staff members so that should tell you a bit about where we’re at.  Good times. But honestly, working less hours there has been better on my mental health; I didn’t realize how much it was weighing me down. Now, I just need to make up that money somewhere else and I’m turning my attention back to my long-neglected Mile High Mamas. We’re at the mudding stage of our basement so getting my hours slashed has added an extra measure of economic stress because we feel like we’re still supposed to move forward but there’s just a lot of uncertainty.

A bright spot from last week is we were also flooded with love, texts, food, thoughtful visits and on Sunday, I was on my way out the door after telling my humans they were lame because they wouldn’t give me any attention and I was going to bike to the grocery store to return our movie “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.”

As I opened the garage door, I saw this crazy crew singing and dancing. For me. And I marveled at these women who, in the last couple of weeks, lost a father, had a cancer diagnosis, job insecurity…really, we covered the gambit of Hard Things. And yet, still there they were showing up and dancing. And tomorrow, we will show up and dance for a beautiful birthday girl who needs an uplift and gosh darn it if seeing this strange new world of simplicity, beauty and connection doesn’t bring tears to my eyes.

The kids are doing about as well as can be expected. Hadley’s school work (and boy crush Josh) keeps her busy and Bode is breezing through online schooling and usually finishes his work early which leaves waaaaay too much video game time. (Intervention needed). Our neighbor’s dog Chewy was on the lam a few weeks ago and when the kids returned him, they picked up a dog-walking gig a couple of times a week with Chewy and Zelda. It has been a nice diversion for both of them. They have also been helping me cook dinner most days and our dishwasher died last week, leaving lots of nice family bonding time washing dishes.

As hard as quarantine has been on an extrovert like me, it isn’t great for introverts either because it is making Hadley even more anti-social. Not only is she doing PUZZLES now but we did a drive-by birthday party for our favorite girl Hanna and some of Hadley’s friends were there.

“Hey, Hadley. Go say ‘hi’ to them.”
Hadley: “I’ve forgotten how.”

But she apparently hasn’t forgotten her quick wit. Before riding over to our friends’ house, I grabbed a cowbell and asked, “What else can we bring that’s loud?”
Hadley: “We have you.”

Something fun that is happening is we are hosting an exchange student for the next school year. Of course, so much is still up in the world with COVID-19 but for now, everything is moving forward. We were contacted about hosting back in December. The liaison from the agency had posted a message on my Swiss mission reunion page that they were looking to place a young man last year….and I helped her put the word out locally. But this time when the agency reached out to me in December about a new placement–Maelle from French-speaking Switzerland–something stirred. We were planning to finish our basement (an issue before because we simply didn’t have room) and I was almost immediately struck by her profile.  It just felt right. I had never envisioned us as the kind of people who would host an exchange student but here’s the thing: you’re not really any type of person until you just do it.

We had an at-home interview with the agency on December 30, submitted a lot of materials and we finally heard back yesterday that everything was moving forward with Maelle. We’re supposed to hear from her in the next few days so that’s exciting! And strange. And makes me a bit nervous because we are at a wonderful place in our family dynamic right now–everyone is doing well (despite the challenges of quarantine) and our family bond has grown stronger this past month. How will adding someone else to the mix impact that? Regardless, Jamie and I both feel like she is supposed to come to our family so, good or bad, this is supposed to happen. We’re just hoping it’s all good. Maelle will be a junior like Hadley, is from Geneva (where I served my mission) and loves skiing, ballet, badminton and academics. Hadley will be the most impacted by all of this so we’re hoping it’s a positive, learning experience for her as she adapts to a sister for the first time. Bode is so easy-going and kind but has an inability to talk to girls–especially pretty ones–so this will be an interesting case study in our home.  Will Bode ever talk to Maelle? Time shall tell.

And, that’s about it. I miss Fat Kitty all day long. Being quarantined doesn’t help because he was my snuggle buddy. We’d eventually like to get a dog but the timing just isn’t right so we’re just prodding long trying to make the best of these final weeks of school before summer “break” hits. Whatever the heck that looks like! I’m personally REALLY tired of breaks…

 

In Memory of Remy “Fat Kitty” Tiger Johnson

We said good-bye to Fat Kitty today.  Since his colon cancer diagnosis on Monday, we were prayerful about when to put him down. We selfishly wanted more time with him but we didn’t want him to be in pain so as we saw his rapid decline, we knew Friday would be the day.

The doctor prescribed Prednisone to shrink the tumor and anti-diarrheal and anti-nausea meds but trying to get him to take them was moderately traumatic for him and us (he hid under Bode’s bed and was afraid of us). We made the difficult decision to not continue his meds so he could live his final few days in peace. And that they were. His little body was slowly shutting down. His once robust appetite was replaced by barely eating a few morsels a day, he strained to go to the bathroom and he withered away before our eyes, considerably lighter when we picked him up. I always proclaimed he was just big-boned and that he was…when most of his fat gone, Jamie estimated he was still 1 foot across when laying down.

Fat Kitty has prepared us for his departure all week, slowly pulling away and occasionally seeking privacy and refuge under Bode’s bed, something he hasn’t done in the 10 years since we brought him home. Jamie told us it was like an elephant graveyard…our sweet boy just knew the end was near. Jamie and Bode built him a little coffin made of wood and Hadley drew flowers and a sweet message. My wonderful friend Sarah came over on Tuesday to do a family photoshoot with him. He hated every minute but I’ll treasure those pictures forever. 

Last night was hard knowing it was his final night on earth. He fell asleep by my side but I awoke at 1 a.m., stressed about him and work. I looked around and he had disappeared. I surmised he had retreated under Bode’s bed again and I worked for a couple more hours. As I started to return to try to sleep again, I heard something in the laundry room: he was trying to go to the bathroom in his litter box. We met out in the living room and connected in a beautiful, tender way. As I looked into those magnificent green eyes, he told me he was ready. It was time. I brought my beautiful boy back to bed with me, in tears, and savoring every last minute with him. I only got two hours of sleep that night but it was a sweet night I’ll never forget.

He has been struggling all week but today, he was a bit more energetic. The weather was finally warm and sunny enough to go outside. He and Hadley explored his beloved fields and our neighbor’s yard. He sat on the porch cushion for an hour basking in the sunshine. When he came back inside, he retreated to Bode’s dark room for some privacy but Bode, Hadley and I surrounded him with snuggles on the bed. Poor cat was probably like, “Just leave me alone!” But we wouldn’t. That afternoon, I dimmed the lights to my bedroom, played some calming music as Hadley and I massaged and snuggled him for his final few hours on earth.  We said a tearful family prayer with him one last time.

(Final touch and a smile)

Due to COVID-19, the vet clinic no longer does home visits so we had no choice but to take him back to the clinic. We waited on the back lawn as he anxiously sniffed the air and watched the birds. Every night before bed, Bode falls asleep to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s “God Be With You ‘Til We Meet Again,” and gosh darn if that kid didn’t play the song and make us cry all over again.

The vet tech came out to us, took Fat Kitty inside the hospital to shave his paw and insert an intravenous cannula. She returned with the veterinarian who was so gentle, sensitive and kind with him and us. We placed him in the middle of us, touching his back as the injection traveled through the tube and a matter of seconds, he slowly bowed his head and fell asleep. It was fast. It was heartbreaking. It was peaceful. 

Jamie placed him in his little casket and wrapped him with Aunt Lisa’s beloved blankie. I held him the drive home, just as I did the first time we brought him to our house 10 1/2 years ago.

We gathered around the little grave the kids and I dug this week. I asked if anyone had anything to say. Filled with emotion, Bode spoke up. He was 3 when we brought Fat Kitty home and he doesn’t remember life without him.

“I still remember when we brought him home to our house in Arvada, it was dark outside,” he reminisced as he looked up at the bluebird sky. “But today as we drove him back home for the last time, we were going toward the light.”

I read a eulogy I wrote (below) about our sweet boy, Jamie did a beautiful dedicatory prayer of the grave and we said good-bye to our boy forever. How blessed we were to have such a sweet, loyal and kind pet in our lives.

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 Jamie’s Facebook post:

To our dear pet of more than 10 years, Fat Kitty. To say our relationship was complicated, would be an understatement. I would explain my dissatisfaction at times for your early wake-up calls and you would show your dissatisfaction with a poop surprise.

Although our relationship was mutually love/hate, I loved you because you loved my family. There is no cat that has ever been more adored by two children and a wife. You brought them constant joy and for that I love you.

I will miss you hunting voles in the backyard. I will miss seeing you curled up with Amber on the bed. I will miss your strange but wonderful conversations with Hadley. I will miss the strange way you would lean yourself up against the wall so you could lick your Buddha belly. And I will miss your absolute zest and passion for food.

Sleep well, Sweet Kitty.

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My eulogy:

Remy “Fat Kitty” Tiger Johnson (October 2006ish – April 17, 2020) 

Our beloved pet, son, brother, mentor and best friend passed away from Colon Cancer on April 17, 2020. Fat Kitty lived a full life (or rather, spent much of his life full) in the company of his dad Jamie, mom Amber, sister Hadley and fraternal twin brother Bode.

Fat Kitty was rescued when he was about three years old and went on to spend 10 ½  wonderful years with the Johnsons. His talents included catching mice and then sitting on them for fun, doing backflips off window sills after slamming into the blinds, getting attacked by mama magpies for attempting to stalk her babies, eating copious amounts of TUNA, finding the softest place to sleep and using poop as a weapon when he was mad.

Fat Kitty always had to be near his humans, snuggling, purring and loving them hard. He was loyal and protective and would see his children off to school every morning and greet them when they arrived home. His “meow of death” made an appearance during his three memorable baths–two baths were the result of a muddy life on the lam, the other after his brother finger-painted him with chocolate pudding. Fat Kitty would quizzically look at his humans anytime they tried to (what’s that word again?) do a thing called playwith him…but they would occasionally see bouts of whimsy when his beloved Mr. Fluffles made an appearance.

(Mr. Fluffles)

Fat Kitty is preceded in death by Amber’s mom “Grandma B” who passed away almost exactly one year ago. The night before her passing in a midnight interchange with her son, she quietly told him, “I’m ready to go home.” At 3 a.m., just 12 hours before Fat Kitty’s untimely death, he and Amber had a similar encounter as he gently told her it was time.  He passed away peacefully the next day on the lawn of the Wasatch Animal Clinic surrounded by his loving family and the veterinarian who poked and prodded him his final weeks….but who provided the ultimate healing in the end.

Fat Kitty was buried in his backyard near the gate he used to sneak out of, overlooking the fields where he spent some of the happiest days of his life catching his “mouse friends.” He was laid to rest in the (kind of) little wood coffin his dad and brother built that was painted with roses by his sister. He is forever wrapped in the loving embrace of his favorite blankie and sealed with love.

May we all live our fullest lives like Fat Kitty by eating a lot, slumbering in splendor, crapping on the stuff you hate and, most importantly, always staying physically connected to the ones you love.

Our Sweet Boy

Fat Kitty has colon cancer.

His health has been failing him this week and I thank God a thousand times our spring break plans to Sea Island were canceled due to COVID-19 because he would have been all alone.

There have been signs the past couple of months that something was wrong but we didn’t pick up on them. He was throwing up a lot more…which we just attributed to binging and purging grass (which he tends to do). And then there is the trauma of the basement being finished. We’ve had a lot of loud noises pounding away, we completely filled our storage room with furniture which is where his kitty litter and food are located and he has refused to go down there. We thought he was just being anxious and his stubborn self. And of course, there’s the pooping. Since he wasn’t using his kitty litter box, he has been having accidents everywhere.

But it was when his vomiting came to the point where he couldn’t keep any of his food down last week, we took him to Wasatch Animal Clinic. Due to the Coronavirus, we weren’t able to take him inside so it was drive-thru service where we dropped him off and someone did the check-up while we waited in the car. They took his blood and treated him for deworming.  His levels from the blood test came back normal except for high white blood cells which generally means an infection. The vet thought he might have a UTI so we took him back on Friday. He should have gotten better but he was worse all weekend. Lethargic. Vomiting. Diarrhea. Even with the Easter commotion yesterday, he made a brief appearance before weakly going back to my bed, the place where he loves the most–curled up at my feet or by my side every night on the softest blanket. 

We took him back to the vet again today (Monday). It had been a week since this all started and they did an ultrasound this time and found a tumor. Colon cancer.  The four of us were crying as we listened to the vet tell us our options. 1) Chemotherapy. Expensive and painful treatments. And with an old kitty, it really wouldn’t add that much time to his life. 2) Prednisone. The same drug that gave Jamie life during his cancer treatments. It can’t cure Fat Kitty but it could possibly shrink the tumor and give us a few more weeks to say good-bye. 3) The vet could put him down at his office right there. WHAT?!

Jamie suggested we say a prayer to figure out our course of action and we ultimately decided to treat him with prednisone. He’s in a lot of pain right now so we’ll see if we can stabilize him and if not, we’ll say good-bye sooner than later. We don’t really have any pictures with him so our friend Sarah is going to come and take some for us.

As Hadley and I were sobbing on the drive home from our appointment today, I suggested we sing a song to make us feel better from my favorite movie “The Sound of Music.” Except when we got to the second line of “My Favorite Things” and it said, “Raindrops on roses, WHISKERS ON KITTENS,” we decided that maybe singing isn’t such a good idea right now.

So, we’re just going to enjoy these final hours or days we have with our beloved pet of more than a decade, unapologetically feeling the pain of this loss while honoring the world’s collective trauma of grief, panic over livelihoods, panic over loss of lives of loved ones, the anxiety of uncertainty and missed milestones, no matter how big or small because right now, it all feels big.

COVID-19: A Family Update

March 10, 2020 is when it all started unraveling. I have been doing bootcamp in my friend Sarah’s basement the past year and I met with her, our friend Jenn and Jamie, an ER doc from our ward. On all of our minds: COVID-19. I had been casually watching what was happening in China but it seemed so far away and non-applicable but things in the U.S. had slowly started heating up. We peppered Jamie with questions and she had answers.

No, the hospital and staff are not prepared.

We have only 30 test kits in all of Utah and no labs to perform tests.

This is going to explode. Soon.

Little did we know just how soon. Things would start unraveling fast later that day when church was canceled and moved to home-based, an NBA player tested positive causing the league to be canceled and Disneyland closed. Those were the big three that night.

When I arrived home from bootcamp, I told Jamie, “We’re going to Costco. NOW.” I was admittedly panicked because I knew we weren’t prepared. We had dumped most of our food storage when we moved to Utah. At Christmas, I had thrown out our expired canned food in our storage room with the promise to replenish ASAP…but hadn’t. We had some items but not nearly enough. There was an accident in Provo Canyon, causing an hour of delays. Jamie wanted to turn back but I knew this might be our only chance to go for a while. While we waited, I read to him the latest medical reports, solidifying to both of us that this was no flu. We had both undermined the severity.

The parking lot and store were packed but fortunately, we were able to navigate the store fairly seamlessly without waiting too long in line (the next week, Costco would only allow a certain amount of people in the store, resulting in huge lines around the block). We were able to stock up on most of our items with the exception of the staples that have been scarce in this pandemic: toilet paper, flour, sugar, sanitizers and yeast. We had two overflowing carts and spent $800; a personal record at Costco.

That was Tuesday. By Friday, school was canceled and the reality of homeschooling our kids set in.  Everyone was directed to self-isolate (only leave the house when absolutely necessary for food) but Hadley was placed under strict quarantine for two weeks; a student at her school tested positive for COVID-19 and was the first in Wasatch County.

The following week was one of nightmares. Trying to work while navigating an endless stream of emails from teachers. It was the end of third time (traditionally the most challenging of the terms) and Hadley was behind. Really behind. She was nearly failing physics and math and we had no way to help her. A friend’s son stepped in to give her virtual tutoring and we had a series of 10-hour days. I had my first panic attack that Monday, prompting Jamie to step in and provide more assistance (he has been a star, truly).

On Thursday, we were in bed watching the news at 7 a.m. when the bed started shaking. Really shaking. WHAT THE? ARE WE HAVING AN EARTHQUAKE? What fresh hell is this? A 5.7 magnitude earthquake, to be exact. We were 30 miles from Magna’s epicenter so were spared the worst of it but our nerves were frayed.

We somehow survived the week, Hadley squeaked out all As and Bs (a miracle), Bode got straight As (BLESS HIM) and we started our first week of fourth term on March 23. She is somehow two weeks behind…only one week into it, confirming what I have long suspected: she is not an ideal candidate for homeschooling. Bode is really self-directed and just cranks it out. She is easily distracted (a new boy in her life isn’t helping her focus) and when she gets overwhelmed, she just shuts down. She is already behind in every class and Jamie and I have been so busy ourselves we have done a poor job staying on top of it. I don’t know how working parents are managing everything.

The Monday before everything started crashing, our refinance came through to finish our basement. Last fall, Jamie strongly felt we should start on the process and I agreed. We haven’t liked this house–at all– because we just don’t have the space to entertain. Our home in Arvada was THE social hotspot for kids and they never bring anyone over here. Our basement will be the perfect refuge for teens with a home theatre and game room but we keep asking ourselves are we being foolish to continue with it with everything that is happening in the world? Maybe. But it is also something that has come together in a miraculous way. The building marketing was bustling a month ago and it would have been difficult to find contractors but now, so many are out of work that we are able to find contractors who are willing to work within the confines of our budget. We found a team that framed our basement in one day on Wednesday.

Last week was very chaotic with contractors in and out to give bids and the constant pounding with the framers. We are having them enter through the basement window to avoid contact with our family. This week, we have the plumber and electrician, after which we will hopefully get our permit and then move onto drywall and mudding after we hang all of the insulation. The good news is everyone is home now to help. Or bad news for the kids!

Some other things:

    • My friend Stacey was supposed to fly here from Canada on Wednesday (it was to be her first visit since our move). Our family was then supposed to fly to Sea Island, GA next Monday for Spring Break. Jamie’s best friend Stan has a condo there and this was a trip we had already rescheduled when a hurricane last fall forced us to postpone. This has probably been my biggest disappointment of the whole thing.
    • I’m so sad for all of the graduation ceremonies and milestones that have been canceled. My niece was supposed to get married in St. Lucia in a month. We’re lucky that didn’t have a ton planned for spring. Bode’s Nordic ski team ended a week early but they don’t train during mud season and Hadley isn’t enrolled in anything besides her Young Artist Academy which has gone remote. However, the kids both have weekly church meetings, Scouts, workouts and Bode is part of a board game group that hangs out regularly (they’re now doing online Risk tournaments). It has been strange to have everything wiped from our schedule. but also kind of nice to not be racing around all the time.
    • There has been a flurry of changes in church policies this past year and the inspiration is downright staggering. We have shifted to more home-centered church and it was actually been very memorable to have our own Sacrament meetings and classes in our living room. Except for when Fat Kitty started puking on me in the middle of it last week.
    • The first week was such a frenzy with zero self-care that I was a wreck. Last Monday, I let the kids sleep in until 9 a.m. so I could workout and having that time to myself has made all the difference. I started a GroupMe with friends “Quarantine Queens” to help motivate each other to stay active. I was much better–I even went for a ski up Snake Creek with Kristine and Donna–but I could still do better. I need to carve out an hour to myself every day for my sanity.
    • I’m grateful for our family relationships.  Of course, we’re only on Week 3 but overall, it has brought us together. Hadley and Bode were really close before we moved to Utah and while they have never fought, they have been on different planets the last few years. Quarantine has brought them back together. They have a blast playing Settlers of Catan as a family or Minecraft. It warms my mama heart to see their bond deepening. Jamie has been a complete rockstar with juggling work, all of the basement construction, Hadley’s homeschooling and everything else…all while he continues to struggle with his health.
    • Meanwhile, Fat Kitty is a mess (see previous puking reference). He hates change and there has been a lot of chaos and commotion. The Saturday before the contractors started coming, we spent an exhausting day moving everything out of the basement. Thankfully, we spent a week during our Christmas break organizing and pillaging everything in preparation but it was still a lot of work to move everything out. The most impacted was our storage area where we keep his littler box and food.  He voices his displeasure by pooping and he has voiced his displeasure loud and clear. The night after the framers left, he went down to the basement, desperate to let us know how mad he was. He always has to poop ON something (because pooping directly on the floor is not an option) but all he could find was a board so that’s what he pooped on. How you know you’ve hit rock bottom…. 🙂
    • This quarantine has confirmed one thing: We are the Addams Family and Hadley is Wednesday. Last night, I shared my friend Jenn’s darling ideas for daily themed adventures at home for spring break with her kids. On Wacky WEDNESDAY, they’re going to wear silly clothes, take an outing in the car and roll a dice at each intersection to see which way to go, eat mixed-up meals, and have a funny utensil night. Hadley looked at me and morosely declared, “We shall eat soup with our sharpest kitchen knives.” It’s gonna be a spring break to remember.
    • We went for a hike last week to a cool tunnel with graffiti that felt like we were plopped in a dystopian movie. Maybe we are. 
    • Self-isolation is HARD (especially for an extrovert like me). Yesterday, I was moping ALL DAY. I refused to work because I just needed a break but there’s nothing on TV I want to watch. So, I whined until Jamie and Bode took me for a walk up Dutch Hollow. It works for dogs…and me!
    • So many are suffering and that has weighed heavily on me. I had a conference call with the Health Department for work last week and domestic abuse calls have gone up significantly and it breaks my heart so many feel unsafe in their own homes. My dear friend Julie took Bode skiing with her son last month and got in a really bad ski accident and has been navigating a concussion. Yesterday, all the crap hit the fan: her dad has pancreatic cancer and collapsed (they don’t expect him to make it), their family of seven moved out of their house into a small apartment yesterday..and it was her birthday.

It has all been so much but there are silver linings. We went to Julie’s house (she obviously wasn’t there) and her husband recorded us singing a silly birthday song in our costumes. I joined friends to serenade a neighbor for her 30th birthday on Thursday. We left a note for a neighbor who lives alone of Hadley’s cool Quarantine Man” drawing. Last week,  Julie and Jenn brought me yeast because they knew we were running low. Yesterday someone ding-dong ditched us with Charmin toilet paper.

There is so much fear and pain but there is so much good and we’re praying and fasting today for healing and hope for this crazy world of ours.

Holiday “glitter grief” and an angel named Claire

I lost my mother in April.

It was a slow, painful death after a 30-year battle with Multiple Sclerosis.  Though she was larger-than-life, she wanted a small, intimate graveside service and we treated everyone to Chinese food at her favorite restaurant following the service. There were a lot of hilarious memories shared over a delicious plate of ginger beef–just the way she would have wanted it.

My childhood was steeped in tradition. Visits to my grandparents’ farm. Big, joyful celebrations. When I went away to college, she sent me care packages for every holiday, assuming they would stop when I graduated, but they continued for many years until she was too ill to send them, and my dad took over. 

For the most part, my grieving has been sporadic. I have been mourning her for years, as anyone with a loved one who has an incurable disease can relate. But I wasn’t prepared for how difficult the holidays would be. As I unpacked our holiday decorations, so many of them held memories of my mother. A crafting goddess who was a successful restaurateur, she handmade so many treasures that she passed on to me. As I decorated the tree with my daughter, I found a lace angel ornament I have never noticed before, one that was undoubtedly gifted by my mom: Mothers are really angels in disguise.

I cried. She probably gave it to me when I first became a mother, not knowing how much it would impact me on my first Christmas without her.  I love these sentiments adapted from George Shelley:

Grief is much like glitter. In the original time of tragedy, it’s like throwing a big handful of glitter up in the air. Then you attempt to clean it all up, as you don’t want to have to see that everywhere & be reminded of that pain. Over the next few days…weeks…years – you’ll find remnants of glitter everywhere, tucked here & there. Triggering you of the pain. The ‘grief glitter’ will be found in many nooks & crannies of your life. As years go by, there will be less glitter found in those secret places. But when a small glimmer of glitter appears….your heart will always go back to that moment of great loss.

I gave the eulogy at my mom’s funeral. It was chock-full of hilarious stories and some sad ones, too. Following the service, Claire Neville walked up to hug me. For much of her life, my mom was the life of every party but as her condition worsened, she shut out most people except for her family.

And Claire.

This 80+-year-old widow–who has known her share of trials and heartache–refused to leave her, often bringing her thoughtful gifts and staying with her when my caregiver dad needed a break.

So, I was surprised by what sweet Claire told me at the funeral. “Oh, Amber. I just loved hearing all of the fun stories about your mom. I never knew her back then and it makes me so happy to hear about her full, wonderful life.”

Mic drop.

Claire had been such an integral part of my mom’s life that I never realized her interactions with her were solely in her later, difficult years. 

How many of us can say that we have stood by someone during their darkest days, weeks, months and years, no matter how much they attempted to push us away? Our world needs less frenzied Black Friday shopping for the “perfect gift” and more gifts of kindness, love and mending of broken hearts without expecting anything in return. 

This Christmas mend a quarrel. Seek out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust. Write a letter. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in word and deed. Keep a promise. Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Apologize. Try to understand. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Be kind. Be gentle. Laugh a little more. Express your gratitude. Welcome a stranger. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. Speak your love, and then speak it again. -Howard W. Hunter

Because you never know what kind of an impact a simple, kind gesture can make. 

Fat Kitty: A decade-long celebration!

I can’t believe it has been 10 years since Fat Kitty came into our lives! Here is his introduction to the world!

I wouldn’t have believed it if you asked me if I would be a cat owner. Jamie had a beloved Cocker Spaniel, Duchess, growing up while I had Lacey the Bichon Frise. When I was younger, we had a spicy tomcat named Peppery who was the neighborhood bully. I used to dress him up in doll clothes and push him around in my doll stroller (which I’m sure went over splendidly) but he wasn’t what you’d call a beloved pet.  Rumor has it you’d be innocently sitting on the couch and he would pounce on your head from behind. His ultimate demise was getting in one of his many catfights at night and we had to put him down because his battle wounds got infected.

So, he was pretty much the opposite of Fat Kitty.

Jamie and I debated getting a pet because our Denver years were filled with so much travel that we didn’t know how we would manage it all. Though we loved dogs, they’re expensive and high-maintenance so when Jamie’s parents announced a move to Utah, we decided upon a cat to fill the void. I put it out on social media and a blogger friend had sadly relinquished her kitty when they moved and so we visited him in the shelter and were ready to adopt…but he was very sick, on a rigorous treatment plan and they didn’t know if he would make it.

I turned to Craigslist and made a posting about a loving family looking for a loving kitty and a woman reached out to us. She had a sweet kitty “Tiger” she had adopted from the shelter a few months ago but her current cat beat up on him (even taking a bite out of his ear).  They estimated he was about 3 years old and she had declawed him because of her leather couches; would we want to come see him?

It was love at first sight. Kind of. He was super shy and hid underneath the furniture. When we finally brought him out, he was a big, green-eyed beauty…but it wasn’t until we tried to put him in his crate that we realized just how big. The poor thing was terrified on the drive home (he still hates the car) and I pet him the whole drive home. I think he imprinted on me and I’ve been the favorite ever since.  We named him Remy but he has been Fat Kitty ever since.

It took him about 6 months to acclimate to our crazy clan and he spent much of that time hiding under beds and behind couches. However, on the first night we brought him home, he woke me up when he snuck into our bedroom. I pretended to be asleep when he jumped up on our bed and analyzed me for what felt like hours. Just when I wondered if this strange, new cat was plotting my death, he crept over to me and wrapped himself around my neck, purring. It was then I knew he’d be a good kitty.

He’s everyone’s favorite (well, except for Jamie because their relationship is dysfunctional at best) and here are a few of our favorite things about him for posterity:

Fat Kity has to find the softest blanket or pillow in the house to lay down (despite his permanent belly padding).

He is the least playful cat ever (and looks at you like you’re an idiot for even trying). We bought a lot of toys before we brought him home and couldn’t get him to play with any of them. We contacted the previous owner to see what he liked to play with and she hedgingly said, “He’s not really super playful.” Understatement.

He is, however, a lover and curls up next to us for marathon snuggles. He sleeps by my side or at my feet every night and becomes unglued whenever I’m out of town. Just ask Jamie; he gets the brunt of Fat Kitty’s neurosis every time I leave for extended periods of time.

The first time he caught a mouse at our house in Arvada, he didn’t know what to do so sat on it (undoubtedly a fate worse than death).

One our funniest memories is when Hadley and I were snuggled up in my bed and he walked into the bedroom. He was fairly agile when we first got him and liked to jump up on the window will. This particular day, the blinds were 3/4 of the way down so when he jumped up, he knocked right into them and flipped over backward. Hadley and I laughed for the next 30 minutes.

He has been an indoor kitty with outdoor tendencies so we slowly started letting him in our backyard. Our old yard was fenced in but a few times, he jumped up on the fence via the Powerbox and went on the lam. We found him a few doors down under our neighbor’s porch with their very enthusiastic Golden Retriever, Kozmo, excitedly pointing him out. He was hiding in a little hole so we ultimately had to spray him out with the hose which went over splendidly. He was covered in mud so it was one of his first baths where we were introduced to the “Meow of Death.” He hates water!

One of his other baths was when Bode finger-painted him with pudding. It took several years for Fat Kitty to warm up to Bode but they’re bestest brothers now. We estimate they were both 3 years old when we got Fat Kitty and if you know 3-year-olds, you know they’re not super great around pets. Bode never hurt him but just LOVED him so much that his snuggles were like being mauled.

Hadley, on the other hand, was obsessed. We got him when she was in kindergarten and every essay, drawing and conversation revolved around him for a few years.

After Fat Kitty went on the lam, we decided he needed supervised exercise so we bought him a leash to walk around the neighborhood. Do you know that scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding when Toula is working at the travel agency and sees Ian for the first time when she is wearing a headset to talk on the phone and she gets embarrassingly yanked back? That was Fat Kitty every time we put him on the leash. He would try to run away until he realized (too late) he was attached.

Fat Kitty hates change so our move was pretty traumatic for him. First, he had to go on field trips to the neighbors during our house showings and then he freaked out when we started packing up the house. And the 10-hour drive to Utah? Bad, bad, bad. We got him a sedative from the vet and tested it out on him a couple of weeks prior. He was a hilarious drunken sailer and we figured he’d conk right out but no such luck. Hadley and Jamie drove with him and he cried/meowed the entire 10-hour drive. When we arrived at Jamie’s parent’s house in Utah, he pooped in a few inappropriate places and then passed out on the couch from the trama. Poop is his weapon of choice when he is ticked off.

While our house was being finished, we stayed in my friend Kristen’s gorgeous Park City condo which didn’t allow pets so Fat Kitty stayed with Grandma for a few months. He was pretty traumatized those first weeks following the move and being abandoned but sure warmed up to her, Aunt Lisa and Grandpa. When we would come visit, he made very clear that GRANDMA was his new favorite person. They put him on a diet so he dropped a few pounds; it was the first time anyone has ever come home from Grandma’s weighing less.

He loved our old backyard in Arvada with his greenery and bushes to chill out in the shade. Our 0.5-acre property has been a dirt/weed patch but we finally got it landscaped this summer and he has had the time of his life! We back to some huge fields for prime mousing and he would sometimes disappear for a few hours. But we’ve never had any runaway incidents since our move. In his old age (13) he knows who butters his bread.

Speaking of bread, Fat Kitty has dropped a few pounds and is back to his svelte figure from the Grandma days. He was throwing up a lot last summer. and he had a lump on his side. We started freaking out he was ill and started by cutting back on his food (we would always just leave a large bowl out for him). His forced “diet” did the trick. That lump was just a blob of fat and he was throwing up because he was purging after overeating.

So, now he’s just a kinda Fat Kitty instead of morbidly obese Fat Kitty.

And we’re pretty darn grateful to have had this sweet boy in our lives for 10 wonderful years.

And the winner is…..

2019 was a successful growing year for the Johnson men. Well, kind of.  Jamie pulled his outdoor plant early in the season and Bode’s died a month before the weigh-off but these pumpkin men prevailed!

We attended the weigh-off at Thanksgiving Point which, frankly, is a disappointment compared to the Colorado one at Jared’s Nursery where they build an entire fall festival and haunted houses around the weigh-off.  In Utah, they have a few booths in an uninspired parking lot. However, some things they do right here are they are very efficient with ensuring the weigh-off goes quickly + they had some cool features like a giant pumpkin carver, our favorite pear gourds and even a gourd grown in a Frankenstein mold!

There were about 10 entries in the junior division. During his pre-weight interview, Bode estimated his pumpkin as about 300 pounds and it turned out to be….299 pounds which was enough for first place! Just imagine how much it would have weighed if it had kept growing.  It was sad for the boy because he worked hard on his plant this year and hoped to sell it. 

He won tickets to Thanksgiving Point’s Luminara at Christmastime and pumpkin carrying straps (just what every 13-year-old boy wants) and most importantly, bragging rights for his dad.

Not that he needed it.

Jamie’s pumpkin “Uncle Sam”  was measuring between 1,200-1,300 pounds and it would possibly be his heaviest ever (his previous record “Stanley,” was 1,240 pounds). But in pumpkin growing, it’s important to keep your hopes in check because Stanley actually measured much bigger (closer to 1,400 pounds) and went really light on the scale.

Just with the eyeball test, it looked like Uncle Sam was the second largest pumpkin there and when it was Jamie’s turn, I was praying it would just be over 1,200 pounds.

Well, Uncle Sam delivered because he went 8 percent heavy, weighing in at 1,325 pounds, Jamie’s personal best, and was the second largest pumpkin grown in Utah. What a victory! 

And now the fire has been fueled for the elusive first place next year.

The 12th Annual Giant Pumpkin Party!

OK, I may be several months behind writing about my life but one thing cannot be overlooked and that is the giant pumpkin party and weigh-off! It was a doozy of a year. Midway has a shorter growing season than Denver (which already wasn’t ideal), cooler nights and our beautiful view of Deer Creek Reservoir also means we get slammed with winds roaring up Provo Canyon.

Jamie’s solution was to build a government-funded greenhouse and that made all the difference even though there was a pretty steep leaving curve setting the beast up (it took WEEKS), and then came all the ongoing internal work like setting up fogger misting lines, geothermal system and fertigation systems and new growing challenges like too much nitrogen in the soil and a battle with spider mites. It was a  wet and cold spring with late frosts so several growers lost their plants early. We had one plant in the greenhouse and two outdoors and Jamie pulled that plant a couple of months ago while Bode’s pumpkin stopped growing a month and a half ago so his latest efforts have been just to keep it from rotting out. This was a big disappointment for Bode because he was pretty self-motivated to take care of his pumpkin this year as he wanted to sell it.

Speaking of which, the kids are starting an online business of selling giant pumpkin seeds and they will be selling pumpkin starters in the spring. Go check it out and tell your friends! PumpkinsForCollege.com

It has been a gorgeous fall and of course, a big storm was supposed to hit on the day of the pumpkin party. Our basement is still an unfinished eyesore and our small upstairs is not big enough to accommodate the 60+ people who came so we were PRAYING the storm would would hold off and it did…in fact, we were awoken the next morning by a torrential downpour. It was like the destroying angel passed right over us.  🙂

Our backyard is FINALLY almost finished with the exception of the fence, having to redo the edging and the last bit of rock (we have hauled 70+ tons of it the last two summers). Oh, and the trampoline. Don’t mention the trampoline to Jamie. We have spent a lot of time leveling out the back area and building a retaining wall to go around it. He bought a used trampoline (frame, pads, netting) but we needed to replace the trampoline part. And twice, the ones we ordered were too big or too small. We’re just ready to be DONE with it but so the tramp saga continues.

But anyhew, back to the party. Now that we have a much bigger yard, we’ve added some new elements that include Aunt Tammy’s gourmet s’mores bar, cornhole, ladder toss and Monster Bubbles. The spread of pumpkin treats was delicious and we had five crockpots of soup (Ellen’s Thai pumpkin curry was a favorite). The pumpkin party was 6-8 p.m. and the Homecoming football came was at 7 p.m. so we knew we’d lose some people (including our own daughter) but we still had a great turnout and a lot of fun. 

We have had two years when getting the pumpkin out of the patch was complicated. The first was when it RAINED several years back and the forklift kept slipping in the mud and almost tipping with the weight of the pumpkin. The second was this year. Do you remember all that rock? It surrounds our entire half-acre with the express purpose of bringing in heavy machinery to pull the pumpkin out. The problem was Power Equipment Rentals sent a beastly forklift, much bigger than usual, and it was really complicated trying to maneuver it into the greenhouse (a tiki torch and my peach tree were almost victims). But the Pumpkin man also doubles as an expert forklift driver so he did a great job, thanks to the help of our entire village who were guiding him and typing knots with the lifting straps. Here are a few pictures I took.

And then here are few pictures our friend Justin Bowen who works for NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC took.

Minor difference.

So, how much did The Great Pumpkin weigh? Stay tuned! It was Jamie’s heaviest pumpkin yet.

Maybe all that work on the greenhouse and yard were worth it after all.