2014: A Year of Surprises

We stopped sending Christmas cards a few years ago. It's not that we don't enjoy receiving them from others, because we do. In fact, we have a nice little Christmas card display thingy that we hang in a prominent place every December. So why did we stop doing them? I'm not sure I have a good answer or excuse, so I won't offer one.

Instead, I offer this "year in review" of sorts. Think of it as our Christmas card in blog form.

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If I had to choose a theme for the Rogers family in 2014, I think it's best described as A Year of Surprises. Some were good -- some not so much -- but in the end, we were constantly on our toes, and found ourselves to be pretty adaptable no matter what life threw at us.

FEBRUARY -- We're Moving (Again)

I suppose it's a good thing we decided to ask.

On a whim in late February, we emailed the property management company for our rental home in Tampa. We wanted to make sure we could re-sign our lease and stay in the home for another year. The family who owned the house was living in South Africa, and as far as we knew (and had been told several times), they wouldn't be returning to the U.S. for at least another year.

Like I said, it's a good thing we asked. 

We received a prompt response that, no, we could not re-sign the lease because the owners would be moving back into the house on July 1.

SURPRISE!

Just 8 months after moving to Tampa, we'd be moving again. Good thing we never got around to unpacking all those boxes.

With Jack headed out of town for three weeks, we had to act quickly. Although finding another rental probably would have made the most sense (we still own our home in Raleigh), I couldn't bear the thought of moving again only to feel "unsettled." So we decided to buy.

Our new home in Tampa

Our real estate agent went into hyperdrive and within 24 hours had lined up six showings in one of our target neighborhoods. The only problem was that, the same day we found out we had to move, I had oral surgery. The surgery in itself was no big deal -- but the reaction I had to the post-op antibiotics? That was ugly.

The accompanying nausea was so bad, in fact, that en route to one of the houses, Jack had to pull over at a busy intersection so I could jump out of the car and puke. Not one of my finer moments.

At each and every house we toured, the story was the same. I would tell our agent and Jack to go ahead of me while I stood in the front yard and threw up.

I just hope none of our new neighbors witnessed it.

MAY -- Two Houses, No Water

For those of you not familiar with Florida's west coast weather, let me acquaint you. The month of May can be hot. May can be sticky. May can be nasty. May in Tampa can remind you of an armpit.

And the weekend we moved into our new house, Tampa was doing its very best imitation of an armpit.

With temperatures and humidity high, so was our stress level. And it didn't help that to save money, we had decided to move everything ourselves -- everything but the very heaviest furniture pieces.

It was slow, arduous work, but we muddled through. By dinner time on the first day of our move weekend, we were making great progress. We stopped to order pizza for dinner, and as I stood in the office and looked out the window adjacent to Jack's desk, I noticed a steady stream of water pouring down the driveway.

Huh.

I raced out to the garage to find the hot water heater spewing water everywhere -- including all over our not-yet-loaded boxes and furniture.

SURPRISE!

Now Jack and I were the ones going into hyperdrive, desperately trying to locate the water shut-off valve. And because it was a rental home and we'd never thought to ask, we had no idea where it was. After 20 minutes or so, we finally found it. But a call to our property manager, and then to their plumber, revealed the earliest the water heater could be replaced was Monday -- if we were lucky.

Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink at our new house.

No big deal, we thought. It's so hot outside we can make do with cold water, we thought. Until we realized that all the faucets in the house were both cold and hot, meaning they didn't work at all.

No water.

Again, no big deal, we thought -- we already closed on our new house. We'll just shower and cook over there. Until we realized the county screwed up and shut off our water instead of transferring it to our account.

So we had two houses but no water. And it was Friday night. There would be no water until Monday.

So how did we get by for the next three days?

Showers at the gym. 

Eating out instead of cooking. 

Dogs drinking Perrier.

Just like we planned it.

JUNE-- Adventures in the Amazon

Although I never finished posting all of my journal entries from our week-long trip to the Peruvian Amazon, it is pretty well documented here on my blog -- both in words and pictures.

Jack with village children in El Chino, Peru

Certainly, the trip to the Amazon was not a surprise -- we booked it the previous October and knew well in advance what we were getting into (sort of).

The SURPRISE! in this case was that we actually went through with it. All four of us.

And we didn't get eaten by a giant anaconda.

Or stung by a bullet ant.

And we not only survived it, but we absolutely loved it.

We joked on the way home from Peru that any family vacation we take in the future will be incredibly boring by comparison -- and it's true.

LJ on the canopy zipline in the Peruvian Amazon jungle.

On how many vacations do you zipline through the a jungle canopy; swim in the Amazon surrounded by pink dolphins; fish for (and then eat) piranha; canoe through nearly impassable river ways surrounded by monkeys, sloths, and tropical birds; and hike through a forest so dense you can't even see the jaguars who are watching you?

A few days ago I asked Julianna to tell me the highlight of her year and she didn't hesitate with her answer.

"Well, duh," she said. "Our trip to Peru."

Duh, indeed.

SEPTEMBER -- The Marriott Miracle

One bonus to living in Tampa is that we have three NFL teams in Florida. That is, of course, if you count our hometown Suckaneers as an actual professional football team. (They are 2-13 as I write this).

As a side note (or rant) ... in the two years we have been Bucs' season-ticket holders, I have seen the team win in our home stadium exactly 1 time. Yes, once. In two years. And that's why we call them the Suckaneers.

Luckily, the not-much-better-than-the-Bucs Jacksonville Jaguars play just 3 hours from where we live. Why is that good? Because they happen to be in the same division as our beloved Indianapolis Colts. And that means, at least once a year, the Colts come to Florida.

LJ at the Colts-Jags game

For the second straight year we bought tickets to the Jags-Colts game. And for the second straight year, we randomly chose a hotel that wasn't too far from the stadium and where we could also use our hotel points and not have to actually pay for the rooms.

When we arrived at the hotel, the place was buzzing. There were lots of people lingering in the lobby. There were temporary black drapes hanging in front of the elevator vestibule. There were security guards sitting near the hallway.

The hotel was so busy, in fact, that we were told there was no way we could get two rooms that connected to each other.

When we pressed for a reason, we were told that the hotel was completely full. There was a wedding happening on site, and there were people in town for the Jags game (like us), and there was also a football team staying at the hotel.

"Which football team," we asked?

"The University of Pennsylvania," the desk clerk said.

I became suspicious. The guys milling around the lobby were way bigger than most college players I knew. And they were certainly a lot bigger than the guys who would play at a Ivy League school like Penn.

These were ginormous, massive human beings. Absolute beasts.

And I was pretty certain that not a single one of them suited up for the mighty Penn Quakers.

Then I noticed a local news guy with a TV camera.

Curious.

Then, some teenage boys asking one of the players to autograph a helmet.

A Colts helmet.

More curious.

Julianna, who was done with all the speculation, decided to take matters into her own hands.

She marched confidently up to one of the players, looked him in the eye, and said, "Excuse me, but do you play for the Indianapolis Colts?"

Julianna and Colts' Head Coach Chuck Pagano

The side of the player's mouth curled into a smirk, and he just nodded his headed up and down slowly.

Julianna stood there, staring at him, mouth agape, and said, "Uh, okay."

SURPRISE!

We had inadvertently chosen the same hotel as the Indianapolis Colts. Who knew they would stay at an unassuming Marriott in an office park just off the highway?

During our brief stay at the hotel, the kids were able to say hello to future Hall of Fame kicker Adam Vinatieri, get a glimpse of Andrew Luck, and even pose for a photo with Head Coach Chuck Pagano.

Oh, and incidentally, the player Julianna questioned in the lobby? That was the starting running back, Trent Richardson.

Best of all, the Colts won big over the Jags, 44-17.

At least a good team plays in Florida once a year.

DECEMBER - Beneath the Surface

In September I had a small spot on my face biopsied. Really, it looked just like a tiny red patch of dry skin on the side of my nose. But the results came back positive for two different types of skin cancer -- basal cell and squamous cell -- and combined they are known as a rare type of cancer called basosquamous.

SURPRISE!

Thanksgiving dinner, pre-surgery

Without going into too much detail, I'll give a quick update of where things stand now. Fortunately, the cancer did not metastasize. And in early December I had two surgeries -- one to remove the cancer, and another to graft skin to fill in the giant hole the cancer left on my face.

The good news is that, although I am probably months away from looking "normal" and going outside without a band-aid over my face, I will be fine.

We've done our best to face this with humor (no pun intended). My Christmas gifts included some fashionable Colts band-aids to cover my wound.

And as LJ so eloquently put it before the surgery, "Mom, this is one time you really DO need a hole in your head."

Touche.

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The events recapped here are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to an eventful year for our family.

There have been plenty of highs, a few lows, and clearly, lots of surprises.

Here's wishing you and your family a wonderful New Year in 2015 -- one filled with love, laughter, and surprises -- but hopefully only the good kind.

A Letter to My Son

As part of a family history project for Jack's 7th grade Language Arts class at Academy at the Lakes, parents were asked to write a letter to their child. If you haven't ever done this for your own child, I strongly encourage it. What a wonderful gift for us both.

Jack, I have so many good memories of you that I hardly know where to start. But how about I start with Halloween night -- October 31, 2003?

You were not quite 3 years old but there was no doubt what you were you going to be that night. Your favorite TV show at the time was Bob the Builder, and I can remember watching it with you every afternoon in the den of our home in Greensboro, N.C.

Of course, you chose to dress up as the man himself, Bob the Builder. This was a man who was in charge, knew how to get things done, and was never too busy to lend a hand to friends and strangers alike.

As the theme song says, “Bob the Builder, can we fix it? Bob the Builder, YES WE CAN!”

Donning your blue jumpsuit and yellow hard hat, and with a hammer by your side, you were ready to conquer anything that came your way while trick-or-treating in our neighborhood, Adam’s Farm.

That Halloween, the street of Old Fox Trail filled with children and their parents as they trick-or-treated up and down the road. With you and Julianna being so young, your Ladybug sister sat in a stroller, and you rode in your green and grey Little Tykes Wagon.

What is most memorable about that night for your dad and me was how, at each house we visited, you eagerly jumped out of the wagon, navigated the steps to the front door, and before even asking your neighbors for candy, boldly declared to them, “I am Bob the Builder. I will fix that for you!”

And then you proceeded to hammer their front porch.

Cute story, I know … but why does this particular one stand out for me?

I think it’s because even at the young age of 3, we were beginning to see the type of young man you would become: straight to the point; caring; a “fixer”; and someone who is always was willing to help out a friend or stranger.

Today, I see those same traits in your willingness to help your sister with her math homework; in your genuine love and concern and for all animals and those people closest to you; and in your ability to help me conquer any technological or engineering task.

You’re my go-to guy -- the one who I know can get things done. I can always count on you to “fix it for me.”

Jack, although you are only 13 years old, I have already collected a lifetime of memories: birthdays and holidays; sports games and chess tournaments; talking football on the ride to school; racing at the annual Woolly Worm Festival in the mountains; riding rollercoasters with you until you are satisfied and I am sick … I cherish every moment -- even the ones where I’m nagging you to get out of bed or put away your laundry.

As I used to tell you when you were 3, I love you more than a million hippopotamuses.

And I can’t wait to remember the rest of what’s to come. 

A Teenager's Lesson for Vince Lombardi

"Winners never quit, and quitters never win." - Vince Lombardi

Vince Lombardi (Photo from Sports Illustrated)

If anybody could speak to being a winner, it was Vince Lombardi.

As the coach of the Green Bay Packers, he won two Super Bowl titles and five NFL championships. And the Hall of Famer never experienced a losing season as an NFL head coach.

But thanks to my 13-year-old son, Lombardi's quote now rings a bit hollow for me. Just a few weeks into his first season of conditioning workouts with the school's football team, LJ quit on his coach and his teammates.

And I support it.

In fact, not only do I support it, I can say that I watched my son mature and grow through the process -- even as he pronounced himself to be a quitter.

First, let me say that I absolutely love LJ's football coach. He's the right blend of tough and tender; cares deeply for his players; and always puts academics first. He holds his players accountable for their actions and choices, and as a parent, that's really all I could ask for.

LJ's issue with football wasn't the coach. And really, it wasn't the football.

It was everything else.

Although LJ just began workouts in January, he was already feeling the pinch on other areas -- wanting to participate in activities like Science Olympiad and chess, while also juggling his regular academic load in school. He arrived home exhausted after workouts, and started to feel the effects in the classroom with forgotten homework assignments and careless mistakes.

LJ wondered aloud how he would possibly manage it all when the "real" season began in August with even longer and more frequent practices, late night travel on game days, and an equally tough course load.

But Jack and I encouraged LJ ... told him his grades were fine (which they were), and that he could do it all if he just put his mind to it and just wanted it enough.

The mantra?

Our children will not be quitters.

Winners never quit, and quitters never win.

LJ kept a positive attitude through it all. He didn't complain about sore muscles. He talked excitedly about being part of the team and "earning" whatever minutes he might get on the field. And he began to develop a deep respect for his coach.

But earlier this week, I found LJ in my office after school, when instead he should have been at football practice.

I asked him why he was in my office, and he said, "Didn't you check your email, Mom? I sent you an email."

Irritated and feeling like I was about to hear some lame excuse, the mantra went through my mind:

My children will not be quitters.

Winners never quit, and quitters never win.

I started in on LJ, but his expression spoke volumes, so I opened my email:

Subject title:  I have Decided to Quit Football

"The stress produced from football far outweighs the benefits. This stress has prevented me from performing my best academically. I'm sorry I have had to make this decision but I am too stressed from football to continue."

And then I looked at LJ, curled up in the armchair in my office, and I simply said: "Okay. You can quit."

Future football dreams ... dashed.

With some cajoling, LJ talked to his coach in person, and gave him the same reasons for leaving the team. To his credit, the coach sensed LJ's anxiety, agreed that academics have to come first, and left the door open for him to join the team in future years.

As we walked back to my office, the relief was tangible. LJ's mood was lighter and he couldn't stop smiling.

Watching your child quit something -- walk away without remorse -- now that's a humbling moment. 

But on the inside, I was smiling too. 

Once again, my child had been way smarter than me. He knew his limits, knew when he'd reached the tipping point, and knew when to quit and be okay with it. In this case, quitting equated to winning. 

At least for LJ.

"Mom," he said, "I feel like half of my brain has just cleared out. I can think again."

Not exactly sure what was in the other half of his brain, but I didn't want to press.

Instead, I just gave him a hug and kept my mouth shut.

The NFL Hall of Fame may not be in LJ's future, but this was most definitely a Hallmark moment.

Super Commericals? My Kids Weigh In

The common marketing logic is that puppies and babies sell. In fact, since the pets.com sock puppet made its debut in 2000, it seems like every other commercial includes a talking animal or a stock-trading baby.

As the Steelers were preparing to handle the Cardinals in Super Bowl XLIII, I was wondering how my kids would rate the commercials ... puppies, babies, and all.

I know that kids under age 10 aren't the target audience, per se, but children look at the world through a different lens. So what do they see when it comes to the big game? What kind of impact do those $100K per second, $3 million, 30-second spots have on America's future spenders?

Thus, I decided to conduct a very, very unscientific experiment with LJ and Julianna. I asked them rate the Super Bowl commercials on a scale from 1 to 10 (10 being the best).

Mind you, this experiment was not without its trials and tribulations. At one point, LJ saw a commercial that disturbed him so much (the Castrol grease monkey chimp kissing the guy), that he declared: "Now that one makes me want to stop watching commercials and only watch the game!"

Nevertheless, we made it through the first half with the kids viewing and rating every single ad.

So, what was the verdict? Which ads did the kids love the most? Below are LJ's and Julianna's ratings.

Note: Only the first half commercials were rated because second half is past their bedtime!

Super Bowl XLIII Commercials
LJ's & Julianna's Top 10

1. Doritos - Crystal Ball
2. E*trade - Talking Baby
3. Pedigree - Crazy Pets
4. Pepsi Max - I'm Good
5. Budweiser - Clydesdales Stick
6. Firestone - Taters
7. Cheetos - Chester the Cheetah
8. Movie Trailer - Land of the Lost
9. Bud Light - Meeting
10. Audi - Chase

You'll notice a theme in my kids' top choices. Their favorites, in every instance, included:

• bodily harm and/or property damage (Doritos; Pepsi Max; Firestone; Land of the Lost; Bud Light; Audi)
  
  OR
  
  
• talking animals/babies (E*trade, Pedigree; Budweiser; Cheetos)

I'm not really sure what all of this means for LJ's and Julianna's future spending habits. But one thing is painfully clear about their tastes in advertising (and my parenting abilities).

My children love to see people get hurt, stuff get blown up, and smart-ass animals and kids.

Now isn't that just super?