joy

19 Years

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June 28, 1997 – We get married!  After a 2 ½ year courtship.

The first year of marriage is traditionally themed “Paper” and this is quite apropos as we work to zero your credit card debt. Most of our income goes to MasterCard and Visa.

In what will become the beginning of a pattern, you help me recover from adversity. I am in a car accident right before the wedding which requires orthoscopic ACL reattachment of my left knee, but you are there for me.

Year 2 = Cotton – 1998 – We walk to the corner market, cook dinner, dance and love life. Cotton symbolizes the intertwining and flexibility a couple has for each other. We learn to give and bend.

2000 – Buy our first house on Mt. Vernon. It has the original electrical from the 1920’s. I can’t toast bread and dry my hair at the same time, but it’s ours, all ours!

Theme: Fruits and Flowers 2001 – Four years of marital bliss!  We take our first trip to Italy together to celebrate John’s 40th.  [We drink lots of delicious “grape juice” and take in all the gorgeous flowers of Italy.]

2002 – Our beloved Josephine Choonja Wipff is born!  Traditional Theme: Wood  – Like the deep roots of an old oak tree. We are a strong family.

2003 – Ava Oksoon Wipff is born!  Traditional Theme: Candy.  Our life is definitely sweet.

 

2006 – moved to AZ, against your wishes. If a marriage has ups and downs, this is our “down.” But we get through it. Theme: Pottery and Willow – Our marriage continues to be the product of our choices and experiences, fired in the “oven of adversity.”

2007 – The girls begin violin lessons with Mrs. Lia Taylor, violin teacher extraordinaire. It’s the beginning of a beautiful relationship. You are starting to like – maybe love? – Arizona’s deserts, natural beauty and space.

 

2010 – I am diagnosed with breast cancer. We are scared. But we weigh the options. I want the cancer OUT! So I opt for a radical bilateral mastectomy. 13 years of marriage and the theme is lace – beautiful, yet strong.

2011 – Ivory – represents fidelity and purity. We have a good taste of the part “for worse” in a marriage by now. And we stick together, help each other through job layoffs and my six surgeries for breast reconstruction. I cry tears of joy (yes, joy!) as I drive to a class to complete my Master’s degree with drains hanging from my chest, under my shirt. I know I am so fortunate to have you…..the girls…this life.

2014 – Furniture is the  is the theme for the 17th year of marriage. Hm. Furniture? We have plenty. We both have the uncanny talent for choosing furniture that is too large for our house.

2015 – Porcelain can be simple or complex. We are decidedly simple. Wrinkles and gray hair are starting to form…our memories are starting to fade. Fortunately, when you say, “Oh, there’s that actress…you know…from that one movie….with that one guy….” I look at the screen and and I completely understand you. See? We no longer need words.

2016 – Our 19th, baby!  Bronze. We shall patina beautifully, my love.

 

 

 

Just You and Me

When Josie was two years old, she slept in a white iron crib.

20140416_164505When I heard her stir, I’d come into the room and sing, “Good morning, my beautiful child!” I’d make up my own lyrics and melody, and she stood there, hands on the rails, lips pouting, curly hair flip flopped about her head. Then she’d lisp, “No thinging! No thinging!” I’d stop singing and carry her out of the crib. She had the Terrible Twos something bad. She threw temper tantrums daily and her jealousy of her newborn sister was immense. Finally, after a week of this, I decided I couldn’t be bossed around by my own toddler. I sang my song and she demanded I stop. This time, I answered, “Josie, it’s morning. I love you and I’m the mommy and you’re the baby and I’m going to sing if I want to and you’re not going to tell me no.” So I resumed singing. She stared at me incredulously. “NO! NO THINGING! NO THINGING!” She started to jump up and down, hands still on the rails. As she came down, her chin hit the rail and she bit her tongue. She cried her little lungs out. “Uh, I will come back later.”  I told her. I felt the Mom Guilt all the time. Poor Josie was left to her own devices while I changed Ava’s diaper, 20140413_145033fed Ava, took naps. I’d have to hand Josie off to her father a lot.

To this day, we rarely spend one on one time together. But today, I offered to go shoe shopping with the girls and Ava wanted to stay home while Josie wanted to go with me. So off we went. She found a red pair of Keds with wide ribbons. We joked around a lot. We laughed and ate chocolate.  We bought a gift for friends who are expecting a baby, a baby carrier that can be worn in the front or as a backpack. I held my babies that same way frequently, enjoying their little bodies laying against mine, while I dusted furniture.

Josie wanted to hold my hand as we walked through the mall, this twelve year old who is now a half inch taller than me. I reveled in it, for I wondered, “At what age will she find it embarrassing to hold my hand?” She wanted nothing more than to just be with me. I’m a lucky mom.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

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Josie and Ava are members of a Symphony.

This is their second year. The Symphony is made up of four divisions, with Division IV being the most junior, and Division I is made up primarily of 8th and 9th graders, the highest level of the Symphony. They hold chair auditions three times a year.

The girls jumped right up to Division III from the beginning and we were all amazed. Since then, with each audition for a new seat, they’ve moved up. I warned them that this is highly unusual, and that they should be prepared for moving down at some point. After all, they’ve observed this happening to many others in the group. This year, they made it to Division II, Violin I, and I told them that this is quite an accomplishment, that they ought to be proud and keep working hard.

The girls auditioned. When I asked how it went, Josie was quite confident that she did well. Ava was less sure, “I messed up on a few measures. But I think I did OK.” It turns out that Josie jumped many seats up. Ava moved down about 15 chairs. This was traumatic for her. This was her first “fail” (although I didn’t see it that way). For a week, she slumped and was sad. She mentioned a viola player who did the same thing: he was 2nd chair and fell to second to last. “Mom, I noticed this boy, he fell many seats and he used to sit really tall. He was proud and now, he has terrible posture. He is always frowning and he doesn’t look like he wants to be there.” I asked her, “And what do you think of that?” “I think it’s sad.” A few weeks passed. “Mom, remember that viola player I told you about?” “Yes.” “Well, I noticed he’s still slumped and depressed. I even wonder if he’ll quit.”  I expected her to tell me how she was going to cheer him up. I thought she would share with me her plan.

“I’ve decided that I don’t deserve to sit where I’m sitting. I messed up in the audition, but I’m better than 22nd chair. I’ve decided that no matter what happens, no matter where I’m sitting, I will sit as if I am sitting where I DESERVE to sit.”

I was blown away. This is something I learned late in life:  Disregard what others think of me and hold my head up high. She’s only ten years old. How did she know this?

“Wow Ava, I am very proud of you. That is amazing that you came up with that on your own.”
“Well, this boy, he’s very good too and he shouldn’t let it affect him this way.”

Yet another life lesson learned through their serious violin practice.