Merry Christmas from the Maxfields.
Every year, I tell myself “I’m going to write this card in August and once and for all avoid Lara’s Christmas wrath.” And sure enough, every year, it’s late December, I have procrastinated, and Lara has been withholding food and water until I get it done. Some people are “carrot” motivators. Lara prefers the stick.
Might as well start with Lara and her lifelong quest to take on projects whose only objective must be to drive me insane. Lara decided - for reasons as mysterious to me as the Holy Trinity - to serve as a PTA Co-President at Charlie’s school. This is her second stint as a PTA president, and I guess this go-around she decided to go out with a bang. Before her term was over, her service ended abruptly as the result of a weirdo National PTA undercover informant, high level PTA Gestapo agents helicoptering in from an undisclosed secret base, false and stupid accusations about not filling out some reports correctly, me finding myself in a PTA meeting directing a few choice words toward said agents because when I get angry those words just roll off my tongue like sweet poetry (but which, regrettably, made a few PTA ladies blush), and, as the final coup de grace on Lara’s efforts at public service, getting herself, her co-president, and entire board fired. Yes, you read that correctly. Fired! Did you know that you could be fired by the PTA? Kim Jong Un could learn a thing or two from PTA.
Somewhere in Lara’s secret archives, she discovered a long, typed note from 1984 authored by her life-long friend and current next door neighbor. The best part of this letter is that it specifically instructs Lara to destroy the letter, which, of course, Lara did not do because that’s exactly the kind of instruction that Lara will disobey. Trust me.
Speaking of Lara’s junior high days, Lara has been telling me and the kids through our marriage that she was the champion of the 9th Grade Ping Pong Tournament. Like Homer’s Odyssey, this epic tale has been told about three times a year for 24 years. Well, when Lara told this story to the same life-long friend (whose note Lara “forgot” to destroy), the neighbor had the audacity to refute Lara’s version and claim the victory as her own. And then, to add insult to injury, she actually produced a championship trophy to prove her point! Another piece of Maxfield family lore down the drain.
On any given day, Charlie (don’t call him Charles or he will give you the stink eye), can be found plotting the overthrow of the family management group while running around in his tighty whities. Having watched Disney’s Newsies musical one too many times, Charlie responds to things he opposes with: “STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE,” in a high-pitched, 10 year old boy voice. Dishes need washing? STRIKE! Time to go to bed? ON STRIKE, SHUT ‘EM DOWN - MAXFIELD HOUSE IS A UNION TOWN! Not happy with the autumn leaf gathering pay scale? REV -O - LUTION - THE ONLY SOLUTION!! A few times when Sydney has refused to join in the labor strife, I have half expected Charlie to label her a “SCAB!” (Emma, in contrast, is all too willing to stir up Charlie’s labor strife behind the scenes, but working hard to keep her own hands from getting dirty.) Fortunately, the only pitchfork we own is too heavy for Charlie to wield.
When not Unionizing, Charlie plays “Capture the Girls,” which he describes as “like capture the flag, except you capture girls and you can use any methods you want.” I really have no idea what this means, but, as Matt Lauer can attest, it’s obviously the wrong year to be playing Capture the Girls. He also told me he has dual career goals: engineering and telling jokes for a living. When told those occupations were mutually exclusive - he stated he would be the first and a trillionaire.
When your 21 year old son asks you to pick him up a G String when you are running errands, what exactly is the appropriate response? And when you laugh, because you know he’s talking about a violin string but that he has no clue why the phrase “G String” is so funny, especially coming out of the mouth of an innocent, single, mormon returned missionary, do you explain to him why you are laughing? Lara and I decided that we would not explain it, because the confused look on his face makes it funnier, thereby increasing exponentially our joy as parents.
Sydney is 13, and believes that with the title “teenager,” she is entitled to all of the stereotypical teen methods for dealing with parents: eye rolls, feigning deafness, passive-aggressive communication styles. You know what I mean. The problem with this effort is that we’re no fools. She’s daughter No. 3, for crying out loud. We know every technique in the book. So when she isn’t looking, Lara and I laugh at her futile attempts to go rogue.
This summer, Lara planted about 400 squash plants and elevated Sydney to a garden management position (which, as you would expect, resulted in the blue collar Weeders, Charlie and Emma, howling in protest: STRIKE! STRIKE!). Sydney did so well with her executive gardening skills, we ended up with something like 5,000 squash, many of which secretly ended up hidden in visitors’ cars and on neighbor porches - at Lara’s instigation of course.
Emma, 16, likes to keep us guessing to see if we can track what she’s up to. Take snowshoeing, for example. Lara and I take the kids snowshoeing every Christmas Eve. When we brought up that idea a few weeks ago, exasperated, Emma said “Please no! Nobody likes to go snowshoeing!” Not more than 24 hours later, Lara discovered a reminder note in Emma’s room, penned by Emma herself, that said “Don’t forget money for snowshoeing club.” Deliberate obfuscation.
Based upon my independent observations, Emma’s one goal in life is not to disclose to Lara any information that we might find helpful or interesting on topics as varied as: dating, boys, homework, grades, whether she liked dinner or not. . . Well, basically everything. Dinner conversations often involve Lara’s cross-examination and Emma pretending not to hear or quickly changing the subject. True life example: “Hey, Emma, your cell phone bill has a charge for 13 bucks for a call to Vietnam. Why are you calling Vietnam?” Emma, with vacant look: “ I didn’t call Vietnam. Now, we will quickly change the subject.” If Emma is the captured spy who is unwilling to talk, Lara is the frustrated counter-agent ready to employ enhanced interrogation techniques. Waterboarding coming soon?
Maren, 19, left on a mission to Rome this year, the same place Lara served. Getting Maren ready to leave caused far more shopping brain damage than Stewart. When I took Stewart missionary shopping, we were literally done in ten minutes: shoes, suits, shirts, ties. Done and Done! Maren, in contrast, must have visited 37 different stores and tried on 59 different outfits. She didn’t appreciate that after five weeks of wearing the same clothes, she was going to hate them all.
Speaking of Maren, she is currently parked in Southern Italy and recently performed in a live nativity. Probably because her italian vocabulary is limited to words describing high carb foods, she was given the non-speaking role of “Star.” In her own words: “What did that entail, you might ask? Standing behind everyone, with my arms stretched out. I had flashbacks to the time my dad made Stewart and I have a contest to see who could hold their arms over their head the longest, and afterward I couldn't move my arms. It wasn't quite to that level, but I will say I'm glad I had practice.” (Note: I didn’t “make” them do this contest - they were just so competitive neither would lower their arms before the other, resulting in temporary paralysis.)
While at BYU this past year, Stewart enrolled in an “intermediate” swimming class, thinking the “beginner” class was for people who did not know how to swim. Wrong. The intermediate class was made up of former high school swim team swimmers wearing speedos. Stewart didn’t swim in high school and showed up in knee length beach wear and Charlie’s goggles. When Stewart could only manage a 90 degree kick turn headed down the width of the pool instead of down his lane, the instructor made him perform somersaults on dry land for the rest of the swim class. To re-establish his manhood, Stewart joined an intramural water polo team - they wore floaties.
For the Maxfields, the most important event of 2017 was the marriage of Stewart to Caitlyn this past Fall. Caitlyn is a saint. A month or so before they got married, simultaneously Lara and Caitlyn discovered that Stewart had not changed his clothes for 4 days. Because Caitlyn is a trooper, she took a deep breath and went through with the marriage anyway. Lara, on the other hand, was jumping for joy that somebody else could tell Stew to change his clothes every day. (Stewart, please note that I left out any reference to Mom harassing you this summer about regularly showering and changing your underwear every once in a while. That’s just between us.)
Speaking of weddings, at the end of the reception, Stewart and Caitlyn ran as fast as they could through the “Sparkler Tunnel,” jumped in their heavily decorated car, and raced down the street. About ten minutes later, several of his aunts and uncles on their way home from the reception noticed a car, looking a lot like Stewart’s with a “Just Married” sign, pulled over on I-15 by Highway Patrol. Turns out Stewart was ticketed for driving “at an excessive speed.” For reasons that have remained undisclosed, apparently they were in a hurry to get somewhere. A big hurry. A really big hurry.
