12 March 2013

A....New Year's Letter...?

Hyello all! (pronounced hyellow…like the color)

This is me typing with a Minnesota accent. I am hoping it is as close as I come to acquiring one.  I would say Merry Christmas! Or Happy New Year!....but I am embarrassingly late for that. So….Happy (insert day of the week)!!

2012 was a DOOZY! Am I right? It brought so many changes to us that we occasionally still look at each other to verify that we’ve remained in reality, and didn’t accidentally step into someone else’s life.

Ches spent the first half of the year working for a company called National DME. They were the middle man between worker’s compensation, and companies who sold durable medical equipment. He had a 60-75 minute commute one way. He was tired of driving, I was tired of seeing so little of him (time and size wise. I didn’t even have time to FEED the poor fellow), and we were both tired of the gas expense. So, the obvious solution to the above problems was for him to get a job for a helicopter company based out of Minnesota. It started as a seasonal summer job, but they asked him to stay. Hence, our cheesy salutation. He is beyond thrilled to be surrounded by helicopters every day. This was the opportunity we have been praying for, and we are incredibly grateful.

I started off the year with my first legitimate teaching job, and the relief of finally being able to tell people I was expecting. We had kept the secret for a LOOOOONG time, and I am positively horrid at secrets.  Plus, I was ready to have an excuse for gaining weight other than cookies.

Teaching was both a rewarding and difficult adventure. There were just less than a handful of times I had to walk suddenly from the room to make sure I didn’t scar any students for life at seeing their teacher spew breakfast. We had some facepalm kind of moment when my students didn’t know things like the fact that WWII was within the lifetime of people who are still living. We were talked about it on veteran’s day, and one girl was astonished that anyone could be that old. “I mean, didn’t that happen in like the 1800’s or something?!” I think I failed at keeping my composure that time. Oops.

I may or may not have told students they would be flogged, but my fire was quickly dampened when they had no idea what that meant. In the end, I felt like I taught them things they would need to know, and I built some great relationships. I miss teaching, but would not trade it for staying home with our little man.

Maverik is a ham. He very early earned the nick name of  “The Gremlin” due to the fact that his breathing is often noisy because of drainage in his little system (Gross. Sorry. I didn’t want to use the words “snot” or “mucus”). Don’t call your child that in public. Strangers will give them pitiful looks as if they are being abused. He is six months old now(I mean nine whaaaat?), and an absolute joy to everyone who gets to spend time with him. He smiles often, has some killer dimples, and inherited being slap happy when extremely tired from his mother. 

I ran out of space! Well, we love you all, and already miss being closer. If you didn’t read the entire letter, that is completely acceptable. We will probably cherish you forever anyway.

                                                                                    Chesley, Karlie, and Maverik D. Lewis

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