kariskhaos


I Felt Nothing

Every child is unique and different, and every rite of passage a unique experience for the parent and the child. This past weekend Scott and I dropped our second child off at college. John is now a freshman at Seattle University. It was not a tearful goodbye, there were no long hugs, or emotional anything really. He said his signature “See ya” and we left knowing we won’t see him again till November.

I felt nothing, which if you know me, is very unusual. I did not feel sad, I did not feel pulled, or torn for his youth, or wonder if he would be all-right. I left, and in a small part of my heart I felt relief. Mothers are not really supposed to feel this way, your child, whom you have raised in most cases since birth, and in my case since John was five, are supposed to feel torn, sad, like a part of them has moved on and though excited for them, there is this sense of loss- at least that is how I felt when I dropped off Isaac last year. With John it was a non emotional relief.

disc2 340The thirteen plus years that have led to this parting have been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. The joy of expanding our family by adoption, the thrill of meeting John and Christian for the first time that April day in the slums of Liberia. The elation of coming off the plane to be greeted by 50 of our family and friends welcoming this new beginning for them and for us. The adjustment for all six of us as we settled in Bend. The devastation of finding out John had glaucoma, the hundreds of dr. appointments, surgeries, research, and grief as we realized the world we had dreamed of giving our son would be altered drastically.

John’s amazing determination, stubbornness, never quit, never compromise, never let them know you are different attitude was admirable, and in many ways a true miracle. He was legally blind, he rode a bike, played basketball, football, and learned in both braille and print. He is an intelligent, sarcastic, quiet, young man. To many he is a poster child for facing adversity. At home, with Scott and me it has been a different story.

They say the safest people will be treated the worst and that has been truer than true in our family. As Scott and I tried our best to raise these four beautiful children,(none of them, or us being perfect) was not easy. John’s betrayal of being given away by his birth mother, his frustration and denial at his lack of vision, his post traumatic stress, his attachment disorder created a very angry, sullen, volatile child. The best way I can describe it was living with a volcano, never quite knowing when and where it would erupt, but knowing it would.

Counselors, friends, pastors, family supported us and comforted me each time. The heartbreak of knowing you could not change the situation, I could not give John my eyes, and I could not break through his wall guarding his heart from further pain, was at times debilitating. The tears I have cried for him, and because of him would fill a small lake. Bitter tears, angry tears, helpless tears, tears of joy, elation and pride for his many accomplishments despite the odds.

Finally this Spring, tears of release, tears of grief for a relationship that will never be what I had dreamed, and tears of resignation. I came to the point where I had to let go and move on. John has never said “I love you,” never calls me mom, speaks mostly when spoken to and tries to live his life in our home like a guest. I let go of my search to find the answers by reading the right book, finding the right language to love him, the right advice to reach him, a new way to approach his heart. I let go of the need for my self esteem and value as a person and a mother to be defined by his actions, and indifference. I came to the freeing conclusion that I have done everything I could possibly do. John has been raised in a loving home, had opportunities many kids dream of, was graduating from high school with honors and his life long dream of being independent from Scott and me has come true.

It has been a very long road. John is a terrific young man with a bright future. John is now a freshman at Seattle University. It was not a tearful goodbye, there were no long hugs, or emotional anything really. He said his signature “See ya” and we left knowing we won’t see him again till November. I left, and in a small part of my heart, I felt relief, and it was ok.

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Bend Senior High Football: More Than a Game

My daughter Jessica is now a junior in high school, in eighth grade she was kicker for the junior high football team.  Now she kicks for the JV football team with hopes to be the Varsity kicker her senior year. She is 17-17 in extra points and has two touchdown saving tackles.  Her nick name given by the coach is “perfect”. She wrote the following essay for her writing 121 class is allowing me to share it with you.  I love that girl and am so proud of her choices.

Bend Senior High Football: More Than a Game

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The bus rolls to a stop in front of the dreary Marist High School in Eugene, Oregon. Behind the cracked and faded paint, worn away by the constant rain, stands a football field. The vibrant, lively green stands out against the white and black buildings, which happen to be the Marist High School colors. I gather my scattered items, displaced after the three-hour bus ride, and file off the bus with the rest of the team. Lacking clear direction, we congregate near the sidewalk, lost sheep without a shepard to guide us

“Boys, follow me.” Coach Brown’s voice reaches us through the fog. There is a rustle of air as all 30 boys, and the other Bend Senior High coaches, start to walk at the same time towards the voice. Silence settles over the players, just like the layer of mist as they march towards the locker room. Dressing and preparing for the game happens in a hurried manner, and when everyone is done, Coach Brown poses one question to the team. “Why do we play football?” Then, he promptly exits the locker room, clearly expecting us to follow in his wake.

As I stumble out, the rest of the team by my side, my mind is preoccupied with the question. I don’t notice the click of cleats on concrete, the mist which instantly soaks deep into the bones of every person, or the small crowd gathered on the rickety visitor bench. My mind is deep in thought, contemplating what my answer would be. For many people who don’t have first hand knowledge of playing football, the answer may be clear based on preconceived ideas about the sport. Football has earned a bad reputation from all different levels, starting at the pro level, and working all the way down through high school. Professional football is often associated with scandals, money, and hard hits. College football can give the appearance of dumb jocks who receive special treatment, for instance, lower standards to be accepted to the college. Collegiate players then receive full ride scholarships, and still complain about not being “paid”. High School Football is often seen as a popularity tool, a team of dumb boys, and a method of entertainment on Friday night. People with these preconceived notions may quickly be able to jump to a conclusion to answer the question, I however cannot. 

“We’ve prepared for this”…“This is our time”… “Hit hard, go hard”. I am brought back to reality by the snippets of conversation I hear. The words ring out, a call for greatness from each and every player. Like a pack of wolves, chasing their prey, the team sprints to the sidelines, ready to play. The mist picks up to a flat-out rain, leaving all on the field as wet as if they were in an actual shower. As we take the field for the first time that night, our crisp white jerseys, and white pants, contrasted with the glinting, gleaming blue helmets, shine bright despite the rain, our armor as we ride into battle. The whistle blows, and I, along with the rest of the team, start running towards the Marist football team, a carefully synchronized and practiced art of kickoff. My foot solidly connects with the ball, letting out a thwack as it sails in the air to the other team. Seemingly in slow motion, a white helmet of the Marist team scoops up the ball, and begins to return the kick. I watch in slow motion as the white helmets makes it past not just one, two, three guys, but the entire team. Suddenly, as if the slow motion clock was turned to fast forward, the white helmet is in front of me; I am the only thing standing between him and a touchdown. 

Now might be a convenient time to mention I am a girl, playing on a high school boy’s junior varsity football team. Like any of the boys would do, I solidly plant my feet, and take the hit. As I stand and dust myself off, my mind registers the roar of the crowd, so loud, one might believe we just won the world championship. The boys, also known as my teammates, stand stunned for a second or two, then proceed to attack me, jumping, hitting, and punching me, in other words, their way of celebrating. I look down at my once white jersey, which is now covered in mud so much so that one would never guess the jersey was originally white, and think to myself, “This is why I play football.” Forgetting what everyone else believes is the culture of football, I realize why I play. The determination, seen in the pre-game cheer, the will power to do what the other team cannot, the desire for greatness, kinship, and empowerment that one receives, this is why I play football.

A shrill whistle cuts across the field, signaling halftime. Soaking wet, and cold, yet totally excited from the first half results of the game, the boys and I stride into the locker room. As we sprawl out, draping ourselves across various benches and seats, Coach Brown walks up to some of the players talking and checking in with them. A few of the other coaches are talking to players, giving valuable advice, and others still are in a corner talking to each other. Brown walks by every player, sometimes commenting, giving a compliment, or just a touch on the shoulder. When done with this, Brown once again poses the question, “Why do we play football?” I glance around the room, and every single eye is on him. No one talks, whispers, or moves. He has captured our attention. In this moment, I see Coach Brown in a new light, no longer Coach Brown, but Father Brown. He is a dad to each and every player in the Bend High football program. He talks, comforts, teaches, helps, and also poses the difficult questions. Continuing with this thinking, the boys on the team are all brothers, they sweat together, change together, win together, lose together. The other coaches are uncles, providing good tidbits of information, and supporting the role of Father Brown in raising us into a proper football program. In the middle of this family analogy is me, the single sister. While I am off in space thinking about the question of why, and the new realization I just came to, Coach Brown has moved on, and is talking about the game. “We need to protect Jessie, she is our kicker, we need her, she should not have to save the touchdown with a tackle.” This plays right into the idea of me being the sister, protected by the brothers and dad. As Brown wraps up his halftime talk, and we once again prepare to take the field, I find another answer to the question of why. I play for family, the family I found in the team. 

As one pack, we storm the field, ready to play for 2 more quarters. The second half of the game rushes by, filled with pouring rain, clashing helmets, and the occasional touchdown on our part. The final whistle is blown, and the game is over. Tired, yet excited about the win, the boys and I pile onto the bus, dripping with rain water, and sweat from a job well done. As we sit on the bus, patiently preparing for the long drive home, Coach Brown comes on the bus, and says proudly, “I think you have figured out why we play football, for the feeling that each of you feel right now.” Despite the cold, wet, miserable temperature, I feel a warm glow deep inside my body. The feeling of hope, determination, tenacity, discipline, and self-empowerment provide this fire inside me. Football gives life light, warmth, meaning, in other words, football provides a reason to live. 

The bus slowly begins to pull away from the droopy, worn down buildings that make up Marist  high school. A boy on the team, leans over to me and says, “Feels pretty good, right?” I only nod my head, but in my mind, there is so much I want to say. I think about the culture, family and personal gain that comes from football, and believe that every person should have the opportunity to experience something like this. I turn my head back to the boy, and say, “Football really is more than just a game.”

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A week, a lifetime, a future

It is Sunday, Isaac has been off work for two weeks, we leave for Cal Polly SLO in six days, and he says to me “Hey mom would you be able to get a dental cleaning appointment for me this week?  Oh and I need a hair cut.”  Really?  I manage to get him an appointment for the cleaning and the morning of his appointment he comes out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and comments to me about how he thinks it is going to be a rough visit because his mouth is bleeding.  I casually smile and say well that’s how it usually is when you don’t floss, and then finally do it the day of your appointment. He looks at me with his typical sheepish grin, and then says the words a parent never wants to hear from their 18-year-old child who is leaving for college in a few days, “Its not from flossing mom, they are bleeding from me brushing them.  I kinda got out of the habit of brushing my teeth.”

I am totally mortified. I am speechless.  I have failed in a rudimentary way as a parent and mom. What exactly do you say to that? This boy is going to college?

It is now Thursday and his friend Troy is over to say goodbye.  Boys are really awkward with goodbyes.  A quick hug, a fist pump, a joke about being non-emotional and off he goes to get his haircut.  He packs the rental Saturday with the help of his dad.  Tetrus like engineering to fit all his stuff and still leave room for me, my sister and his lanky body to almost fit as we make our 12 hour car ride to San Luis Obispo.  A tearful goodbye from his dad and sister at 7:00am Sunday morning(the brothers said goodbye last night, no need to get up early) and our adventure to his future begins.IMG_0426

We arrive with no problems, find our hotel and talk about the morning move in.  I have all the paperwork, the parking permit printed and the do’s and don’ts memorized.  I am trying to talk to him about logistics, what time we want to get there, meeting his roommates etc.  Isaac calmly says to me “Mom, I want to sleep in till 11:00, I am going to be there 4 years, there is no rush.”  Really? what about your mom and her panic and need to get there and fix things and know that you are going to be okay, what if you need more things, or we forget something, what if there is an apocalypse and you never get to see your dorm room? Really? You will be able to sleep in on the day your new life of college and future as you know it begins?

Monday I am up early, my stomach hurts, I am a nervous wreck.  Isaac sleeps.  My sister and I get up, get dressed, and go to have breakfast so that I do not jump on my boy and wake him up because of my nerves.  I drink coffee, look at the beautiful view and pray for time to move faster and stop all at the same time.  I so wish my husband could be here.  He is coping about as well as I am but has to do his from a distance.  He loses his glasses and spends an hour looking for them before going to work late with his prescription sun glasses instead.

My sister tries to keep me occupied as the minutes creep by.  I breathe in, I breathe out.  I think of him when he was born, I think of his first steps and first words.  I groan as I think of the sarcastic, laid back, man-child he has become.  Can I get him up yet? We go back to the room at 10:00.  I jump on his bed and hold him tight.  Isaac asks what time it is, and when I tell him, he groans and growls at me.  I ignore him.  I look over and notice my bed has been made.  My sister and I look at each other oddly.  How did that happen? We ask Isaac.  He mumbles something about the maid coming in, not knowing he was still in bed.  She started on our bed and threw some pillows on him.  When she turned to get them, she realized Isaac was there, gave a quick start, apologized and left.  Only Isaac I think to myself.

It is now Tuesday afternoon, he is moved in, we have been to orientation, I have bought my Cal Poly Mom sticker and Isaac is off with his roommate and new friends getting their cards for the athletic center.  I want to take a nap because I am emotionally, and physically exhausted but I don’t think Isaac would appreciate his mom crawling up on his bunk and sleeping, instead I decide to write him my good-bye letter.  IMG_1258

Isaac,

You are off with Cole being a college boy as I sit in your dorm room.  You have tolerated very well my comings and goings, my nervous over reactions and my extra affection.  Thank you.

So often I have thought what I might want to say to you at this moment.  Flash backs of your childhood, your buck teeth, your high school years and your laid back, goofy smile.  I do not have any advice.  I do not have any real concerns about you here.  It is a perfect fit- you will do well, thrive.  Spread your long wing span and fly.

You know all the other stuff but maybe you need it in print to be able to look back at.

  1. You are Loved – No matter what – Change schools, change majors, change sexual orientation, change anything  knowing you are loved.
  2. We trust you – Make decisions, make mistakes, fall on your face and get back up.  We trust you.  You know how to make good choices, make them freely.
  3. I am ALWAYS your MOM – I will always worry a bit, I will ask too many questions, I will ‘baby’ you about food, rest, water, girls- it is just who I am, but I will try really hard to limit my vocal worry to when you are not with your college friends.
  4. Remember who you are and Whose you are – You Isaac are a child of God, beautifully and wonderfully made.  It matters not what you claim to believe right now, only that you know you are not an accident.  You are here for a purpose.  Find that purpose and live a life worthy of your uniqueness.
  5. Laugh every day – Find joy in the small things.  When it is hard and you are stressed out and life really sucks remember a corny joke your dad told.  Remember Gus and how he dances with you and will be so excited to see you.  Watch a stupid, crass, no redeeming value movie or an episode of Tosh.O. Laughter heals, laughter calms, laugh to survive

I will miss you, I do already.  There is a spot in my heart that is Isaac shaped.  It formed when you were conceived and will be with me till I die.  It has to adjust and change to not having a daily interaction with you, it will feel empty but it will adjust-it will not diminish, it will not be forgotten, it will be different.

I love you Isaac Scott Johnson, MOM

Its Friday, he has been sleeping in his dorm for three nights. I am home getting ready to go to two football games, help with a basketball fundraiser and work at the shop. I have heard from him in one word texts.  He likes his roommates.  He is brushing his teeth. It is enough.

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“Its not because I am black, its because I am a Johnson”

It is early in December, The basketball season is just beginning for my son Christian. He is a sophomore and is on the varsity team. As with most teenage boys, common sense is often out weighed by immediate desire. Immediate desire for Christian is almost always focused around food and sports.

At the high school he attends juniors and seniors are allowed off campus for lunch, freshman and sophomores are not. Most of his friends are juniors and can drive. On game days I have allowed him to come home with his brother and a couple of friends for lunch. Now in Christian’s mind I have just given him permission to go off campus to have lunch, in my mind I am avoiding him getting in trouble, giving him a home-made lunch on game days, and getting a chance to hang with his friends.

A couple of days later I get an email from his basketball class teacher (who happens to be my daughter Jessica’s JV basketball coach) informing me CJ was a half hour late for class because he went off campus for lunch and was late getting back. This was not the first time this had happened but because he was so late she questioned him further and he admitted to golifetouch_20120930113701ing off campus. She was letting the administration,and his coaches know of his rule infraction.

I calmly (read unbelief, anger, incredulous, sympathy, frustration) wait for Christian to come home from school. I ask how his day was and if he wants to tell me anything. He looks up at me, reads my body language and shrugs, “No not really. Did I do something wrong?” I bring him to the computer and show him the e-mail. He again shrugs, this is clearly not a big deal to him. “Christian, do you realize that the you broke school rules, could get suspended from school, and get benched from playing a game?” Now I have his attention.

Christian than babbled about how everybody does it mom, and its a stupid rule and I was not that late, and she over reacted and exaggerated the time and how many times I have been late. “Christian did you or did you not go off campus for lunch? Head nod, “Were you late for class because you went off campus for lunch?” Head nod. “Did you break a school rule?” Now I get a tirade of how nobody follows that rule, if he had not been late no one would ever have noticed, Nobody cares, mom seriously no body cares. As my blood pressure rises with his lack of concern, I not so calmly say “Somebody cares Christian, because I got an email and now you will be hearing from the principal.”

The next day I get a call from the vice principal and a friend of our family. So I have Christian in my office… he will have a in school suspension, his coaches will be notified and if he goes off campus again he will be suspended from school for two days. He informs me that Christian is a good kid, they love having him at school, kids are kids and if he is going to get in trouble this was the best way to do it. He thanks me and my husband for our continued involvement in the school, and knows he will not have any more problems with Christian in the future.
Christian comes home from school not contrite, but still adamant that the rule is dumb and he was un fairly singled out. Scott and I have now had enough of his denial of wrong doing. We want him to own up and take responsibility, so I try a different tack. “Hey Christian, who did you go out with to lunch?” Jaylin, Steffan and JJ, I am informed. Two of which are juniors and another sophomore on the basketball team. Now where we live is not exactly ethnically diverse. We can count the black, mixed race and Asians on two hands. Jaylin and Steffan are half black and JJ is half Asian. Christian is African, not African-American but very dark black beautiful African. I say well it must be a racial issue Christian. I will go to the principal and claim racial profiling and then… Christian’s face is mortified, he stares at me in un-belief. “MOM, it is not because I am black that I got caught it is because I am a ‘Johnson’.”

All I could respond with was laughter. Gee Christian, so sorry that you’re a part of a family that is involved in your school, and surrounded by people who are watching out for you and care about you. It’s tough being a Johnson, but I am really glad you are.135



Really??
August 23, 2012, 10:22 am
Filed under: humor, love, Parenting, Teenagers | Tags: , , ,

Did you really just say that? These are the words out of my mouth and in my mind over and over again. I know that he is bright, I know he likes to lure me into his antics to get a reaction, I know he thinks he is funny and clever. I know these things, and still I ask, did he really just say that? Isaac is trying harder than ever to prove the theory of why animals eat their young. I texted a few friends over the last few weeks asking if they would come visit me in jail after I suffocated him in his sleep. Maybe Scott could be a jail chaplain instead of a hospital chaplain. Sarcasm continues to be my survival technique, and I have needed it.

We have just gotten back from close to a month of non stop togetherness. On the island we have every meal together, and do not have much time alone. I love it, it is the epitome of family time. Still, when we get back we all need a bit of our own space. Jessie, John and Christian have soccer and football workouts. Isaac has nothing. Jessie and John actually have summer homework to get done. Isaac has nothing. When Isaac has nothing we are all in trouble.

I have been working quite a bit at the boutique my friend owns. I usually work afternoons into the evening. A couple of weeks ago, a few days after we had been home, Isaac called me at work. Our policy is to text unless it is an emergency. Isaac’s cell phone screen is cracked(for the third time) so he can not read his texts. He calls me at 6:30pm and asks what is for dinner. This is an emergency? I tell him it is FFY which in our family means “fend for yourself”. I hang up. Five minutes later he calls again, “Mom, in the future if it’s going to be FFY can you please give me more advance notice?” Did you really just say that?

I get home and find Isaac at the kitchen counter eating cereal. I smile and say; Isaac, on Tuesday I will be going to Eugene to be with your dad. It will be a FFY night. Without skipping a beat, he says “Mom, that’s so far away can you tell me when it’s a bit closer?”



Saturday Story Time: a love from the distance

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Saturday Story Time:

I wandered through the gardens, meandering through the quilts and flowers. A quilt show of over two hundred quilts artistically placed throughout the Japanese Garden’s. I came by myself as the kids were not interested. I was happy to be alone, needed the space and the quiet. My mind was scattered and I was struggling to find my peace. I was in my favorite place, it was a beautiful day and I had even had my lemon tarts this morning. I sat down in the sun, on a bench in the garden,and searched my heart for the source of my discontent.

The answer came fast and sure like a splash of ice-cold water. I miss my husband. It has been two weeks without seeing him. Spotty Internet connections have made it difficult to Skype and texting is wonderful but not quite the same. It is said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and this year has been a testament to the truth of that. We have chosen a life that puts us away from each other for most weekdays. Scott spends his weekdays working in Eugene, so the kids and I can stay at our home in Bend. It has been a sacrifice for all of us, but certainly the hardest for him.

When I am at home, in my routine, and busy with the life we lead in sports, jobs, and the chaos of four teenagers it seems a bit easier to be away from Scott. It is never easy and we both hate it, but time goes by quickly during the week. Now being here on the island, with time and stress on the slow side, my heart feels his absence in new ways. There is so much I want to share with him, so many little moments when I look up to catch his eye and realize he is not there. I reach for him at night and get a moan of surprise from my daughter.

This island holds amazing memories for the two of us. Scott has fallen in love with it as much as me, and together we have explored the beaches, water ways, and hikes as a couple, a family of three, four and six. We bought our canoe, arrived by boat, ferry and hopefully someday by sea plane. It is here we have dreamed together, walked together, and swam in the cold waters with eagles soaring over our heads. The island is my true north but the compass is useless without the magnetic force, my husband.

Sometimes just naming the issue is comforting. I text Scott, let him know my heart is hurting for his presence and remind us both it is just one more week. I get up from the bench and once again engage fully with my island. It truly is a beautiful day and I am loved. What a blessed woman I am.

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Fill in the blank Friday Johnson style: Food

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Fill in the blank Friday Johnson style: Food

Favorite breakfast food:

Isaac: French Toast with hash browns
John: Fried eggs and bacon
CJ: Scrambled egg and bacon burrito
Jessie: French Toast with bacon
Mom: Egg Benedict

Favorite restaurant for breakfast:

Isaac: El Farro in Ixtapa, Mexico
John: Pilot Butte Drive In,Bend OR
CJ: Pilot Butte Drive In, Bend OR
Jessie: Pilot Butte Drive In, Bend OR
Kari: Victorian Cafe, Bend OR

Favorite fast food restaurant for breakfast:

Isaac: McDonalds
John: McDonalds
CJ: McDonalds
Jessie: Subway
Kari: McDonalds

Favorite take-out breakfast:

Isaac: Rockin’ Dave’s Bagels, Bend OR
John: Safeway
CJ: Krispy Kreme
Jessie: Farmer’s Market on Mayne Island, Canada
Kari: Sunny Mayne Bakery on Mayne Island, Canada

Favorite lunch food:

Isaac: Quesadilla
John: Ham and Cheese sandwich
CJ: Pizza
Jessie: Chinese Chicken Salad
Kari: Grilled cheese and tomato soup

Favorite restaurant for lunch:

Isaac: Chans
John: Pilot Butte Drive In
Cj: Red Robin
Jessie: Red Robin
Kari: Soba Noodles

Favorite fast food restaurant for lunch:

Isaac: Taco Bell
John: Taco Bell
CJ: Subway
Jessie: In-N-Out
Kari: Burgerville

Favorite take-out lunch:

Isaac: Tai on the Fly, Bend OR
John: Panda Express
CJ: New York Sub
Jessie: Jamba Juice
Kari: Tai on the Fly, Bend OR

Favorite dinner food:

Isaac: Lasagna and Caesar Salad and fresh bread
John: Baby Back Ribs
CJ: Burgers
Jessie: French Dip
Kari: Anything I don’t have to make, except broccoli

Favorite restaurant for dinner:

Isaac: Frank’s in Ixtapa, Mexico
John: TGIF
CJ: Springwater Lodge on Mayne Island, Canada
Jessie:
Kari: PF Changs

Favorite fast food restaurant for dinner:

Isaac: Dairy Queen
John: Taco Bell
CJ: Wendy’s
Jessie: Burgerville
Kari: In-N-Out

Favorite take-out for dinner:

Isaac: Long Board Louis’
John: Papa Murphy’s
CJ: Papa Murphy’s
Jessie: Pizza Mondo
Kari: Cebelli’s

Favorite family cooked meals:

Isaac:
Breakfast: Grandpa Darrell’s pancakes
Lunch: Mom’s quesadillas
Dinner: Grandma Ellen and Grandpa Gale’s holiday dinner
Dessert: Jessie’s strawberry shortcake

John:
Breakfast: Grandpa Gale’s eggs
Lunch: Isaac’s Nachos
Dinner: Grandpa Gale’s enchiladas
Dessert: Mom’s brownies

CJ:
Breakfast: Grandpa Darrell’s pancakes and eggs
Lunch: Mom’s sandwiches
Dinner: Mom’s BBQ drumsticks
Dessert: Mom’s strawberry shortcake

Jessie:
Breakfast: Aunt Diane’s sticky buns
Lunch: Mom’s turkey soup
Dinner: Mom’s chicken enchiladas
Dessert: Grandma Ellen’s Ginger Cookies

Kari:
Breakfast: Grandpa Darrell’s pancakes
Lunch: CJ’s burgers
Dinner: Scott’s fresh caught fish
Dessert: Johnson’s Almond Roca

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