Dear Matteo, 46 Months Old

This in-between-houses phase isn’t so bad afterall.

We are crashing for a couple weeks with Grams in Palm Desert. It’s sort of like an extended vacation. Of course, Grams is so happy to be temporary roomates and witness all of your constant enthusiasm and energy. You’re getting some of that energy out in the pool every day, 4-6 hours to be exact. You’ve got that sensitive Mottola skin, so while you tan really well (pigment courtesy of Mom), your skin gets really dry. There have been a few big scream sessions when Mom puts the wrong lotion on you at night. Yikes.

All that time in the water is paying off in swimming confidence. We started you in a lifejacket the first few days but have left them behind as you’ve progressed. You can swim with head above water in a doggy paddle about 1/3 the length of the pool. That’s great and mostly checks off “survival swimming.” You’ve tested out goggles but are still unwilling to put your head underwater to swim. That will be your next breakthrough. In contrast, Eliza has a goggle mask and spends most of her time swimming underwater. That mental limitation doesn’t bother you as you’re happy enough paddling around with a big cheesy grin that everyone can see.

I bet you’re enjoying some new strength when you swim. You’re still a really tall and strong kid for your age. We met a couple kids at Joshua Tree Visitor’s Center who were exactly the same age as you and Eliza. The boy was a little older but you had him by at least 4 inches in height. Not just visibly growing, you’ve had a vocabulary explosion of multisyllabic words. You’ll say “Here’s the situation” to introduce a topic. You describe animals at the zoo as “incredible.” You’re pretty incredible, too, kid.

We still have half a week here in the desert and we’ll survive by some combination of suntan lotion, popsicles, naps and palomas (for Mom and Dad). This is the good life.

Love,
Dad

Dear Eliza, 66 Months Old

We’ve had a busy last few weeks that started with finally getting on an airplane again. You inherited my excitement for air travel and counted down the days like I did. You also counted down the takeoff from 10 down 1 about 28 times over on the plane before we actually took off. You are very good at counting backwards, just not knowing when to time your start.

We flew to Indiana for a long overdue visit (Thanks a lot, COVID) to see Grammie and Popa. We flew in and out of Indianapolis with original plans to spend a night or two there and explore the city. We decided best to just get to Fort Wayne but enjoyed the scenic route by road that included a pit stop at Ivanhoes diner near evangelical Taylor University, in Upland, Indiana. That diner had 100 different ice cream sundae and milkshake options! It was tough for all of us to focus on dinner before dessert, but I have to say they had a great tenderloin sandwich, too. It’s all so deliciously Midwest.

This was an important visit not just because of the lapsed time but because of the tough battle Grammie has with a type of lung cancer. Our visit was so important to give her a little boost near the end of her radiation and chemotherapy treatment. Your Grammie is one tough cookie going through this 10 years after a first cancer treatment. Grammie definitely looked different from the last time we saw her. Her head was shaved, though she often wore a hat, and her skin looked dark and tan as some reaction to the treatment. We said she looked like she just got back from Mexico, not chemo.

Grammie was tired and slept a lot through the day, but you and your brother kept spirits high and entertained us with your hummingbird energy. I also appreciated how, despite the time and distance, you both quickly got back into a comfortable groove with Grammie and Popa, just being your silly selves. The copious amounts of candy between visits to the Grabill stores and a front yard Easter egg hunt didn’t hurt.

It took a litlle longer for you to warm up to your Uncle Ty, Aunt Amber, Abby and soaring-tall Mason. Eventually you wanted to spend a lot of time with Abby. No kid can resist a super cool high school-aged cousin. You two spent a lot of the day building a miniture village out of yard plants.

I am also thankful that Grammie and Popa watched you two so Mom and I could take some long runs and walks on the flat, endless Indiana farm roads. There is something pretty special about that place, or it’s just special to me because that’s where your Mom grew up.

We also got to see your two great-grandmothers, Barbara and Chicken. Because we don’t video call them or see them as much as you do Grammie and Popa, you were a lot more shy around them. Again, I appreciated you “acting like a big kid” by answering questions and taking some photos with them. These are important meetings with great-grandparents who get to enjoy knowing you are part of their legacy and have a lifetime of perspective for where you came from and what may be ahead. We’re all part of the same line.

I remember a couple of instances seeing my Nonno Enzo later in his life and still early in mine. We didn’t have a close relationsihp due to the infrequency but I could tell the meetings were really important to my parents, and I answered questions about school and soccer and took photos. While those felt a little bit like forced fun at the time, I can also see the importance of those connections looking back, simply because generations always stretch too far away too quickly by time and space.

After our visits and goodbyes, we flew home and got back into our routine between the sold Tacoma house and condo layover. Your Mom and I grinded the last of our moves out of the house and into a storage unit, constantly reminding ourselves that we should never move again. We left you and Matteo to Grandma Vicki for some combinatin of days so we could get it done. You’ll be helpful movers in another decade, just not this one.

To change scenery again, we spent the last few days at Bridger and Bennett’s house while they are on a family vacation in Hawaii. You two are getting a kick out of playing with all of their toys in their very large house and yard, including a big trampoline. Aunt Courtney also has the house overloaded with candy that no Mottola at any age can ever resist. You walked into the room I was working in yesterday with a sketch of Matteo dashing upstairs with stolen candy. It’s as if you’re a courtroom illustrator documenting the series of testimony in near real time. Or that’s just a really creative way to tattle.

I don’t mind the sugar overload. We are pretty flexible famiy and you are “go with the flow” kids but these weeks and months of transition simply aren’t easy all the time. We aren’t meant to float around. We’re meant to be rooted and grow. Being less than a couple miles a way from our next house, I see our ability to get rooted again literally around the corner. Then it’s back to protein and vegetable diets. Enjoy the candy surplus while it lasts.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 45 Months Old

I got to witness your first F bomb at the ripe age of 3 and a half. It was epic and memorable for so many reasons.

We were halfway through a ski day, riding up the Discovery Chair together at Crystal Mountain. The lift runs parallel to a small jump park and provides some entertainment on the ride up as novice skiers and snowboarders throw small tricks and, more often than not, crash.

We saw one snowboarder land a 360 spin off a jump and yell “Fuck yeah!” in bro-ish celebration.

“That guy said, ‘Fuck yeah,” you turned and told me, in curious reaction.

Yep, he said “Huck yeah,” I replied, in parental overcorrection and appropriately inspired by the Matchstick Productions ski film of the same family-friendly name.

“No, he said ‘Fuck yeah.’ Like Ffff,” you rebutted. “What does that mean?”

“Well, you have your helmet on so it’s hard to hear,” I said. “So anyway, he said ‘Huck yeah’ and it means totally awesome!”

You finally relented: “Huck yeah. Awesome! Huck yeah.”

That was a special father-son bonding experience.

What has me saying “What the huck” recently is your silly, primal tendency to hide and eat snacks.

I know your metabolism is off the charts, but on top of the 2,000 calories you eat a day in front of us, you have gotten into the habit of stealing “mommy bars” (Larabars), Clif Kids bars and any form of candy from cabinets, purses and backpacks and eat them in hiding for an extra 500 to 1,000 calories. We only find the wrappers as evidence.

I understand why you take them. You get hangry before any meal time and can’t wait long enough for cooked food. You let us know about your hunger by grumpy comments and wildly swinging arms and legs, before your snack espionage. Of course, that snack appetizer makes you a poor eater at mealtimes, causing you to be hungry again later and continuing the virtuous cycle of snacking.

This is all about timing, and we’ll get your body clock calibrated for normal meals soon enough. Until then, huck it. Enjoy your snacks.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 65 Months Old

One of my favorite books is The Giving Tree. It's about a tree that gives and gives at every life stage of a boy's life until there's nothing left of the tree but a stump for an old man to sit on.

A house is like a tree. You take a lot from it. You learn a lot from it. It outlasts you.

The first home that your Mom and I owned was at 1002 North Oakes in Tacoma. So help me God, I hope whenever you read this letter, that house isn't torn down and turned into a multi-unit. I’d rather it be a stump.

The house was built by Canadian Henry Choinere, who purchased the land in 1903 and completed the house in 1904. The house exchanged many hands a hundred years before we found it, right after the Great Recession and huge collapse of the real estate market between 2008 and 2012. It felt risky to buy it at the time in 2009 for $235,000.

Your Mom and I sort of grew up in the house. We grew from carefree 20-somethings into semi-responsible adults. We lived through life stages.

We got engaged and came back to that house. We got married in Indiana, flew to Costa Rica to honeymoon and came back to that house. We learned about failed pregnancies and returned to that house. We adopted our first dog Gianna and lost her in that house. We were chicken farmers right outside that house. We threw parties in that house, great Halloween parties with an orange room for photos. We lived with your uncle Sergio for four years in that house and watched him grow up, too.

We brought you home from the hospital to that house.

We lived through amazing moments for the first time as parents with you in that house. Restless nights. Poopy diapers. More poopy diapers. Watching you laugh for the first time in the living room. Watching you roll over. Watching you crawl. Watching you stumble. Watching you walk and run. We brought your brother home to that house.

And then we realized we're all getting too big, too fast, and faster than the house could keep up — despite all the love and upgrades and money we put into that house. You better believe that we left that house way better than we found it.

The house taught us a lot of lessons along the way. How to paint. How to pay contractors. How to fix busted pipes in the winter. How to fix and replace toilets. How to build decks. How to landscape. How to kill grass accidentally. How to take down gigantic hedges. How to pick contractors for an expensive bathroom addition. How to refinish cabinets. How to pay IKEA to redo those cabinets you painted and refinished.

As it turns out, the house has one more lesson for us: how to let go.

I had a little time in the house a couple nights before we put it on the market. I was packing the last of our personal items out to the garage to ready the house for furniture staging and photos the next day. Looking into that bare, beautiful 1,475 square-foot house, I felt appreciative. Then I felt overwhelmed. I hugged the walls and said thank you. I walked in each and every room and said thank you out loud.

And then, I Iet go.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 44 Months Old

I don’t remember the house my parents brought me home to in Des Moines. I don’t remember the apartment after that and only start to have some memories from a house in Renton that we moved into when I was around age 5.

Similarly, you probably won’t remember the first home we brought you to in Tacoma where you’ve spent your first three and a half years. Your Mom and I will have fond memories from our 12 years in the house and have photos from nearly every day of it. We’ll have plenty of stories for you about how you evolved from rolling over in that house to jumping across its living room like a wild cat.

We decided a few weeks ago to put the house on the market and find the next home — the one you will mostly likely, pending other unforeseen circumtances, call “the home you grew up in.” Future letters will report back on how all of that unfolds.

Why the move? To keep it simple, we could use more space for you two growing kids. Let’s also face the fact that your Mom loves window shopping houses online, and this is her chance to carpe diem. It took me some time (years) to figure out that she liked to go to open houses for fun without much serious interest. I did not enjoy all of the pressure of thinking about real estate on a random Sunday morning while walking through a stranger’s house, but I guess you can enjoy any sort of sport without intending to play along yourself.

Well, this time we’re in the ring. The housing market is really favorable for a sale. People work a lot to make money with their time, but also you have assets, like a house, that can appreciate in value. This is a good moment for us all to get a little more space and change our surroundings. We will talk about all of these adult details about home ownership and financial investments many years from now for your own self interests.

We will likely move within a 20 minute drive from our current house. We won’t stray far and will keep a slice of ourselves connected to this city where you and Eliza were born and we became a family. We will still come back to a lot of your favorite places, including Point Defiance, the Tacoma waterfront, UPS and Pao’s Donuts. We will visit all of your friends (once the pandemic vaccines really roll out). We’ll also get to explore a lot of new surroundings wherever we find our next house.

Moves like this are sort of a big deal. Most people only change houses up to a few times in their childhood and adult lives. You may tend to move around a lot between college and finding your lot in life. I think your Mom and I are doing a good job packing things up, staying sane and only being slighly reliant on your screen time to get us through some hours of the day.

I think we’re also doing a good job looking forward. There’s a lot to look back and be sentimental about. We will find those moments. But in a house that is 117 years old, we’re one of many families and people who have their own memories. We are leaving the house in amazing condition for the next owners. As is often the case, if you leave something better than you found it, you’ve done it the right way.

Love, Dad