Which one is which?

My mom used to have to look at what clothing we were wearing in baby pictures to identify which baby it was.

"OH, that little pink outfit is one my aunt gave to KayLynn but KayLynn didn't get that particular stain on it, that was Lianna, so that is Lianna. I think."

Seriously?? How could she not identify her own precious babies? What kind of unobservant mother was she?

Forgive me dear mother.

Our screen saver on our computer is all our digital photos and EVERY TIME a picture of a baby comes up the kids say, "Who is it, who is it??"

(p.s. IF you need reminding, I am one of four girls. My mom didn't even have the benefit of gender specific clothing for clues.)

"UM, I think....Nathan, yes, definitely Nathan." (Means, I think it might have been Nathan. Or was it Dane?)

Quite frankly, my babies look alike. Greg is fair like me. He has blue eyes. All our kids are blondish/baldish babies with gray blue eyes. They all weighed about the same. They were born in the same era. Heck, they were practically born in the same sports season! Needless to say, particularly with my little boys, more than one picture has gone past with me wondering, now which kid was that?

Can you tell???

When a blog is neglected

I have let this little blog down lately. I have missed it. I have pictures of Greg's and my weekend getaway to Cave B Resort (glorious), much promised photos of the updated, moved in house, and random pictures of my family that are impossible not to share. Do you get any of that today? Nah. I need to shower and it sounds like too much work. Maybe tomorrow.

What I did want to say is that this morning I was congested and feeling large pregnant and whiny. My precious boys woke up with their Y chromosomes on full throttle. While Aubrey and I were trying to eat breakfast they were whipping their blankets around, running in circles, and poking us. Aubrey was even less impressed than I was. Then I heard Greg hop out of the shower. I told the boys, "Hey Daddy's out of the shower. I bet he's naked. Go get him!!" Worked like a charm.

Have a great day!

What dreams are made of

A guy Greg works with needed to get rid of his Nerf dart guns. (His fiance wondered why he needed SEVEN of them.) He gave them all to Greg. When he walked in with that bag of guns Nathan sucked all the oxygen out of the air. We already owned two so we now have a complete arsenal. Watch out you private militias, you ain't got nothing on the Joneses.

And for the record, Nathan and Dane may or may not have we their pants in excitement when they saw all the guns.

I am definitely missing the Y chromosome. Aubrey is upstairs taking a bubble bath and playing with My Little Ponies. Ahh, now that I get!

It's a shame

Remember Dane? My son? I hope you enjoyed him the last time you saw him because I sold him today.

As good as it gets

On the song "Highway 20 Ride" by the Zac Brown band, he says that raising his son was "the pleasure of his life." That's exactly how I feel today.

After shopping at the mall for some more maternity shirts I came home and told Greg that he was going to be blown away by my cuteness in my new shirt. He told me that he's always blown away by my cuteness.

It's been a good day.

They didn't tell me about this

Parenting. It always surprises you. I remember thinking with Aubrey that once she slept through the night that it would all be a piece of cake. ANYTHING had to be easier than sleep deprivation. Go ahead now, laugh amongst yourselves.

Those of you who know Aubrey understand that she is a sensitive soul. She doesn't like big crowds, is content working on art projects and crafts, and requires gentle parenting. She is thoughtful and considerate and kind but an extrovert or a dare devil, she is not.

Onto my story. We were at a birthday party this evening at McDonalds. It has a huge tunnel like play structure with a large, twisty, enclosed tunnel slide coming down off of it. Only recently has Aubrey even ventured down it and that was with plenty of encouragement. Nathan on the other hand likes it best on his stomach, head first, a face splitting smile on his face.

All night Nathan threw himself down that slide head first. Aubrey really really wanted to do it. She wanted to see what he was grinning wildly about. She came up to me, already nearly in tears, and said, "Mommy, I want to go down the slide head first but I'm so scared. BUT I WANT TO."

I encouraged her that she could do it and that I would wait at the bottom for her. Nathan went first to show her how. Understand, the entrance to this slide is way up in the middle of this huge tunnel structure and it's nearly impossible for this pregnant mama to get to her. I could hear her though, sobbing at the top, "Mommy, I want to, I want to, I want to, but I'm so scared!"

Other kids came down that had crawled past her. I yelled up to her, "Honey, just go feet first. I'm standing right at the bottom waiting for you. We can practice head first later."

Out came Nathan, head first, and bounced out shouting, "THAT IS SO MUCH FUN!"

Then I heard Aubrey's tentative voice saying, "Mommy, I'm coming, I'm coming." I could see her little shadow slowly creeping down, hands first. "YOU CAN DO IT HONEY! GOOD JOB!"

Then, the hysterics, the panic. "MOMMY, HELP ME, HELP ME, I'M TOO SCARED, I'M TOO SCARED!!!! HHEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP MMMEEEE!!!!!!"

Without a thought this mama climbed up the tunnel slide, nearly to the top, and held her hands all the way down. By the time we got to the bottom she was sobbing so hard she couldn't talk. I picked her up and held her while she cried and cried.

When she could talk she looked at me with these huge teary eyes and said, "Mommy, how come I'm not brave like Nathan? I want to be brave and I tried so hard but I was just scared. How come I'm not brave?"

Yes, there were tears in my eyes. There was my precious, just the way God made her, little girl, wondering why she wasn't good enough. Broke my heart right there in the craze of a McDonald's birthday party.

The thing is, I want her to have the courage to try things that scare her. I want her to conquer her fears and know the confidence that comes from thinking you couldn't do something but you did it anyways. I also want her to have the confidence to say, "I am exactly the way God made me and I'm satisfied with that. I'd rather not go head first down the dark twisty slide, thank you very much."

So, I talked my best talk and she listened. I told her that God makes everyone different and special. I told her that we are all made differently to fulfill the plan that God has for each of us. He wants to do something different with her then he wants to do with Nathan or Dane or Mommy and Daddy. That means that we are all special, with special talents and skills. It also means that we are each going to have things that we are naturally good at and things that we have to work harder at to be successful. I tried to emphasize that even if it's hard it doesn't mean we don't do it, we just do it knowing it might take us more work than a different person. I rambled on and on, trying to find the balance I had in my head with my inadequate words.

I talked about what true bravery is. Yes, it's doing something despite its difficulty. What it really is though is doing the RIGHT thing, the Godly thing, despite its difficulty. We talked about a time that she refused to exclude the younger sibling of a friend from playing even though the big sister wanted to. I told her that was true bravery, doing the right and kind thing even when it felt hard. That's the kind of bravery God is interested in, not whether or not she goes head first down a slide.

This might seem like over kill for a scared kid on a slide but this is the tough stuff I tell you. Teaching our kids to value themselves not because of what they accomplish but because of who they are in Christ. If only I knew how to consistently apply this to my own life, maybe I would feel better about teaching it to my children. My precious babies who are created and knit together by God, the exact way they are supposed to be.

As for the slide? Well, Greg loves roller coasters and I hate them. I'm okay with that and I pray that Aubrey can be too.

Me and my boys

Today while Aubrey was at school I just hung out with two of my three main men. We have been working at the new house a lot lately and all the kids are in need of some attention. This is what we did.

I bathed the boys. I tried very hard to replicate Greg's "Mrs. Shmoochy" voice, the voice of their hand puppet washcloth. Nathan flatly said, "That's not what she sounds like, call Daddy." I did. Greg though this was hilarious. He also refused to do the voice over the phone in the office he was currently sharing with three other people. Sissy. I settled for screaming, "OH THE HUMANITY!" while the boys bit me with plastic sharks. It did the trick.

We read four books. It has to be an even number because they take turns sitting on my lap and the wrath of hell awaits the mom who lets one boy sit on her lap once while the other one gets to twice. As if there was much of a lap these days to fight about. Dane chose "Curious George" and this hideous picture books where you just name random items found in a house. I can't believe I haven't accidentally packed that book yet. Nathan likes all books and is just happy sitting on my lap and hold my hand.

I let Nathan and Dane watch the opening credits to "Top Gun." No, they do not watch any further where there is profanity and death and MATURE AUDIENCE only stuff. But oh, that opening scene with jets. FIGHTER JETS. MOM, CAN WE WATCH MORE FIGHTER JETS?!??!?! LOOK AT THE JETS!!! They then ran their own jets around the room while Nathan yelled, "Incoming Bogey, incoming bogey!" Dad, are you proud?

It was a great morning.

Making the bed

Three kids, two a jumping blur, one wielding a dart gun, and one tumbleweed. Seems normal to me.

I am an evil mother

Yesterday I asked Aubrey and Nathan to pick up the toy room. Aubrey stuck out her lip and said, "You're such a killjoy."

Yes she did. She did say that.

Yesterday Nathan he was "so so sad" because he didn't have any fun left in the day. That was after I put his Halloween candy up so he didn't barf from his 50th piece.

My poor, poor kids. They have the hardest lives EVER.

(Nathan, Aubrey, let me introduce you to reality. I don't think you've met.)

Just another Sunday

Yesterday we went to the evening service of church. It is a smaller service with a fraction of the kids who attend the early morning services.

When we check our kids into their Sunday school classes they are assigned a bracelet with a number and we have one that matches. If something happens during church their number flashes up on a big screen and it means your kid needs you pronto. Our friends on the inside call it church bingo. The childcare workers try hard to only call parents out when your kid truly does need you. You know, pronto.

Our kids were about 40% of the children checked in last night. We rarely are called out. You know, cause our kids never fuss or make messes or cause problems. An attitude which we obviously needing humbling from.

My booty had barely warmed the seat when up comes the first number. I knew instantly it was one of ours. Nathan. I head to his class to find him crying miserably while his kind teacher, and family friend Brad, consoled him. Accident. Pee AND poop. Dear Lord.

I take him to the van. I don't even carry extra clothes for him anymore because he is potty trained. And what will I do with the poop. That's a whole other story of course about being prepared and kids do whatever the heck they want even when you think you are in charge. But I digress.

I was kind and patient to my poor crying son. I also had nothing for him to wear. He was desperate to return because the kids were going to play outside. I ended up dressing him in no underwear (Ang, it was even on purpose!) and a pair of Dane's sweats. They were little red knickers on him and he looked ridiculous. Who cares though? Brad the teacher swore they wouldn't openly mock him and Nathan didn't care so back he goes.

As I'm leaving to head back to service I see Greg approach with Dane. Who is wearing a dress shirt and diaper and that's it. "Hon, do you have any extra pants for Dane?" Seems Dane had exploded poop all over his clothes and was now half naked. Greg had won church bingo just moments after I left. Of course, I did have pants for Dane but they were now on Nathan. Since Nathan was naked underneath he got to keep the pants. Dane ran around in the cold fall evening, pants less and shoe less. Friend and teacher Brad recommended we squirt a fake tear on his cheek, put he and Nathan together for a photo, and the church could use it as an advertisement for helping the down and out families of Valley Real Life.

Greg and I looked at each other and called it a day. We went home about 35 minutes into church. It felt sacrilege but pee and poop beat out God for the evening. And remember, never ever ever leave your house without three changes of clothes per person, seven diapers and pull-ups, and 1000 wipes. Even if you don't have kids.

Good Night Sweetheart

May you fall asleep tonight the way the Jones babies did.

A new memory verse (Galatians 5:22) for the week said. Prayers. Kisses. Hugs.

And Daddy, singing you verse after verse of Swing Low and You Are My Sunshine.

Sleep in heavenly peace indeed.


(Pictures, respectively: Dane, 6 months, at the Tacoma zoo
Nathan, 13 months, in Seaside, OR
Aubrey, 2 + yrs old, Christmas 2006)

In defense of mass consumerism

Apparently the primary interest of my last post was the gross display of marketing and consumerism, i.e., the kids' play room. You know how people never know their own house stinks? I'm beginning to think it's the say way with toy rooms. You just don't realize how much stuff there is until someone else points it out. Do you want my excuses?

1. Have three children. Multiply each year of life by a birthday and Christmas. Add in many generous family members. Mix with hordes of hand me downs. Equals a play thing or two.

2. We do reductions every so often, I swear! And we've given toys away. And we talk about being grateful, remember? And thankful for what we have. And besides, the only way to have peace in our home is to have a Magna Doodle for each kid. So what?

3. Did you see the book shelf? I mean, books are cool, right? We have a lot of books. I include Greg and I in that "we". It seems better than having lots of swords or bobble heads or spiders.

4. I'm mostly just embarrassed. I can't even tell you where they have all come from. We buy very few of them and inherit lots. Plus, who knew kids actually played with stuffed animals? Aubrey has her millions on the Dewey Decimal System I think. Just watch what happens if you try to slip pink poodle out in a midnight toy cleanse. She'll notice.

5. Wanna come visit? You're kids will love it here!

When Mama Ain't Happy...

...well, you know how the rest of it goes.

The word for the week has been WHINE. Did you know that constant whining can drive grown women to tears? Okay, let's cut the generalities. It can, and has, made me cry.

There has been nary a moment this week when someone hasn't been whining. Fighting, squabbling, snotty noses, bickering, fit throwing, tantrums. I have been so grumpy. Dinner is a chore I have barely been able to stomach. Tuesday I just didn't.

And speaking of chores. Can I just say that my life this week has been straight from "Groundhog's Day?" This is what Dane does. He touches something, dumps it, moves on. I follow behind, pick it up, move on. He redumps it. I reclean it. Repeat one million times. What if someone came to your office everyday and undid everything you did the day before? Trust me, at some point the futility of your job would get the better of you.

Everyone has colds. Everyone has snot. Nathan has constant snot on his cheek and arm and has perfected a hysterical screech of, "I NEED A TISSUE!" Dane just lets it run straight into his mouth. Then Nathan screams that DANE NEEDS A TISSUE!! And I just scream because if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Aubrey hates VBS this week, another fun activity to battle. You know, since she has to go to preschool in the same place in four weeks. Sweet.

I AM SPENT. Greg sent me on my way for an hour this week while he took over the house. I sat in the parking lot outside of Blockbuster for 30 minutes reading a book. I tried to rent a movie only to be told that we still have "The Great Mouse Detective" from 3 months ago. Which I haven't seen in forever and am sure returned. So I went and bought Dove chocolate instead. Then read more of my book from the car in our driveway and called Greg from the driveway to make sure our kids were in bed before I came inside.

Go ahead. Read back on some of my recent posts where I weep for joy over the divine holiness of motherhood and family. It's still true. It's just that this week I think I'm in purgatory.

Too little to be big

"The only thing that will make me feel better is if you stay and watch me."

This is what Aubrey told me, sitting on my lap, between ragged tears, about going to Vacation Bible School (VBS) tomorrow. Get it? She doesn't want to go.

VBS is being held at the church where she'll be going to preschool in a few weeks. It's five days, three hours each day. Her VBS class is being taught by her actual preschool teacher. There will be kids in her class that will go to preschool with her. Get it? I think VBS is a good idea.

We have been talking about going for a while and she has been okay with the idea. Ambivalent, but fine. Tonight was different though. She is going tomorrow and this almost five year old knows that tomorrow means. It means soon. One big sleep and off we go.

"Will you come back for me?"

Is she trying to kill me?

She is Nervous with a capital N. There will be a lot of new faces and Aubrey isn't into new faces. There will be too many things she won't be familiar with and unfamiliar makes her quiet and, well, more quiet. Tonight she seemed so little and so sad and I was thinking, it's just VBS, right? Why does she have to go? Or go to preschool? Or school? Or spend the night or go to camp or visit Grandma and Grandpa without me or go to college???

I know from myself, and from her, that doing scary things, facing them, CONQUERING THEM, and getting through them is good for you. It builds confidence. It forces you to meet people and make friends. It paves the way for one day moving out and not having to live in your parents' basement until you're 45.

But, it's one thing for me to be nervous. I'm big enough to take it. I know how to find a way out of things. I look other adults in the eye. I can hop in my car and run away if I want to. But Aubrey? She is still getting coached on knowing her own address, isn't 3 1/2 feet tall, is afraid of most adults, and is being sent to VBS against her will. Somehow her nerves are scarier and way more... nervouser. (You know, since that's a word.)

Me? I'm praying she doesn't give me the brave face tomorrow. Huge eyes, not blinking so the tears won't fall, big false smile, flushed cheeks, high little voice, pretend bravado. It is 100 times worse than a meltdown and this mommy isn't sure she's up to the task.

Then again, if Aubrey can find the courage to tackle VBS than I can find the courage to not bawl my eyes out as she squares those little shoulders and marches into her class.

Parenting is not for wimps.

A walk down memory lane

In the absence of an any new pictures I thought you might enjoy a few blasts from the past.

Aubrey (3 1/2), Dane (2 months), and Nathan (21 months). Nathan flipping a gang sign.
Dane, a.k.a. Mr. Potato head, on the day he was born
Aubrey, rocking her inner Chanel (2 1/2).
Nathan likes to move it move it at 7 1/2 months.

Don't hate me because my kids are beautiful

Inspiration takes many forms

Today while power washing the deck I met one of these:



I stop, drop, rolled, and screamed while firing away at our guest with a hose. The kids wanted to help me but were too spellbound by the dang spider to be of any assistance. Instead, they were inspired to do this:

Glad I could oblige.

What's it worth to you?

Imagine if you will a man. A young man of 32. Who decides one fine Saturday to go water skiing for the first time in a year . A young man who spends Sunday moaning, pointing to all the spots on his back that need rubbed during church, claiming that the left booty cheek hurts more than the right, hobbling, chewing on Ibuprofen, and bemoaning how old he feels. He is a man who wants nothing more than to do nothing.


Skip forward a few hours. Greg and Sara (aka young man and smokin' hot wifey) have taken their family to the splash pad at the park because it's 100 degrees out. On this splash pad there is a bucket that fills and fills until it tips over and dumps water on the person below. Sara wonders out loud, "What would it take for you to stand under that bucket?" Greg, who is still a dim shadow of himself says, without hesitation, "I'd do it if I don't have to do anything once we get home."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."


Sara ponders. "But the house is a mess. I don't want to do all of bedtime and house cleaning by myself."


Greg, showing his desperation says, " Fine. I'll clean the kitchen but nothing else."


"That's is? If I put the kids to bed you'll stand fully clothed under the bucket of freezing cold water torture?"

"Yep."


And he did. He even stood over the top of a huge sprayer afterward just to "sweeten the deal."

Desperate times call for desperate measures.
p.s. If you haven't, please read the post below and comment. I'd love to hear more responses!

Better man (or woman)

Everyday when Greg gets home from work he asks me what I did that day. I often amaze myself as I recount the day's activities. A common day includes a trip to the grocery store, an art project, an outing to the park, making cookies, running through the sprinkler, scouring ads for coupons, to say nothing of the daily routine of child care, bathing, laundry, dishes, sweeping, reading stories, snuggles, and the million and one toys I pick up. When I think about it even I can't believe what I accomplish in a day!

It's because of efficiency. I am more efficient now that I have kids. It is a skill acquired accidentally while I got down to the business of having a family and I am better for it.

This got me thinking about other ways that marriage and parenthood have improved me. I am more efficient. I hope I'm more patient. I am a better communicator. I have found personal balance between house keeping and having space to just live. I look at my husband and kids and have a glimmer of how God feels about me. I have a more eternal perspective which gives everyday greater hope. I KNOW that I am a better person because of being a wife and mother.

I'd love some comments. How has marriage and/or parenthood made YOU a better person??