Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

Welcome to your pictorial guide on how to build raised garden beds.

Two key things to note before you look at these pictures. One, my mom did a lot of work, she just also took all the pictures so you don't see the evidence.

Two, I spent most of garden making morning with Nathan at the doc, tending to him while he was diagnosed with double ear infections and pneumonia. That counts, right? (And, since you all know I can't resist an opportunity to brag, I also broke up all the sod the day before. So there.)

If you need any fresh veggies this summer hopefully our place will be the place to be.

Mother's Day, part Deux

This year is a Mother's Day for learning lessons.

Mother's Day weekend got off to an auspicious start. Our little Nathan who has been sick with the rest of the kids, really had taken a downward turn the last few days. I took him into the doc yesterday and he was diagnosed with double ear infections and pneumonia. We were nearly admitted to the hospital but escaped to home with antibiotics and a nebulizer.

As we were leaving the doctor said, "Oh, I'm sorry, sick kids on Mother's Day! That won't be much of a break."

At the risk of sounding ridiculously corny, my first thought at that comment was, well, that is what being a mother is about. I am so grateful to be a mom and if I have to spend my Mother's Day mothering then I'll be happy to do it. (With a Starbucks in hand and promises of a bubble bath at some point.) That is after all what the day is about.

Second lesson. I know there are a lot of complaints out our health care system, but we in America are still blessed. In two hours time Nathan was seen by an educated doctor in a clean office, given Motrin, a nebulizer treatment, and two shots of antibiotics. We were then sent to the hospital where he had a chest x-ray with modern equipment and the results were called back to me before I got home. I then went to a pharmacy two minutes from my house and all the meds he needed were there on the shelves and in my hands in about five minutes. Need I say more?

Third second lesson is that family, good family, is of immeasurable worth. My parents were in town to help us put in a vegetable garden and while I was running Nathan all over creation my parents were here helping Greg. The three of them watched the other two kids and managed to put up the frames for the gardens and fill them with yards of dirt carried via wheel barrows. Then Greg's parents showed up with a fully assembled new bbq for us for Greg's birthday and we all feasted on meat. The day ended with two new raised garden beds, a new BBQ, Nathan on meds and under the watchful eye of six loving adults and one doting sister, and full bellies. WITH SICK KIDS! It was noting short of miraculous. THANK YOU FOR FAMILY.

Are you tired of my preaching? Well, sometimes we just need to be reminded of all the awesome blessings we have. I know I need that reminder and I have felt it all weekend long.

Mother's Day

To all you moms, soon to be moms, and praying to be moms. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! Have a great weekend celebrating and insist on pampering. I know I intend to invoke the "But it's Mother's Day!" mantra all weekend long.

An interpreter is needed on aisle five

Do you speak snivle, snivve, wail, snort? If so, you're hired.

Aubrey has started a most maddening night time habit. (Note to new parents. There are many ways older children can continue to torture you in the middle of the night even after infancy. Sorry to blow the surprise.)

It begins when she wakes up crying. Greg or I go in, full of parental compassion. Are you sick? Did you have a bad dream? Are you hurt? Do you need to pee? She responds by making unitelligible gasping and choking sounds. Compassion continues. Honey, what is wrong? Do you need a snuggle? More wailing, gasping, punctuated by snorting efforts to breathe through a heavily plugged nose. She resists hugs and makes no sound that resembles anything in the English language. Snort, wail, gasp, cry, moan, eh eh eh eh eh, waaaaaaahhhhhhh. It's enough to make a saint swear.

This tends to go on until we have to take her out of the room because she's causing such a ruckus, or Greg or I lose our temper. Seriously. I hate it that we lose our cool but this little scene goes on forEVER with her providing no information, no calming down, and resisting all efforts of consolation. It is MADDENING I TELL YOU!

I used to think she wasn't awake but I've ditched that idea. She will occasionally once she has calmed down say something about what we said at the beginning of the ordeal. She remembers these episodes in the morning although can never provide any information about why she was hysterical. "I don't know mommy. Can I have more Cheerios?"

This just happened, thus spawning this blog post. I managed to get her to say, between the most finger nails on a blackboard nasal snorts you have ever heard, that she might be hot, no wait, cold, and that she was trying to get out of the way. Right. When I tried to clarify if she was hot or cold while I put her back to bed she would only grunt in response and then re-freaked out because I didn't properly smooth her quilt and her blue blankie was put on her fuzzy side down instead of silky. My parting words were, after praying that God would grant us both PEACE, "Aubrey, mommy has to leave now because she's going insane."

Serenity now!

Sick and Tired

Sick (Nathan) and Tired (Greg)
Three sick babies, getting some good mama lovin'
Me and Mr. Fever
Greg, making 32 look GOOD
Lots of help blowing out candles, lots of spit



We rang in Greg's 32nd birthday this weekend and capped it off with illness. Coughs and fevers around. Honestly, we had a nice day yesterday with the sickos. Lots of resting, lots of juice, lots of movies. Everyone in jammies all day. The kind of day I could get used to. I think more of the same is in order today. I might (MIGHT) get dressed today. Might.

Greg's birthday was lovely. We had dinner we the Baerlochers and the Brandons on Saturday night and had a little birthday party with Greg's parents on Sunday. Greg must have had a nice time because Sunday night he said, "I'm sorry that my birthday is already over." But just think, only six more months until mine!

A week in pictures

Girl's Day Out pedicures for my mom's 50th birthday. Who can find Sara's ugly feet??
I am toddler, hear me roar!
"Today is Hawaii Bear's birthday. Can we have a birthday party?"
This is how we party.
Bobby Fisher is found!
Snacks+fort=a rockin' morning.
The aftermath of the kids and me making homemade pizza.
Bunking the beds is the best thing to ever happen to us.

Danish awesomeness

Unworthy

This morning the kids and I were rocking out to Brandi Carlisle. (Side note. My friend Mandy invited me to her concert last night and it was one of the best concerts I have ever seen. She performed with the symphony and her voice and song writing were unbelievable. Another story for another day though. Thanks Mandy!) We were being funny, shaking our booties, and going wild. You know, normal everyday Jones stuff.

When the kids started pleading for water we took a break. Aubrey was sitting at the counter and asked out of the blue, "Mommy, do I look like you?" Now, as everyone knows, Aubrey looks like Greg, but I said oh yes, there are lots of things about you that look like me. We both have blond hair, blue eyes, long thin fingers, etc. She smiled but said again, "But do I really LOOK like you?" And I realized what she wanted to know was if she was LIKE me. So again, I said yes, and told her all the ways I thought we were similar in personality. At the end of my list she said, "Give me a high five!", I think because she was so happy that I thought she was like me. She wanted to be like me, not in looks but in person. Whoa.

Good grief. Is there any higher compliment than someone wanting to be like you? And my own kid?? It is an awe inspiring, staggering responsibility that I am so blessed to have. I am truly not worthy of all the ridiculously awesome things in my life.

If I only had a brain

This morning, while cleaning out our garage, I ran across binders full of old college notes. Pathophysiology, pharmacology, how to convince people with diabetes to take care of themselves so their feet don't fall off, etc. I have saved them all.

Looking through my old notes put me in a funk. I used to think! I used to make witty conversation and intelligent medical remarks! I used to be able to criticize the docs on "E.R." because I could tell when they were wrong! I used to set the curve on tests! I used to make payments on student loans that supported that nursing education!

All of this was said through a fog of tears and self pity while I bemoaned my lack of mental activity to Greg. "I'm turning into one of THEM!" I wailed. "One of those people who only talks about dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and how many coupons I cut that day. Someday someone will ask the kids what I was like when they were little and they'll say, 'She swept a lot.' "

Which was a premonition. After a day of cleaning the garage, the front steps, the flower beds, I was SWEEPING our kitchen floor for the 1 zillionth time when my back went into a major spasm. I landed on the floor with what felt like back labor and the kids fussed over me asking, "Mommy, what's wrong, what's wrong?!?!" Dane helped by sitting on my head with a poopy diaper. Now, hours later, it is still killing me and always a moment away from spasming. Which is to say, it was a sign that I sweep too often and that I should spend my invalid time reading something brilliant. Now if only I could process something more complex than "Where the Wild Things Are".

What a girl wants, what a girl needs

As you know from my last post, Aubrey got a bike for Easter. It is substantially bigger than her last one. It has brakes (bet you didn't know that tiny kid bikes don't even come with brakes) and Greg set the training wheels so that she feels a lot more wobbling. All this to say that the girl who loves to ride a bike is having to readjust to this new bike. Aubrey's adventuresome spirit ends with putting WAY TOO MUCH milk on her Cheerios so feeling tippy on her bike has been a big time stresser for her.

Which leads me to my point. Yesterday morning we were supposed to meet a friend at the mall play area for kid play time and mommy talk. The night before she called me to tell me that two of her four kids were barfing. Play dates end with barf so that was off.

Side note parenting lesson: NEVER tell you kids in advance about plans because when they fall through or change (which they always seem to do), they won't forget and your life will full of anguish and misery because your kids will be full of anguish and misery at the injustice of broken plans.

When I told Aubrey about the sick kids she instantly started whining. "But I want to go to the mall! It's not fun here! I'm bored!" I told her that the next morning we would either go to the park or the mall, depending on the weather. She seemed satisfied and headed to bed.

Yesterday we awoke to gorgeous blue skies, sunshine, and the promise of a lovely spring day. The park it is! When Aubrey heard this her face fell and she plopped on the floor. "I don't want to go to the park! I want to go to the mall! I hate sunny days and fresh air and fragrant flowers! Besides, all the other kids are getting their nose pierced!" (I am imagining this same conversation ten years down the road.)

After much discussion about gratitude, mommy not having to take her anywhere, and the effect whining has on mommy's mood, I loaded the boys in the wagon and Aubrey got on her bike to head to the park. Beautiful. Tranquil. Fresh and wholesome and lovely. Only interrupted by Aubrey's sighing and whining and grunting about her bike and how "terrifying" it was (yep, that good old Montgomery exaggeration gene already works) and how fast it went. But fresh and wholesome nonetheless.

That is until we were assaulted by a gentle spring breeze. Assaulted I tell you! That darn whisper of wind glided ever so gently over Aubrey's face. It nearly stripped the flesh from her bones! The horror! The anguish! Aubrey gasped, bike swerving erratically as she dipped her head and body away from the miserable gust and she wailed, "MOMMY, I cannot be out in this kind of weather! You have to take me to the mall!"

Greg thinks we need to move to a farm.