The Constant Gardener

DIAPERED

DANE

DISCOVERS

DANGEROUSLY

DELICIOUS

HORTICULTURE

DELIGHTS

DAZZLING!

Five years old, sniff

NEW, IMPROVED, UPDATED VERSION

Aubrey makes turning five look good. She rocks a gymnastics friend party, a day of her requested unhealthy meals, beautiful cupcake towers, family party, hordes of presents, and the perfect breakfast. My mom took all the pictures. When she gets home, uploads them, and sends them to me I will update this post and let you relive your fifth birthday again too. If it was anything like Aubrey's, it's worth reliving.

Pictures emailed, uploaded to IPhoto, ready for your viewing pleasure. Feast your eyes on the glory of a five year old. She is truly our darling princess. We love you, our not so baby girl!

Aubrey, a top "Present Mountain", where she was individually presented her gifts. Tough life.
"What, you're all here to honor me?? If you insist."

A princess being loved on by the queen mum and her grand duke.
Brothers napping and Aubrey helping mama make her cake. Good as it gets.
Yes, thanks for asking. Martha Stewart did photograph this masterpiece for her upcoming birthday magazine. She especially loved how it leaned and shimmered on wrinkled tin foil. I'll have you know though, Aubrey loved it. So I loved it too.

The boys got a couple small things too. It helps take the sting out of watching your sibling open 1 MILLION (think Austin Powers) presents.


It took her three tries to blow out her one five year old candle. She must be missing her mom's windbag gene. (The dress she is wearing is one she opened just before from Grandma and Grandpa Jones. She thought it was the perfect party dress.)
She hates having her picture taken, can't you tell? (This photo shoot with my mom lated at least 10 minutes, per Aubrey's request. Sad that she has so little confidence.) Shout out to my sister Lianna's mom in law who knitted Aubrey the sweater. Shirley, I bow to your knitting greatness.
There is no difference between boys and girls.

When super heros and theology mix

"MOM, GUESS WHAT??"

"What?"

"Spider-man (referring to himself) found the Green Goblin and grabbed him and put pokies on his head nailed him to a cross and he DIED!!"

"Um..."

"But he didn't come back to life."

"No, I don't think the Green Goblin would survive something like that."

"No, because he is MEAN and stinky."

"And not Jesus."

"Jesus???" (Obviously that's the confusing part of the story.)


Later that day:

"Mommy, I don't wanna be Spider-man for Halloween because I AM Spider-man."

"What do you want to be?"

"The Cat in the Hat. Spider-man Cat in the Hat. Ptteww, pttewww (web throwing sound). MEOW."

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!

I'll take Romance Languages for 500

Of course I'll tell you what is driving me crazy these days. Thanks for asking.

The kids have a children's cd in the car. They have hijacked my speakers and now all I listen to in the car are folk singers doing quaint renditions of every children's song ever composed. I know most of them thanks to sister Hannah who spent the better part of her childhood carting around a Fisher Price cassette player blaring "Wee Sing Fun and Folk."

Except one song. The damn song in Italian. (I think "damn" is Italian for lovely.) It's catchy. It's got a groovin' beat. You want to sing it. I mean, even I want to sing to it. But it's in ITALIAN. I catch some of the words like "toot a toot le saxophona" and "ping a ping le mandolino". I spend the rest of the song straining to imagine what instrument he could be talking about next. "Wanga wanga...what could that be? A violin? A harp? A washboard?" He teases me, bellowing similar words yet taunting with 95% gibberish. It's like "Allouette". You know that song's about a bird getting all its body parts chopped off, right?

Oh, and speaking of random photos (nice segue, eh?), I totally copied my brother-in-law Jason's post idea and picked an IPhoto picture at random. I swear it was random. I also swear that it's awesome.

You got it folks. This is my sister KayLynn and her husband David getting down and dirty to "The Wiggles". You're welcome you guys, you are welcome. Consider it a house warming gift.

That's all folks!

What might have been

Oh man, do I feel jipped.

Greg is putting up the kids' swing set today. Can you say excellent blog fodder??? I mean, think of how many things could go wrong! The crashing boards, the broken bones, the curse words. It makes me drool it's all such excellent writing material. I actually fell asleep thinking about what a great post I would have today after this project.

As you may have guessed, I have been woefully disappointed. Oh sure, there's been a broken drill bit or two and one scraped arm but seriously, who wants to hear about that?? Our neighbor boys have been here all day and the older two want to know if they are going to get paid for their efforts. (Does holding one board in place and then looking on blankly for the rest of the time really count as two hours worth of work??) I guess I could parlay that into a story about thievery? Something's missing and I'm pretty sure it's a busted femur.

We must give a shout out to Greg's dad though. When he and Greg dismantled the swing set (we got it second hand from a friend) he meticulously labeled all the parts, wrapped them in executive I-have-a-clue-what-I'm-doing plastic wrap and made sectionally appropriate bundles. Putting it up, short of the labor, has been a piece of cake. Hey, thanks a lot Doug, now I don't have a good story!! Seriously though, thanks. You have made Greg's job 100 times easier.

Last thing. Saw "Julie and Julia" with a friend and thoroughly enjoyed it. Also went to a baby shower this morning and held this darling little girl who was given darling little girl clothes and I almost cried I was so happy about all the pink. Charlotte and Vinnie, nice job on Logan. She pretty much rocks.

Sigh. Back to watch Greg successfully put up the swing set. Nary a cloud, or a swear word, in sight.

The American Dream

On the way home this evening I was listening to NPR. (You know, National Public Radio to all you cool rock music listening kids.) A man was discussing a book he wrote on the 100 richest Americans in 100 different cities. He kept referring to them as people who were living the American Dream.

When people think of the American Dream they think of wealth. Starting with nothing and ending with a lot of something. Lest you think I'm too self-righteous here, if someone handed me millions of dollars I would take it. And if being at stay at home mom was lucrative that would be cool by me.

The truth is though, when I think about what I want to accomplish with my life, I never think of money. I admit, poverty sounds awful. I don't want to wonder if I have enough money to feed my kids or to shelter them. I don't want to live on the street. Having said that though, wealth is not something that Greg or I pursue. It's just not important to us.

I know what I do want. I want a great marriage. Not good, but great. I want to still laugh really hard with Greg when we are 89 and deaf. I want to be his best friend. I want to be a woman he likes coming home to. I want our kids to look back and say that their childhoods were better because they always felt secure in our love for each other.

I want to raise kids who love God first and other people second. While I do want them to be happy, I don't want them to think that their happiness is what this life is about. I want them to learn gratitude and be thankful for the abundance of things they have, even if they have to share bedrooms (GASP, the HORROR!) I want them to respect other people and themselves. I want them to believe in truth and to know that some things aren't gray. I want them to know that their worth lies in their hearts and souls and not in the perceptions of the world. I want them to know how stinking much they are loved.

I want to live near our families. I want to spend our free time hanging out with cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and great friends. I want to worry about who I'm vacationing with, not where.

And if somehow, pursuing a great marriage, raising amazing children, and building relationships makes me filthy rich, so be it.

Gardening, and other life threatening activities

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SHOCKING DESCRIPTIONS OF INSECTS AND OTHER NASTY THINGS THAT LIVE OUTSIDE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

One unholy spider (cousin of the beast under my deck) with a web attached from bean plant to fence, dozens of daddy long legs taking residence in said bean plants, bird intestines strewn about the patio, and long grass that repeatedly brushed on my legs, felt like hair spider toes, and made me writhe.

Just another day of gardening.

So, our pole beans are insane. They are a life force of their own. They have busted the rods they were growing around, infiltrated the cucumbers, and grown into the lawn. They are producing green beans to feed a whole potluck worth of people. Yet, they are tricky. They hide, covered by leaves, masquerading as mere shrubbery (bring me your shrubbery!). You have to plunge your hands into all this flora to find them, it's dark and dank and oh, what was that brushing my hand? A leaf? A flower? A woman eating beastly lawn creature? Makes me itch just thinking about it. I have seen too many living organisms in that patch of bean insanity to enjoy harvest anymore. Anyone ever seen "Little Shop of Horrors?" You know what I mean.

The cats like to kill birds and then create art work from their entrails. Enough said.

I walked into the web of another FREAKING HUGE SCARY AWFUL FLESH DEVOURING spider that since Sunday has made a quaint home for itself between the fence and my plants. I literally walked into the web and it didn't break. It's made of the stuff Wolverine's claws are made of. You know, titanium steel xyrozenokenokryptonite. And that spider just lurks there, daring me to move around its web lest it land in my hair and end my life.

If you dare to face the terror of the Jones garden come help yourself. The beans are up for grabs.

p.s. Who knows what movie "bring me your shrubbery" is from?

Do you hear what I hear?

Some things you would have heard in the Jones house this weekend:

The music of Keb' Mo' and Kings of Leon

"Mommy, I just tooted on the mirror!"

RRRRR, Pshhh, RRRR, Pshhhh (an air mattress being repeatedly inflated and deflated by Grandma Julie for the enjoyment of three small children)

"Does anyone want something from Starbucks?" (Thank you Dad. It is the nectar of the gods.)

"Happy Birthday dear Claire, Happy Birthday to you!"

Dad, Greg, and David jamming at Claire's birthday party

"Lianna was hit by a raft on the drive home!" (Um, nobody was injured since she was thankfully driving the raft proof car.)

"Dad, I had to turn around at Ellensburg and go home. The Merc smelled like gas." (Hannah having her weekend plans sabotaged for the second time when the car headed south. Steven Tyler ruined the other part by breaking his shoulder blade and canceling his concert.)

"WHO IS THIS??" (Me, being so funny and tricky on the phone to dear bro-in-law Matt.)

"I was reading these kids' IEPs and I already love them." (Lianna, talking about her behavior room students for next school year. She has a gift I tell you.)

"..and God closed the lions' mouthes..." "No, Nathan, an angel closed their mouthes!" "I know, a God angel." (Hey, at least they were listening!)

"Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamam...."
(My Dane, ready to meet me and his day with his smiling face at 6:15 a.m.)

"Claire gets her presents from us in Seattle since we accidentally packed them."

WWWWWAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! (Me, crying, since they are moving to Seattle. Without me.)

"Wanna snuggle and watch 'Departed'?" (My darlin'.)


"...good night Moon...good-night nobody, good night mush...good night stars, good night air, good night noises everywhere."

What the world needs now is love, sweet love

Once there was just one sister in Spokane. Then another came. And another. Then the third sis moved to Pullman and we were all within about an hour of each other. Life was good. Then one sister moved to South Dakota. Now another sister is moving to Seattle in less than two weeks. Pullman sis thinks she's allowed to bail and head to Ireland in the spring. And then there will be just one sister left in Spokane. She is NOT HAPPY about this.

KayLynn and David are heading to Seattle so David can start law school. Seattle mind you, not Swaziland. They have a cute new place and a fun adventure ahead of them. I don't begrudge them their new bend in the road. I just wish it drove straight to my front door. Lianna and Matt moved back to Yakima which is way closer than Sioux Falls and Hannah is only going to study abroad for a few months but still....

The one up side is that I have sisters worth missing. I hope you have someone worth missing too.