In my heart

Dear Graham:

Tomorrow is your Christmas program at school, and I won't be there. I have wrestled with the difficulties of being a working mommy, and this is one that I just can't beat. I will miss your singing and your dancing (Mommy was in Show Choir, so really put some emotion into it for me). Even though you won't see me sitting among the other parents there, please know that at exactly the moment your performance starts, I will be thinking of you and praying for you to not be scared. I will sing your little songs in my head and when Daddy brings me the video, I will watch it with you and ooohhh and ahhh at how amazing you were up there.

Mommy often hears how much better a parent I would be if I just accomplished _______ or just stayed home to ________ or just did ______ the way they did. Well, you never say that to me. You never mention any shortcomings I have or anything that I'm missing. You don't ever start a conversation with something that I'm not doing. Instead, you run to hug me when you see me. You share your secrets (and your chocolate) with me. You cuddle up to me and beg me to read you Charlie the Ranchdog just one more time and scream with excitement when our favorite show, "Doc McStuffins" is coming on (which I think you only like because I do!). And so I am confident that your day tomorrow is no where near ruined because I will be at work, but that you will LOVE to share your excitement with me when I meet you at the door tomorrow afternoon. I adore you, Graham, and anything you do, create, sing, bake, or imagine up is simply intoxicating (I particularly enjoyed yesterday's wolf...aka Miss Beasley...hunt that you and Ollie went on). You are an amazing child, and I am so very lucky that I am allowed to be your mother (even if I am a working one).

All of my love,
Mommy

PS--If Oliver screams at you while you are singing, don't get angry with him. He just loves you as much as I do and wants to join you up there.

Lost and Found

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with all things Barbie. I had tons of supplies for her, so I really should never have wanted for any one piece. Nevertheless, I would spend countless moments digging in the box to find that one little high heel that was always in the bottom of all those doll clothes (even though I was sure that searched that one spot probably 4,000 times).  I would get frustrated to tears over that little pink shoe and I remember my mother telling me to put my energy into praying about it. I haven’t thought of that for years now, but I was reminded the other night. I was doing Bible time with Graham and at the end of the story of the olive oil, the boys’ study Bible suggested that we talk about how God can help us with ANYTHING, even the smallest of things. Before I realized it, I was sharing how I would pray over my Barbie box and feel better. I didn’t know it then, but my mother was teaching me to cast my anxieties on Him (1 Peter 5:7). Why has it taken me so long to see what was engrained in me at an early age? And why didn’t I ever go back to thank Momma for teaching me that?

 

My latest struggle has me once again digging in a box for answers. I am afraid that my mother’s life never allowed her to reach her purpose. I hate that word, purpose; the reason why one exists. And I hate the search for it; as if we don’t all have enough on our plates. I felt like something was due to my mother and that this sweeping motion would come to her to make all of her trials and tribulations worthwhile, and in turn she would impart that wisdom to the world (or at least my corner of it). But things never changed and she died. She died and nothing was solved or made better. Where is the sense in that? Lord, I trust you, but can you check that her death wasn’t scheduled for another time? Because I’m pretty sure that she is supposed to see my boys’ Christmas picture this year. And she and I were going to have a big conversation about some really important stuff. And I know that she was supposed to give my dad that Christmas present that we discovered she was working on. This is simply a mistake.

But it’s not. It’s real.

So, my Barbie plan is how I’m getting through right now. I’ve lost something, so I’m praying to God to calm my anxious heart. And, surprisingly, what I end up finding is answers to some of my questions.  Specifically right now about “purpose”. I have discovered that I don’t need to worry about mine because God has decided it and all I have to do is throw my hands up and let him direct me.  I’m a much happier person that way. And as far as my mother’s purpose, I need to remember that if she didn’t use those moments when I was frustrated over doll shoes to teach me to lean closer to Jesus, that I couldn’t share that with my husband and sons.  It seems small, but maybe it’s what’s largely important in this journey I’m on.  Right now I feel a giant pull to create something with what she left me. Part of that is tangible (I’m going to try to start sewing with her machine and left over fabric, so keep your fingers crossed for me) and the other part is untouchable while I try my best to do something substantial with the life she created when she made me.  I’m searching for much more than that missing Barbie piece…but I’m still praying through it because I’m pretty sure that’s the point of all of this.

 

Thoughts on Thanksgiving Pie

It's hard to believe that it is Thanksgiving. I absolutely love Turkey Day...the parades, the cooking, the feast, the Christmas kick-off.  This year Oliver is running around and chasing everyone he can while making growling noises. It was just a short year ago that he slept through his first Thanksgiving. Graham has been busy cooking...he's especially into perfecting the dressing this year...more bread he told me.  He has his own apron (thanks to a sweet friend) that has given him that extra edge in the kitchen lately. Mr. Jones is busy tinkering with something with the TV...apparently when we watch the parade tomorrow, it's really going to look and sound amazing (at least that's what we all better tell him or he'll do something else to it). I also have to give a special mention that my hubby smoked the turkey again this year. He makes a mean smoked turkey (and that's what we all better tell him so he gets that "tur-duck-en" idea out of his mind). I've been busy cooking all the non-smoked, non-turkey sides...or as Graham says, I'm in the cooking business as his helper.

It was two months ago that Momma passed away and I've been weaving around the idea of Thanksgiving ever since. I've stayed so busy and tried everything to dodge what is one of my favorite rituals each year. Well today I could no longer pretend it wasn't happening, and I opened up my recipe box. I flipped to the dessert section and ran my fingers along the only pale blue index cards out of the off-white rectangular bunch. I selected two cards, my mother's pumpkin paradise pie and pecan pie. And there was her handwriting. The shaky curves, the underlined emphasis on certain parts where she wanted me to pay close attention, and even the hearts that ended her exclamation points (yes, she used exclamation points in her recipes). What was not so obvious on those cards, but yet clearly there, is the fact that I will never again make these pies with her. Never again share them with her. Never again have her laugh at the time I put the pecan filling into the mixer and ended up with one runny pecan pie that year. And the lonely feeling that I had so dreaded surrounded me.

And almost instantly, the boys rush into the kitchen and Graham wants to help me with the pies. There is no time for sadness when you're teaching your little guy the art of pie. Through tear-drenched eyes, we mix and beat and roll. And we ended up with some pretty good-lookin' pies if I do say so myself. As empty as I feel, having her recipes fill the table tomorrow helps me. In fact, all of the people I love who won't be at my table still will be in some fashion...Teresa's corn casserole, Marie's mandarin orange salad, Dawn's sweet potatoes, Nannie's dressing, Brad's peppers...and Momma's pies. I'm thankful for the pieces of all of them that I will forever have with me. Happy Thanksgiving from the Jones family.

Bittersweet

I told myself that I wouldn't write anything again until I could write something positive. I have so much to be happy about that it should be pouring out of every vessel of self expression. However, I just haven't felt like putting on my happy pants. I finally realized that I can get close though...

I just got back from an *a-ma-zing* women's retreat. I listened to the fabulous Shauna Neiquist speak, encourage, read and lead. I'm currently tearing through her book, Bittersweet, which is largely about being thankful, open, strong, determined and growing during times of suffering. Obviously she wrote this book for me, although she forgot to dedicate it to me. We can all read between the lines, though. Well the word bittersweet won't leave me alone. I'm seeing it everywhere. Bittersweet. Bitter. Sweet. Bittersweet. Why do oxymorons such as this even exist? Why do they have to go together? Dare I even ask?

Bitter is harsh, sharp, disagreeable, unpleasant. I'd like to do without that, please. Sweet, however, sure. I like sweet's unelaborate definition: not bitter. Oh, well that sounds wonderful. Why must we mix them? The answer is simple...so that we truly appreciate what is sweet. We often forget that. Or at least I do. I get it, but I forget it. Maybe it's just that I flat out ignore it. All worthwhile experiences in my life are bittersweet. Marriage is love, companionship, holding hands, feeling giddy, waking up with your soulmate. Marriage is also him leaving his shoes right there, watching Pawn Stars, and compromising when you clearly know you are always the right one. A little bittersweet I'd say. Motherhood is sweet kisses, hearing 'Mommy', seeing your eyes in another person. It is also losing sleep, runny noses, stepping on Matchbox cars, and being thrown up on or just having something thrown at you. Definitely bittersweet. Death is loss, pain, emptiness, stinging reality, finality. It also means that if you feel that, you felt love. What is more bittersweet than that? If you can see through the veil that is pain that the bitter brings for just a moment, the sweet is oh-so-wonderful. It's not just chocolate cake. It's chocolate cake that you made with your own hands and baked to perfection. The best kind.

I've decided that life is like the coffee I drink each morning. Straight up it is not at all comforting. It's disgusting. With too much creamer, I don't likely pick it up again; it's just not that enjoyable. When I find the perfect mix...the bitter coffee sweetened just enough....well that's what makes me get out of bed. I just have to trust that each day will have the due balance of each. When the day seems a little too much, I will reach out. Bittersweet. Thanks for reminding me of this, Shauna.

Fall-ing

So much of what makes me happy is wrapped up in the word "fall". I love the crisp, cool air in the mornings. I love the baking, the changing leaves, setting up decorations, and picking out sweaters. I spend three other seasons of the year patiently waiting for this one. There is this slow dwindling of daylight outside of my window each night now and I can see my trees swaying gently. Everyone I know is buzzing about the fact that it is actually going to be jacket weather this weekend. Fall is definitely here.

Right now, my life is definitely wrapped up in fall, but one of a different sort. The kind of fall that doesn't bring comfort. The kind of fall with bitter cold and stinging reality. The fall with sorrow attached. This one, too, brings change, but it is of course unwanted. My phone rang with the label "Mom" again today. For a brief second my heart leaped, but it was reminded of the truth and fell. When I try to understand why or grasp on to something, I can't...I just fall. The term 'falling' refers to a sensation. The term 'sensation' refers to a feeling. A 'feeling' is an awareness. If you are aware, informed, knowledgeable, you should be able to move up, not down. It just isn't so right now.

When my little guy, Graham, sees me crying, he tells me not to because Nana is still at the "little white house". In his reality, there's no need to be upset when you haven't lost anything. His reference to the funeral home may be inaccurate, but he is once again correct that you can't lose what's in your heart. This weekend, for the cooler weather, I plan on making my mom's caramel pecan cinnamon rolls with my sister. My mother made them every autumn. I vividly remember the morning I was in seventh grade and my mom woke us up to tell us there was a fall coolness in the air and she had made us the caramel pecan cinnamon rolls to celebrate it. Of course, they take a couple of hours to make so she had been up quite a while. That's in my heart along with so much more, so even though I'm falling, I know I can see the season through.

The New Normal

My house is clean. The kiddos have fresh laundry picked out. Our mail is out of the mailbox. There are a hundred other things that I accomplished this week that would be classified as normal. I know that's a good thing, but it feels so foreign to me right now. You see, right now I'm in a room with no lights on; I know they're out but I can't convince everyone else of it. The world around me is continuing and I'm trying to tell them that's impossible, but they just won't listen. Instead, they tell me my mother has been buried for over a week now. They tell me that life is moving on and I'm being strong and that it will all be better soon. I cover my ears because I know that's not true.

I miss my mother for so many reasons. I think about how there is no one else left in the whole earth that can recall the day I was born. No one knows about my first hair cut. No one can tell me if I was three or if I was four that Christmas on the way to church, I fell down on the ice, scrapped my knee and ripped my pretty white tights. The one who knew those stories is gone. I desperately want to be seven again. I want to sit under the tree in my Nannie's front yard and hear her tell me that she loves to hear me make up little songs like Momma used to. I was in such a hurry to grow up and move on, but I wish there were a few pieces I could have back. I laugh to think that I would ever want to return. Even though it will never make sense to most of the people in my life currently, I have a bunch of unresolved scars from my childhood. I have hurts that I never quite learned how to box up. Sometimes the house that built you is full of cracks, but it's still yours.

God told us in Luke 12 that he knows the hairs numbered on our heads. Isn't that an amazing thought? That in the millions of people who pass you by, know nothing of you, there is still one who knows your heart and mind. I pray now that he searches my heart and knows my anxious thoughts like in Psalm 139 and carries me through. If you've spent much time with me, you know I've always struggled with giving it to God. I never meant to, but if you've never had much control, it's hard to throw your hands up and tell him to take it. My whole life must have been a dress rehearsal for trusting God because right now there is no question of whether or not I can. I can only put one foot in front of the other because he's carrying me. Even though my eyes are shut tight, wanting to pretend it will all go away, I can see because Christ is my light.

My new normal is anything but. It's not at all what I want or what I asked for. And I know one day it will be...that's just hard to grasp right now. Luckily, God doesn't ask us to have it all figured out. He just tells in Proverbs 3:5 to trust him with all our heart and lean not on our own understanding. For today, that's the only thing that feels normal.

Take good care of my baby...

Another blessing has been sent to the Jones' house. I been sending the Lord my deepest hopes for THE best teacher for Mr. Graham. The kid's only 3 but, man, I tell ya, when it's your baby everything is major. Once I found out that he actually has THE best teacher, it was as if I just found out that he made the varsity football team. He's in. In that room. THE one! With THE teacher! And I have how many years left of wondering if he'll get THE right teacher for him?? And Oliver, too? I'd better have one of those "Lord, it's me again..." conversations tonight....

This all made me think about the kiddos in my own classroom, and God's part in sending me my students each year. This is my 8th class. Times that by over 20 students each year, and you end up with a pretty big bunch of kiddos....kiddos with parents that trusted that I would love, protect, encourage, and of course, teach their children. And then when you start breaking down all of the fine little details of teaching (challenging, motivating, promoting, designing, etc) I really start to realize that I probably owe a lot of parents apologies and I should go ahead and start thanking every teacher that *may* even come in contact with my children.

To any teachers that will shape my sons' lives, make them feel important, help them look at something new, want them to embrace their faults and learn from them, and love on them for who they are, thank you in advance for taking care of my babies. And to THE teacher who will do that for Mr. Graham this year, I already appreciate you more than you know.

The gift of walking

My little Oliver started walking this week. For whatever reason, seeing your baby walk is not classified as a wonder of the world, but it should be. Nothing makes you happier, yet sobbing like a lunatic quite like those first steps.

Well this morning I was doing my Bible study and Oliver was practicing his newly discovered talent. I usually do my Bible time when the kiddos are not awake so that I avoid adult ADD, but it didn't work out that way today. I was reading and he was walking. Let me rephrase that. He was walking and I was trying to read.  Needless to say I was getting a little distracted. He's just so cute. His chubby little legs take a few steps, his legs wobble, he tries to balance. You can tell he's timid about the whole thing, yet excited at the same time. And when he falls, he laughs and gets up and does it again. So innocent and so adorable.

Well God took me right where I was today. I've been reading about Barnabas and Paul in Acts. Until a couple of weeks ago, I'm not sure I knew who Barnabas really was, despite 28 years in church. However, he's my new fascination. He was an encourager, and in a lot of ways more of a behind the scenes kind of guy. Yet God used him in so many ways. It's so easy to focus on the smallness of our lives...things we don't even think of as monumental at all...washing dishes, folding the laundry...walking. However, by accepting where we are, giving thanks for these small, minute details, praising God for the gifts we have instead of waiting for something bigger to come, we glorify Him. It's easy to look at the person sitting beside you and compare their walk of life to your own wobbly advances. You think, wow, God's got something big in store for them. Their steps are important, but mine aren't, so I will just stay still. I know I personally have wondered how God would ever use me and my little life. Well the answer is right in front of me; He already is using me. I don't know His plan, but when I just open up myself up to Him, walk in faith with Him, I will see what He has in store for me. And I will be happy right where I am. It's just like Oliver's little steps this morning. You trust God's plan...take a few steps. Your legs wobble...you keep trusting and keep going. And when you fall on your butt, laugh, and view it as a gift to be able to start over again. You don't sit there upset that you're just learning to walk and others are running. You just keep at it, happy for the moment and the opportunity. And even if these little steps mean nothing to the big, giant world (they may never even know it!), it does impact those around you, and that alone is enough for me.

Pride and Prejudice...and I don't mean the book or movie

This summer I had the opportunity to be part of THE best Bible study. I read A Modern Girls' Guide to Bible Study by Jen Hatmaker. If you've never heard of Jen, she is worth googling, for sure! If you've never heard of this book, it is worth reading, for sure! This helped me find joy in the Word that I'd been missing for a long time. Even though I've been finished with the book for awhile now, its techniques have continued to help me approach the Bible with fresh eyes and more importantly, fresh ears.

Well, you can't expect to delve into the Word and not end up learning about yourself. When you start listening to the Holy Spirit, you're going to catch an earful. I've recently been reading Acts and the theme of encouraging others. There is also a mini-theme, if you will, of prejudice. Now this is often a word I quickly put into two categories...1. I'm not prejudiced; I would never judge someone on their skin color, religion, etc.,  and 2. how sad that some people are. So there. I wrapped that concept up neatly and tied it with a "I'm not guilty" bow. Oh, but not so fast. Delve deeper. When you break it down, prejudice is just labeling and categorizing others. Oh. Well, I do that. I don't readily admit to it, but I do that. A lot of us do if we're being honest. This is that part of Bible study where my eyes start looking from side to side and my head and shoulders go down a little...you know the spotlight is on and you can't run from it. It's scary, but if you allow yourself to face it, you end up with one of the best feelings ever. So, I face it. Am I prejudice? Again, not glaringly so. I don't judge on your race, your religion (the two big ones that people think of when they hear prejudice). However, I'm most comfortable with people who act just like me. I usually put some sort of label on it like "it's because we share the same interests". It's just because it's easy. Being around people who act like me is nice...there's not much work to accept that because I've already accepted it in myself! I just push away anyone who would require some work of acceptance. If your personality is aggressive-tell-it-like-it-is, I label you as mean and wash my hands of you. If you're meek and never speak, I categorize you as not like me and just walk the other way. Instead, I need to accept we may have some differences, but it isn't something to be scared of...it's something to embrace.

No matter the situation, I am a person that walks with the figurative arm stretched out in front of me (please don't come any closer than that).  Like half of the world, I have some trust issues. When you think about trust it is really synonymous with hope and faith. Well God gives that to me, so who am I to not return it? It's time for me to allow myself to place some faith and hope in others...get closer to those who God put in my life. If I get bruised a little, God will be there to help me through. I'm going to put the guard down and focus on letting others get closer, regardless of whether we are personality twins or polar opposites. We can't be more like Christ with conditions, so I'm letting mine go.

Take me away...

Do you ever have those cringe-worthy moments that happen solely due to you own really-really-out-there-ness? Well I did yesterday (I say that like its a rarity). I had invited a friend over and when she came, I apparently didn't hear her text, knock at the door, and ring the doorbell, so she naturally had to leave. About 20 minutes later I'm wondering where she is, completely oblivious to all.  How does that happen? Especially when the room you're in is so near the door. I have this saying that my life is a series of "that awkward moment" scenarios all put together. Well, to forget my often air-headed goofs, I often escape the moment by looking at other blogs, aka "domestic blog therapy". There's just something about reading about another person's life that is so fulfilling. It feels classier than reality TV, but let's face it, we're addicted to that too. Since you're reading this, you probably feel the same as I do (about blogs, not that awkward life moments part...I'm sure that's just me). Well,  I wanted to share with you my favorite blog. If it's possible to have a crush on a blog, then that's the way I feel towards this blog. The writer is a teacher (like me),  has 2 little boys (like me), and is addicted to Pinterest (maybe like me). She cracks me up and shares the best recipes. I highly recommend checking it out the next time you need a little "domestic blog therapy".

Blog address: http://pearls-handcuffs-happyhour.blogspot.com/

Here's a picture of the Lemonade Cake (recipe from this blog). I made mine in baby bundts with only the glaze (no additional frosting), and topped it with strawberries. Yum-mo!

Life is just a bowl of cherries...or at least family night is

Y'all, I thought I'd be blogging about Christmas in July right about now. You see, in this house, I'm famous for my theme nights. I'm not popular for them, but I'm known for them. Christmas in July (setting out selected Christmas items, cooking a winter meal, and watching a Christmas movie) is the big annual event, at least for me. Unfortunately, Mr. Jones does not like pictures from the event. Probably because I make us wear Christmas pajamas. In July. It makes me happy, what can I say? Well, this year I ended up with ONE photo and it's blurry, so I'm going to tell you about another theme night. We've actually had several recently...one that really stands out is my Pride and Prejudice night. We watched the movie and I named food after the characters (like Mr. Darcy's stuffed olives...get it? 'cause he's stuffy?) Anyway, this one here was a recent cute one too...

Graham is really into board games this summer and received several for his birthday. One of my favorites is High Ho Cherry-O. So, for a recent family night we played that game and HAD to have something cherry themed. There are few cherry dishes I enjoy, but one of them is a childhood favorite, Cherry Salad (a lovely dessert with an unfortunate name). Everytime I eat this dish, I think  of my birthdays as a kid and my sister. I remember the two of us making fajitas and cherry salad for just about every birthday for the longest time. I don't know why fajitas had to be with cherry salad, but they just complimented each other so nicely (as I think my sis and I do). Well we would EAT UP some cherry salad and fajitas, and I knew it was the perfect companion for the High Ho Cherry-O family night. Here's the recipe if you'd like to make it...

Cherry Salad

1 large tub cool whip
1 cup sugar
2-8 oz. pkgs. of cream cheese
1 t. vanilla
1 can of cherry pie filling
3-4 bananas, sliced

Begin by sitting out your cream cheese to soften. You definitely don't want lumpy cherry salad! Then combine your cream cheese and sugar in a mixing bowl and mix until smooth. No lumps! Slowly add in your cool whip a little at a time. Once all mixed together, add your vanilla and mix until everything is blended together. Go ahead and taste this because this is the best part.

Now what you're gonna do is add a generous layer of your cream cheese/cool whip mixture into the bottom of a large bowl. Add some bananas on top and then some cherry pie filling. Keep repeating this tri-layering technique until all ingredients are gone.

Make your top layer the cream cheese mixture...I am telling you, this is some good stuff. Yumm-o!

Playing High Ho Cherry-O is an optional serving suggestion!

TURKquoise and CAICOS

We are back to reality now. Mr. Jones and I traveled to Turks and Caicos (aka Caribbean Paradise) for our 5th wedding anniversary. In so many ways five years is nothing...a drop in the bucket...so small. But in other ways, it's gigantic...life changing...everything. Five years have brought love, happiness, falling in and letting go, trying new things and losing others, two little boys and my life as I currently know it. When you think of that way and see it through my eyes, it's a big deal...at least to me.

Going on this trip, I had a lot of time to relax and think. And you have not appreciated time to think until you are on a beach listening to the waves staring at the most beautiful water ever. It brings a peace like none other. Well my mind being what it is, my thoughts started at how pretty everything was...from the white sand and shells to the multitude of colors that was the reef and fish not far from my hotel, all the way down to my toes painted in "Turkqoise and Caicos" polish (did I buy it because of the name?...maybe...). Well then my thoughts started to evolve as they tend to do and I started asking myself,  "How is all this beauty like my own life?" At first glance it's not. I mean if you could see the pile up of toys beside my feet, it is anything but tranquil. The hum of the dishwasher is not exactly parallel to the swish of the wind through the coconut trees. But when I dig deeper, this paradise that I speak of and my little home are the same. God designed both intimately.  Joy, contentment, passion, and beauty surround me. The forgiveness, acceptance, and faithfulness that I receive from my husband...the purity and humility of my children...the safety and warmth of the walls around me. Once again, God is showing me what I have. Although it is much easier to look at one as bliss and the other as responsibility, God focused my eyes and reminded me of Philippians 4:12 "I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Kind of reminds me of the ebb and flow of that beautiful water I was staring at earlier.

So, as I said, we are back to reality now. I am going to work hard on reminding myself what a gift it all is. So thankful for the five years of reality with Mr. Jones and can't wait to see what the next 5 hold.

An enchanting evening...

As you've probably heard, Nora Ephron recently passed away. She was a fabulous writer and director of some of my favorite movies (and probably some of yours too). In memory of Nora Ephron, we had a "You've Got Mail" movie "date" last night. We even ordered Chinese food in since that felt New Yorky to me. If you've never seen the movie, it is a quirky little number that is an awesome chick flick (or a perfect film to rope your husband into watching a few dozen times, as in my case). As many of my friends so often hear, I love to quote random movies, and several that I quote are Nora Ephron films. My favorites are "You've Got Mail" and "Mixed Nuts" (another random film, but seriously entertaining). I remember the first time I watched "You've Got Mail"...isn't that silly that I have that memory? I rented it as a freshman in high school (I'm really quite young) and I remember working on a science project and thinking that I can't wait to have the kind of cutesy love that this couple has in the film. I loved how everyone described things as enchanting in the movie, and I loved Tom Hanks' 'regular' guy attitude, and I loved the daisies in all the green vases in Meg Ryan's apartment (there is actually a replica sitting on my desk now as I type this...I'm a dork, what can I say).  Well, I'm grown now and thankfully not working on any homework, but I am thankful that I have my big screen-worthy romance. And I'm thankful to Nora Ephron for her awesome work.

3 at the Sea...Sea World that is...

Let me begin this post by announcing right now that a BUNCH of photos follow. I know it's just a three year old's birthday, but it's my three year old. I am one of those people, even at 28, that loves my birthday. Well, I love my kiddos' birthdays more. It's a celebration of life like no other. Every year for Graham's birthday we have a theme centered around his age (One in the Sun...Two at the Zoo...). Well this year was three at the Sea...Sea World that is! The nice thing about his summer birthday is that we can usually combine any birthday plans with a family trip. This year we loaded up Mimi and PawPaw's "Bon-Bon" (as Graham refers to their Suburban) and headed to San Antone (when you're from Texas you can use nicknames like that). Here are some pics of the celebration...

 

On our first night on the Riverwalk, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe. Mimi and PawPaw bought Graham a guitar in the marketplace earlier and he carried that thing around all night. In the Hard Rock he put on a Fedora and sang and danced while we waited for a table. He had the attention of many.

On Graham's actual birthday we got to Sea World early and went to feed the dolphins. I limited my 800 photos of the dolphins down to just this one. If you are unaware of my love affair with this animal, please let me tell you the story sometime. It has to do with me, my honeymoon, and a little unofficial award I received while swimming with the dolphins in Mexico...I digress...

Next we stopped at the awesome aquariums. Very cool.

I seriously don't know why we bought this kid any toys. He would have been fine with a box of Coca-Cola. That's the memory he will be taking away of Sea World..."the day I swindled a bunch of my family into buying me way too much soda..."

We saw some amazing shows. I now want to be a killer whale trainer.

How cute is this guy?

We ended the Sea World experience by stopping at some gift shops. Mimi and PawPaw super spoiled the boys...I mean toys, hats, cups...these kids got it all. I'm sure Mimi and PawPaw really appreciate the picture of them with the Beluga Whale. They were trying to get Graham to stand by the whale. He wouldn't. They did. Hence, the picture.

I worked a little too hard on the decor for this little celebration. I might have roped Mr. Jones into helping me make a gazillion "Sea Water" bottles complete with a snorkel straw only to find out Sea World doesn't allow straws inside. Whatever. I resisted the urge to tell them "But, wait, these are safe. I got this idea from Pinterest, so it has to be okay!!". Somehow I didn't think it would pass.

We then celebrated the evening at Landry's Seafood. YUMMO! Seriously, good! The birthday boy walked away with a real stash of gifts.The loot included a tent, a guitar, handbells, microphones, Legos, and games. Surprisingly, no one purchased noise-blocking earbuds for Mommy...maybe next year.

It was Aunt T's idea to let Graham cut the cake with his new sword. No wonder he loves her.

 After dinner we walked around off the Riverwalk. This picture is of the Emily Morgan hotel. If you've never heard the stories associated with it, check it out. Ghost stories to the max. Not that I believe in ghost stories, but they are still cool to hear. I'm super fascinated with this place, but too scared to stay there. When Graham first saw the hotel he asked me why it had wings. What?! Is he trying to make me drive home tonight?!?! We went inside briefly, which is a whole other story involving Graham crashing a private party...possibly the first time I thought of leaving my child and running in the opposite direction.

We did visit the Alamo. We tried to tell the boys the history. I'm not sure what all they retained.

I also had to post this pic. We bought the boys Sea World pajamas and whale stuffed animals. Yes, the gift shop saw the flashing "suckers" sign above our heads.

So, there you have it. A wonderful celebration for our little guy. So happy to have him.

PS-He is officially potty trained. What an event that was. I seriously want to hug every parent's neck in the world that has survived potty training and just have a moment with them to appreciate what they've done. Sure, you made a child. But, you potty trained him, too? Now that's a real celebration.

When I grow up...

My little guy is turning 3 on Friday (expect a big post later about all the cutesy details that makes up his um, celebration, as I'm calling it). So today, I decided to ask him what he wanted to be when he grows up. Well, after a few moments of looking at me like I was completely wasting his time, he responded by telling me "Mommy". Let's face it...I've trained my almost-3-year old that the answer to all of my silly questions, Who is your favorite person?, Who makes the best brownies? Who has the best hair?...is Mommy. When I let him know I wanted a REAL answer, he got more aggitated and told me that he doesn't know, but he will go to work and I can come with him, and he is probably going to buy a car from where Daddy works. As any mother would, I go into oh-no-my-child-hasn't-chosen-a-life-path mode and instantly tried to talk to him about all sorts of wonderful career paths he can choose from. At one moment I may have mentioned the term engineering. To a child enjoying his last days as a 2 year old. Let's just get it together, Mrs. Jones. It made me giggle (yes, I giggle) to think of this little boy growing up. Good grief, I remember this child's first day of life and the long nine months before then. Mr. Jones and I picked out Graham's name when I was watching the movie "The Holiday" and we both mentioned that we liked Jude Law's character's name, Graham. So, when I picture Graham grown up, I picture him looking like Jude Law...hopefully not acting like him, hence the let's-explore-our-career-options-at-age-3 discussion. Then I giggled even harder when I thought about what I would say if he asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up (which he didn't, because I was WAY more into this conversation than he was). Well, the first thought that popped into my head was Kate Middleton (my brain INSTANTLY screamed GET REAL) and my immediate next thought was Meryl Streep. I mean, how calm, cool, and collected is Meryl Streep? Yes, most definitely sticking with that one. So there you have it, I will one day be Meryl and Graham, Jude Law. As for Mr. Jones and Oliver, they have decided that too much growing up is unnecessary, and I'm not going to argue with them. It would be so un-Meryl of me.

PS-Speaking of someone I want to be when I grow up, take a look at our recent family night...Pioneer Woman themed. Mr. Jones did a dramatic reading of The Pioneer Woman's book Charlie the Ranch Dog (Graham is obsessed with this book) and I made a mean batch of Sour Cream Enchiladas courtesy of The Pioneer Woman.

PPS-As of June 6th, Oliver is finally saying Mommy!! Yes! Now I can ask him silly questions...

Keeping up with the Joneses...

It has been pretty hard to keep up with the Joneses lately...at least the two younger ones. It's amazing how much Oliver has changed. One minute he's my little guy who needs me to rock him to sleep and the next he's cruising independently around the house. Let's see, on May 18th he decided to crawl for the first time...

The pic is a little blurry, but once he started movin' it was hard to keep him still for an instant...

Then the next day, literally, Mr. Man decided to sprout a tooth and then two days later another. In between he started saying Dada. If you look really closely you can see those bottom teeth. He's a little grumpy here because I keep trying to photograph his mouth and apparently that's annoying.

Graham has been obsessed with making lemonade lately. Drinking it? Not so much. But he wants to make a new pitcher almost daily, so I'm downing it as fast as I can. He is just too cute in that apron...

Okay, this picture pertains to nothing, but look how cute he is...I *might* be a little obsessed at staring at the boys while they sleep.

Then we had the boys' dedication at church. Here's their screen shot. Beautiful day. So lucky to be their mommy.

Of course Mr. Jones has been busy too. He had a little birthday and I must say he's the handsomest 33 year old I know. In his spare time he's working on the Trans Am....

When I'm not enjoying my guys, I've been baking a little. These are cake batter cookies from Pinterest. I made them for our church group last night and it totally earned me some cred as a baker. They are yummy!

Can't wait to see what all this summer vay-cay holds!

When life hands you lemons...

This is the sight sitting on my counter right now. I have always wondered why people in movies have lemons sitting on their counters. I mean who goes and buys lemons and doesn't plan an immediate use for them? Well I got my answer this week...people who shop at Costco. I recently purchased a big 'ol bag of lemons at the wholesale supergiant and after making fresh lemonade, I still had a bunch left...hence the picture-perfect countertop.

Well all week long I would pass these lemons. At first I just thought "Wow. This kitchen is so preppy." After that thought got old, I was reminded of the "If life hands you lemons, make lemonade" quote. I've always thought that was a cute saying, but as I repeated it in my head about 7,000 times this week, I grew a little tired of it. Of course, as I'm least expecting it, God begins working on me...through lemons of all things! I would repeat that quote in my head and then hear this "and what are you doing about it?" question in my head.

I'm a notorious pessimist. My church is focusing on being apathetic right now...a message series once again focused on me. (As a side note, I'm sorry to those who attend my church. It must be annoying to keep showing up just to find out that they're aiming the lesson to me one more time.) I know I easily fall into apathy. I lead this small life where repetition is key. Wake up. Take care of things. Go to bed. Start over. It's easy to miss the joy in it all. Don't get me wrong. I KNOW how lucky I am. A wonderful husband. Perfect (okay, near perfect) children. Cozy home. Rewarding job. But, it's easy to get caught up in the idea of "if I have to change one more diaper...is that really another spot on the carpet...seriously this bill is due again". Now sprinkle in the devil's handiwork of making me think I'm not good enough and you're left with apathy.

I type all this to say, I'm rejecting apathy. If you give me lemons, I'm giving you lemonade...and it's gonna be tasty. And you know why? Because that's what God wants me to do. I am really striving to be intentional with finding the joy in the mundane...the happiness in the repetition...the love in the details. So, I'm reminded of another quote. I'm always quoting movies and this one has been in my head this week from "You've Got Mail"..."I lead a small life. Well, valuable but small." I made lead this little life tucked away from glitz and glamour...my Saturday evenings may involve vaccuuming the carpets, but I'm so grateful for it. I hope I'm continously reminded of this.

Now I'm off to chop vegetables for dinner. A long and tedious task, but I am actally excited to make dinner tonight. I'm so blessed to have a family to serve...now if I can only get Mr. Graham to eat it, all will be right with the world. At least over here in this house.

Earning my mom badge

Soooo, I may have been given a test of my dedication to being a mother in the last 24 hours. I'm confident in saying I'm "all in" this motherhood thing.

The day started with Graham waking early--super excited that I was going to the mommy party at his school. I had arranged everything (or so I thought) so that I could make the Muffins with Mom celebration. I have been so ready for this for a long time. I treasure every Mommy-moment I get and this was going to be the big one...until I arrived at the preschool to be greeted by Graham wanting to just go home. But, what about my muffins? And tea? And those paper flowers that the kids are passing out to their moms? And the kiss that we practiced that you were going to give me in public? I tried everything I could, but no luck. I had to leave...crying of course because that's what Mommy's do when they think miss the Mommy-moment.


After we got home this afternoon, I could tell Graham needed a little one-on-one time when he suggested just me and him go away together in Daddy's old Trans Am (what can I say, he's a car guy). My supportive husband thought we might all benefit from a night out for dinner. We really did have a great evening until Graham got sick all over me---at the restaurant. A load of laundry, a teeth-scrubbing, and major bathtime later, Graham informed me that he didn't have a good day because he "no wanted to leave the house this morning". Just as I was thinking, "me too, kiddo", he put his arms around me and told me "Mommy i wuv ew" and asked me to play cars with him. As I raced the Hot Wheels around the living room with Graham and Oliver laughing hysterically at my vroom-vrooms, I realized I didn't miss the Mommy-moment after all. This one just didn't come with muffins. :)

A picture of my flower and tile made by Graham. There are two new charms from Ollie on my bracelet, a onesie with his name and birthdate and an owl.

I want to go on the date

Well tonight it was just "me and Mrs. Jones" as Robert and I headed out for date night. Mimi and Grandpa were gracious enough to watch the boys. We were all set to go when Graham had a mini-meltdown, insisting "I want to go on the date." He had all sorts of questions like "Where is the date?" "When we go on the date?" as well as the repetitive comment "Only I go on the date." On the ride to the grandparents house, Robert tried to persuade him that he really didn't want to go on the date because it was like Dancing With the Stars (a reference to something Graham finds annoying). This sent him further off the edge when he insisted that "HE NO DANCE WITH THOSE STARS." Needless to say, we were getting farther in the hole. We ended up smoothing things over by convincing him he was indeed going on a date...with Oliver, Mimi, and Grandpa (which ended up actually being a date to McDonald's to make Graham happy, but that's another story involving how spoiled he is by his grandparents...)

Anyhoo, we did go on THE DATE and we had a great time. We went to Studio Movie Grill to see The Five Year Engagement. My favorite part was when one of the parents talked about marriage and how most couples aren't even 60% "right" for each other, but they still choose to fall in love with each other over and over again and make it work. So happy with my hubby (and boys that did not attend this date), and although he could probably find someone much more "right" for him, I'm glad it was me he took on the date.

A Beary Nice Family Night (Get it?!)

So, every Sunday evening we have "family night", where we do a special activity with the boys (not that we don't do fun things the other 6 nights of the week, but you know what I mean...). Well, Oliver just got his first teddy bear after church today. Now Graham's bear is Buddy Bearington (he's the one wearing underwear in the picture) and we named Ollie's Hooty Bearington. I picture Buddy as the literary type and Hooty is more of the rebel. But, I digress...tonight we picked out bear-themed books and read with the boys and the bears. Graham's book of choice was "The Very Cranky Bear" and Oliver devoured (in more than one sense of the word) the board book "Baby Bear, Baby Bear".  The guys also colored me a bear Mother's Day picture. So blessed!

Keeping Up With the Joneses-May 5th

Well, I've started a blog for the family. Robert is working, so it's just me and the boys. Graham has been playing with toys and Oliver is trying so hard to crawl.

So, what will I be blogging? Well, Robert told me I should share the personal elements about everything we are making or made..from a new recipe down to our kiddos. Sounds silly, but basically I'm just going to share tidbits about what we're doing...playing, working, praising God, cooking, cleaning...in general, OUR LIFE! We're a lucky bunch.