Don't touch my snacks.
The place to come for news, updates and general nonsense from the daily life of the Jones family!
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Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Pack it up, pack it in. Let me begin.
Now on the the real business at hand. I've been avoiding this post for nearly three weeks. I don't know why. I only know of a few people who read these posts regularly, and you all already know what's going on in my life anyway. As for you lurkers (yes, I see your hits!) if you must continue lurking, you're going to get the mundane, sad, and/or slightly personal stuff along with the photos of my adorable kid and tales of her antics. That's just the way I blogroll. Or something.
Vague enough for you?
The thing is I still love the people I worked with and think the company is amazing. I believe in who the are and what they do. I don't want to be specific because I don't ever want to come off like I'm bad-mouthing anyone. I suppose all I really want is to vent a little. No matter how a job ends, it comes out feeling a little like a break-up. Just like in a break-up, the other person can have the best of intentions and sincerely say, "It's not you, it's me." Still, the one who's been dumped wonders "maybe it's at least a little bit me".
I have an unwavering and sometimes irrational need to believe that everything happens for a reason. Not in a "The Secret" sort of "you brought your terminal illness on yourself with your negative thoughts" kind of way. It's more a desperate need to learn something from even the stinkiest of experiences. No matter what's going on I want to feel like someday I'm going to look back and think, "Nope, that situation still totally sucked. But at least I learned X, Y & Z from it." More than anything I want to believe that if I keep an open mind and a good attitude, there's a little seed of something good in even the worst situation. Even if I don't see it right away.
I learned a long time ago that I'm not in control of nearly anything in my life. I mean seriously. Who can guarantee that they'll even take the next breath they need to live? If I didn't already have a firm grasp on my lack of control, having a kid certainly cemented that little lesson in my mind quickly! Can I get a show of hands on how many moms have successfully made their newborn stop a three hour crying session? Didn't think so. I think Norah was about 7 months old when I first saw her, "I know you just said no, but I'm gonna go ahead with my plan anyway." look. I have no more control over the happenings in my life than I do over what color the sun turns the sky when it sets. It's just too big for me to have any measurable say in it.
The biggest thing is that I'm trying to remember who is in control. Perhaps it stands to reason that my response to a given situation is all that I can control, but that reasoning leaves out a huge component. God. While I'm doing all I can to remain in control of my emotions, there is One who sees a much more complete picture than I do. He's not some fairy godmother who pops on the scene to work things out when I get into a jam. He's there with me every step of the way. He sees the end from the beginning. The only thing that I'm truly in control of is my choice to trust Him. I love my mom's explanation of this choice. She gave it to me before I had Norah, but I like to personalize it a little bit now.
When Norah and her daddy are going somewhere, she reaches up for him. She continues walking on her own power but she knows she's going with Daddy. Once she wraps her little hand around his finger she doesn't ask if he's going to lead her off a cliff. She doesn't worry that he'll push her out in traffic. In a parking lot, it's Daddy who stops and waits for the cars. When she feels him move again she knows it's safe. From her perspective, things might look a little different than they do to Daddy, but if she keeps her hand in his she doesn't have to worry about getting there safely. When her hand leaves his she can be off in a different direction before she even knows it (can I get an amen!?!). Most of the time, she doesn't even know where the final destination is. She wouldn't be able to go the right direction on her own if she tried! What Norah can control is her grip on Daddy. As far as the rest of the journey goes, well, that's Daddy's job.
There's not much I can control in this life. Life has proven that to me over and over. So, I'm packin' up my baggage - such as it is - and I'm going along for the ride. As long as I keep my hand firmly in Daddy's I'm pretty sure we'll end up where we're supposed to. And maybe if I'm good we'll get ice cream on the way.
Apron Giveaway!
Step 1 - Marry a man who loves to cook and does it well.
Step 2 - Tell him he does a good job.
I do, however, bake. I actually enjoy it and I'm getting better all the time - which is saying something when you live at 9,000 feet. So when I saw this giveaway linked on my friend's blog, I figured why not? I mean, a little inspiration in the kitchen never hurt anyone (food poisoning aside) and I always do things better when I look fabulous doing them. Hence, my rhinestone studded rubber gloves for toilet cleaning. Ha. So here's the super cute apron I'd like to win:

Anyway, head on over to http://thesuburbanjungle.blogspot.com. There are several ways to earn more than one entry in the giveaway. I've avoided Twitter so far, but for those of you who Tweet, following the site gets you at least one extra entry. You can also earn FIVE entries for blogging about the giveaway. Humm.... what a coincidence.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Christmas is for Grown-Ups Too!?!
A) I love the vases my dad gave us for Christmas this year
B) I realized that I didn't really make any mention in my Christmas posts about how our Christmas went (just Norah's)
C) My kitchen is clean!!
Mark got me a bouquet just before I left for California. Even several days after I came back, these hearty little flowers and pieces of greenery were still going strong. I hated to throw them out just because the main flowers were dead. Then I remembered these vases! They're called ikebana vases. They have a tiny little well for water that has spikes in it to hold your flowers. I fill the well with one of Norah's old medicine syringes that we don't use any more. As you can see, the vases work best with stiff-stemmed flowers.
If you'd like a vase (or two) to add to your decorational repertoire let me know. I know where you can get 'em!
Close to Home
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
New Developments
Friday, January 15, 2010
Final Pictures of 2009
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Scarfin' it!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Goal Posts
Fake Legal Disclaimer: If by some miracle/practical joke of God a second Jones child enters the family this year, said miracle baby will be allotted a pro-rated amount of posts (in addition to the posts already committed to above) in the percentage corresponding with the percentage of this year that the child will be alive. The gestation period will count as 1/2 post for Mom and 1/2 for baby. But seriously, if I was going to have a baby this year, I'd basically have to get pregnant in the next two months and that is SO not happening!
Christmas in Review
It was Norah's second Christmas, but this time she actually participated. I don't think I got a picture of it but she was very good about making sure that all of the paper scraps got into the trash. She'd pull one off and immediately hand it to my brother, the designated trash man. Since she's the only kid, only grandkid and only great-grandkid on Daddy's side, she was pretty overwhelmed by the amount of presents. She managed to get through her stocking and two or three presents before going down for a two and a half hour nap. Then she opened about half of what she had before we decided to wait on he rest until the next day. So here are a few of my favorites:Friday, January 1, 2010
The Tao of Tinkerbell
I mentioned a couple of posts ago that Norah is daily expanding her vocabulary. Well according to my friend Jan, that expansion now includes other languages! Jan was Norah’s Sunday School teacher last week and she told me later that the “meow” sound that Norah makes for what a cat says is exactly the correct pronunciation for the Chinese word for “cat”. Jan should know. She spent a few years in China while her husband worked there and is fluent inseveral Chinese words. J
Along with expanding the number of words that she knows, she’s also improving the clarity with which she says them. I have to admit that this makes me a little sad. When your child is first learning to talk, you begin to understand their mispronunciations and quirks so that you can interpret what they’re saying. It almost like you have a secret family language for a while. As “No-no” turns to “Nonah” morphs into “Norah” and “beesh” becomes “peese” and then “please”, we are losing a little bit of that exclusive ability to communicate with her. As our babbling baby becomes a talking toddler we don’t always need to be her translator to the world any more. It’s one of the earliest in many thousands of steps toward independence that parents simultaneously hope for and dread.
There is one word that she uses consistently that still requires interpretation for those who “don’t speak the language”. She mispronounces it every single time. I’m not even sure how she came up with the way she says it. It must be a disconnect somewhere between what she hears us say and what her little muscles can do. Her favorite cartoon character is Tinkerbell. Somehow over the course of growing in her affections for the sassy little pixie, Norah got it in her head that her name is “Beet-Tao”. She got a TON of Tinkerbell stuff for Christmas this year (photos to follow!) and each and every time she would yell out in excitement, “BEET-TAO!!” the moment she saw the blonde hair, green dress and wings. I think it’s super cute that one of the few words that people can’t understand is something she’s so excited about. It’s tempting to say it back to her the way that she says it, but we make it a point to say “Tinkerbell” correctly when we’re talking to her. Maybe it’s a little independent streak that makes her change up the name the way that she does, or maybe she truly just can’t say it quite right yet. Then again, maybe she just knows better than me. I should probably ask Jan how you say, “Tinkerbell” in Chinese…