Merry Merry

Christmas was all sorts of MERRY.

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So merry, in fact, that my picture taking suffered.

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Jack couldn't have been more adorable on his first Christmas...crawling and climbing around, smiling, attempting to eat wrapping paper and ribbon, and making me utterly grateful to have him around this year.

And, while of course Christmas isn't ALL about the presents, it's kind of a lot about presents, so here's a recap:

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Santa definitely thought I was a good girl this year, which was made known by the slew of surprises including a watch, jeans, and utterly fabulous boots and more that were waiting for me under the tree.

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Jack got books, balls, toys that might make us pull our hair out, and an adorable Pottery Barn chair from my mom and dad.

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Brett got his PS3, hats, and a gas powered airplane.

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And, truly the best part of the day was all the amazing family that we had so close to spend time with. We really missed Brett's family, but had a wonderful day that started at my mom's and then lead us to both sets of my grandparents throughout the day.

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These Jones' definitely had a very merry Christmas.

Hope you did too.

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The week before Christmas, we had a adorable photographer by the name of Brooke take some 6 month pictures of Jack.

My mom set it up and outfitted all the grandkiddies to have a cousin shoot as well.

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Jack was rolling everywhere.

Drooling.

Whining.

Reaching for everything.

Eating rocks.

Making silly scrunched up smiles.

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And it was darling.

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Below are a few of the pictures she sent me as part of our preview.

Can't wait to see the rest!

She did a great job with these rascals.

Pure precious.

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This kid's hair is so hard to manage....with sooo much of it and all.

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This hat is sure to never disappoint.

Just like Jack's newest smile.

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Rat. Rat. Rat. Rat. Rat.

In an utterly adorable way, of course.

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Love, love, love these mugs.

Different

The last couple of weeks, since I last posted, have just been different.

(which is partially the cause of my blog neglect).

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As most of you know, I am a bit of a creature of habit.

I am one who definitely notices when things are different.

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A week ago, Jack came down with a thrilling ear infection.

Eating patterns, different.

Diapers, definitely different.

His sleeping, different.

(as seen in the picture below as he fell asleep in his high chair while I was in the middle of feeding him)

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I went to the dentist to have a cavity filled, only to find it needed a root canal.

The goop now left in my tooth until I go back for a crown is annoyingly different.

I think my crown is supposed to look like this...cowboy hat...belt buckle...

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Jack has become more and more mobile by the day.

Walking out of the room and coming back to find him climbing a chair or stuck under a table have become the norm.

Different from the good old days when he'd just kick it on his back for hours.

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Our basement renters finally moved out this month.

As we have our place posted in a few places, the crowd we've turned up have been all sorts of different.

Last night we were so lucky to show the place to Hugh's future Girl Next Store.

A porn star/lingerie model (as made clear when I googled her name) and

her pimp fiance were quite charming.

Needless to say, our basement is still available....spread the word.

Remember this place?

Find someone (normal) to rent it.

I dare you.

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My grandpa Karl's health has been all sorts of a roller coaster the last couple of weeks. He will have the lowest of low days and then spring back to better days.

It is incredibly different to be in this situation.

Stuff like this doesn't happen to my grandparents.

My grandparents were never supposed to get to this stage.

I've spent a lot of time thinking of him.

Our memories.

His influence on my life.

This is not so different.

But, the thought of a time without him in my life is so different that it's hard to even imagine.

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Obviously, my mom has been spending a lot of time with my grandparents the past couple of weeks.

While we go to work, Annie and I have been trading our babysitting services with each other to relieve my sweet mama.

Watching Hank and Max is actually quite enjoyable.

And, I think Annie finds some enjoyment in watching Jack, too.

We're really lucky we have the option of watching each other's kids.

But, different than the normal routine?

Yes.

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Christmas is approaching and it feels so odd to me.

Usually at this time, I am immersed in my 1st grade Gingerbread Play and all the overly cheesy songs and accompanying actions.

As I walked down the hall at work this week and heard the familiar songs echoing from the gym, the fact that I had nothing to do with it just feels...well, different.

Not bad.

Just different.

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Brett's family usually has several out-of-state siblings visiting for Christmas and the days leading up to it are jam packed with all sorts of family-ing.

This year, everyone is staying at their own home.

Brett's parents are off to North Carolina to spend Christmas with his sister's family.

No in-laws in town for the holidays?

Different.

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I went Christmas shopping a total of one day.

That one is pleasantly different than normal.

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Maybe things don't feel quite the same as usual.

Especially for Christmas being this week.

But, when it comes right down to it,

how can you not like Christmas?

(or this face)

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I'm excited for this week.

Different or same...

I think it'll be a goodie.

(Just like Jack's face in this picture).

Pure joy.

I remember.

I was wearing these shoes.

Blue yoga pants, a dark pink t-shirt, and a white cardigan, too.

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That's what I was wearing.

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The day Jack was born.

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I still remember.

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That means that it couldn't have possibly been 6 months ago.

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I remember looking down at these shoes as I lay in the hospital bed that morning while I was being observed for my silly stroke-like symptoms.

It was so odd how they disrobed me (with the ER curtain open, might I add) and covered my bursting pregnant body with a gown without ever taking my shoes off.

I remember thinking my ankles didn't ever get swollen.

Probably the only part of me that wasn't swollen that day.

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I remember lying in the MRI, basically in the buff and still wearing my shoes.

I remember counting, constantly.

Playing silly games about the number I'd get to when they'd finally let me out.

I remember wondering if I'd give birth in these shoes.

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I remember the nurses commenting on my shoes.

My delivery nurse even said she noticed these shoes that morning as she was leaving and I was being wheeled into the ER.

Then, when she came back for her night shift (to deliver my Jack), she saw that I was

"the shoe girl," and she knew she'd like me.

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I remember later when the nurse finally took my shoes off and put on some sweet blue, rubber soled socks.

And then. I knew. Jack was coming. They meant business.

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I often find myself grasping to things that will make me believe more and more that Jack is still my tiny baby.

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The truth is, he is my crawling, jumping, teething baby.

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And he's 6 months old today.

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Gulp.

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I know I say this every month, but I think it.

Another month? Really?

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What is it about 6 that puts a little lump in my throat?

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Perhaps it's his clothes that are starting to look giant sized.

Maybe it's the fact that he can turn his own music on in his crib.

Could be that when I leave him for 2 seconds, he manages to come find me, all by himself!

Or that he eats food with a spoon and can uncover his own face when we play peek-a-boo.

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He's getting so big. So smart.

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My green and blue Nikes are definitely not cute enough anymore to get the attention I got that day in June.

They're dirty and worn.

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But, Jack is still my baby.

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He is unpredictable just when I think he's predictable.

He requires multiple outfit changes a day.

Wears shirts with snaps.

Still likes to be held.

Spits up like a fountain.

Sucks his thumb like the day he was born.

Cuddles up to me when he's tired.

Looks to me with complete and total trust.

And depends on me for (let's see....) everything.

Oh, how I love this boy.

My baby.

My Jack.

For lack of a better word, he really is so incredibly awesome.

We are so lucky to have him, and I never want to seem like I don't know it.

Because I do.

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I'm so thankful for his 6 months of life so far.

Incredible.

Miraculous.

I'm trying to savor every moment of this experience we're all having.

As he learns, we learn.

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While I'm sure we'll have other kids, the experience will never be this experience.

First times for all of us.

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And I'll swallow this lump in my throat because of the fact that I have the next 6 months+ to enjoy

just

as

much.

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Jack,

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I am obsessed with you.

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Can you blame me? Really?

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Happy 6 Months, pal!

(This little impromptu photo shoot happened this morning as Jack was trying on his half-birthday boots. Deeee-lightful!)

An Amusing Morning

A play by play of our morning today:

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We were in the midst of our morning routine of eating, bathing, and getting dressed.

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8:30

There I was admiring how adorable my little buddy was as he was joyfully splashing in his tub. Suddenly a change in his expression and an abrupt interruption in his splashing told me that Jack was up to no good.

I quickly hoisted him from the tub...and sure enough...

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Poop.

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"Oh, crap," I muttered.

(slightly amused at the irony of my statement)

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Jack was tossed onto his towel like a naughty little puppy to wait until I cleaned up his damage.

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I found him like this...

proud as a peacock.

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After some serious disinfecting and re-bathing, it was time for the circus of getting dressed.

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8:45

(Jack's response to me catching him)

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8:55

Bribed to sit still with the old Tylenol-bottle-trick.

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9:10

Finally ready for the day...

and exhaaaausted.

Little turd.

(but a really cute little turd)

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Total "getting ready" time: 40 minutes.

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(other than poop fishing)

I loved every one of them.

Danke

Today I am thankful for lots of things.

I am thankful that I took such a useful language in High School such as German

(note the title of the post)

I find myself using my Deutsch all the time… so much more useful than, say, Spanish.

And, such a beautiful language.

mmmm

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I am thankful for Jack’s incredible Thanksgiving outfit. Those pants. Wow.

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I am thankful for the fact that I am not in Ikea Hell (pardon the language) tonight like I was 3 nights ago.

It’s a long story.

Just know that it was like hell.

But, worse.

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I am thankful that I did not take clogging until I was 18 years old.

Sorry Kate.

Sorry Annie.

The recent surfacing of the old clogging video made me grateful for hanging up the old tappers when I was 13.

I’m just saying.

(Sorry to mock your dream, but, yes, Kate, I took this off the BYU clogging website. That may or may not be our distant cousin)

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I am thankful for the Johnson’s baby lotion bottle that keeps Jack occupied just long enough for me to get him dressed before he shimmies away from me.

I am thankful that we now have a second child in our home.

This MONSTER of a TV.

Days of Our Lives times 100!!

Oh, and I might be thankful for my 2:00 daily fix of Days.

Go on, judge me.

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I’m thankful for the movie Anchorman.

I watched it for like the 55^th time today.

I suppose it would be fair to say that I’m thankful for Will Ferrell, in general.

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I’m thankful for Jack’s thumb.

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I’m thankful for Kneader’s grilled cheese sandwiches.

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I’m thankful for my dreamy fireplace.

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I’m thankful for the 4 kinds of pie I tasted today.

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As I was thinking of particular things I was thankful for today, and the above came to mind, sure…it seemed a bit superficial.

A bit shallow.

However, the true reasoning is that it doesn’t take Thanksgiving for me to recognize all the incredible things I have to be grateful for.

Like…

Brett.

His hard work. His humor. His talents. His companionship.

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My sweet healthy, happy Jack.

Doctors that helped Jack be healthy.

Babies in jammies.

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My overwhelmingly amazing family.

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Living close to my overwhelimingly amazing family.

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Fave 5 Minutes on my cell phone to call and talk to my overwhelmingly amazing family.

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Staying home with Jack

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A wonderful home.

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Laughter.

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A life enriched every day by all of the amazing people in it.

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However, not a day goes by when I am not thankful for these things

So, this Thanksgiving I let myself be thankful for my soap opera, grilled cheese, and past clogging decisions, too.

Because if not today, then when?

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I truly love this holiday. Love the food. Love the long weekend. Love the family-ing.

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

Glückliches Erntedankfest!

(Happy Thanksgiving)

Oh, and thank you Google Images for never letting me down.

A Good One.

I'm feeling like this is a good week.

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* Post-Operation Check-Up with Jack's spinal surgeon went great.

He says that all is well with my sweet baby!

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* New Haircut! Phew, I made it!

I think it might be at least as cute as the pictures I put on my last post.

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* New CD.

Love when you get new tunes and like them!

Super mellow. Makes me want to go on a road trip.

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*It's my Grandpa Karl's birthday today!

I couldn't be happier to see him feeling and acting so good and to spend tonight celebrating with him.

Happy Birthday, Gramps!

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*Going out tomorrow night with the laaaadies to see New Moon for a special sneak peek that I think everyone gets to see.

Although I have not gone as far as getting a Twilight Mom membership,

I'm not even going to pretend that I'm above liking these books and being entertained by the movies.

I am.

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*Had a day at home with Jack today.

Played. Cleaned. Danced around the house.

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A good day.

A good week.

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Fine. Fine.

A phote of the hair.

Back to My Roots

(warning: this post is really important)

Today...

(and everyday for the past month)

it is an absolute miracle that I have not taken Brett's clippers to my mop for a nice buzz.

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I am not kidding.

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Not only am I a couple of weeks overdue for a cut.

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I've been rocking this do (or some version of it) for 2 years.

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For me, that's a long time. I get restless

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That and the fact that I have a severe phobia of my hair looking like John & Kate's Kate.

Barf.

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Thank the heavens up above...tomorrow is the day of my hair redemption...if I can wait that long.

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When you have short hair the only alternative to growing it out (not happening) is to go shorter.....dun dun dun.

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I want so bad to bust out a new, fresh, short do, but a little voice inside me says....beware....

remember 8th grade???

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Something about that voice, and the complex from an elementary douchebag accusing me of looking like a mushroom, give me a slight fear every time I get impulsive with my hair.

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But, at this point it's a new do...or bald.

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So, I returned to some old photos of my long history of short hair. Surely that would make me feel more confident in divorcing this hair-do at my appointment tomorrow.

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And now I present: Quite a History of Hair

Do enjoy.

If you can look past my cheeks, you will see the epitome of a Classic Mushroom.

Slightly flared and rounded on the sides, with a subtle dome on top.

Tempting.

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This is a bit of a "throw your hair in the air like you just don't care" kind of version of the Mushroom Cut.

Tousled tresses have never looked finer.

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Now this shot serves 2 purposes.

It gives all of you trying to achieve this cut a better look at the side. It's got that stacked, climb your way to the head of the mushroom kind of effect.

I don't vividly recall having steps cut into my hair. Vanilla Ice must have had more of an impact than I thought.

The second purpose of this photo is the other short hair option present in the background.

Thank you, mother.

Thank you.

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I know I've paid homage to the whippee in previous blogs. This is a great styling option when you want to dress things up...say for your 1st grade school picture.

All you need is a little hairspray and a great brush technique, and wallah! Whippee!

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Now we get to an unfortunate time of life. Adolescence.

I kept a more sleek 'shroom during these days.

Tamed down the sides.

Parted down the middle.

A timeless look, really.

Just like my green overalls.

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I have no idea what happened to the bottom half of this picture.

(I do have some dignity)

I'll let you visualize it.

End of 8th grade.

Really small cheeks.

Dashing smile.

Over sized MRJH student council golf shirt.

But that's not important, really.

Let's get to the hair.

This is the year I was introduced to bleach.

I really took hair to a new level here.

In fact, I recall taking a picture from a magazine to the salon to achieve this look.

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Wonder if it was this one:

I really don't know how I could ever fear a haircut.

What, with a hair past like mine?

I'm a shoe-in for a great do!

Wish me luck!