Still Practicing

And having great fun with my new toy.

-- SJ


If there's grown-up work to do, Addie considers herself essential. No rake was available, so she got a broom.



Stuart's idea of helping involves more companionship than any actual work. He says the trashcan is his brother. Not that Daphne is a disappointment or anything....



And Daphne's job is to smile and look adorable.

Look What The Joneses Got

After a only a couple dozen hints and nudges from family and friends, we realized we needed a digital camera. This post really is just practice, but at least I had cute subjects to work on. -- SJ



Daphne wonders: What is that strange object in Mama's hands? Will it feed me? Will it hold me? So put it down and pick me up.



What a great Daddy! He raked up all these leaves just for us!



At least one of us in this picture is cute.

The Boy is Four

He isn't cute, he isn't little, and he's no longer three years old: Happy Birthday to Stuart.
Yesterday was Stuart's fourth birthday, and was he ever impressed by that fact. For some time, he's refused to let us call him "cute," because only babies and girls are cute. Now we can't call him "little boy," either. Never mind that he's still so adorable that I have to squeeze him. Fortunately, he's always happy to cuddle and squeeze Mama... as long as Daddy's not anywhere around.

The same boy who never can remember where he put his clothes during Quiet Play (he prefers the minimalist look most of the day), who has to be reminded dozens of times a day to say "please" and "yes, ma'am," is the same boy who remembers the names of seven different stuffed animals, a score of mythological characters, and two new Little People dragons. He's quick with math and working on reading, and is showing promise as an action-novel author: "Once upon a time there was a mountain giant named Organize." Pause. "Whack, whack, whack, whack!"

He's our little sunshine-and-thunderclouds, either very happy or very unhappy, with only seconds separating the two extremes. He's Addie's best friend, proud to be Daphne's big brother, and still pretty sure he's the funniest person on the planet. We love our not-cute, not-little, big four-year-old boy!

-- SJ

A Belated Thanks

This Thanksgiving, I have much to be thankful for. But I want to focus on publicly thanking two families whom I am very grateful to for their hospitality to me when I was single.

First, the Wakeman family in Maine, my cousins. During one summer when I was in Bible School, the Wakemans found me a job at McDonald’s and then opened up their house so I could live with them. It was one of the most fun summers of my life – my cousins and I would work the night shift, get home in the wee hours of the morning, and sleep until 10 or 11. We’d work in the garden a bit or mow the lawn, watch Rush Limbaugh and CHiPs, and just have a good time hanging out together. This is the summer I learned how to cook stir-fry, and where I got the idea that dads should cook Sunday breakfast so moms aren’t under so much stress getting ready for church. Thanks, Wakemans!

Second, the Hall family here in Virginia. When they invited me to come live with them, Mr. Hall said the only rule was that I had to be part of the family – no just considering myself a tenant. I couldn’t have asked for a better family; they were always welcoming, supportive, and fun to be with. I learned how to listen to two conversations, one in each ear (thanks, twins!), engaged in late night talks with Christian parents who loved their kids and each other dearly, and most importantly, found out the proper way to clean a bathroom. Besides, they introduced me to AWANA, which I liked so much that now my kids are in it. Thanks, Halls! You guys are wonderful.

--DJ

Vignettes on Womanhood

While mentally composing a post, I was playing around with the wording and came up with, "I did not enjoy planning our wedding, but in the end it came off nicely. Mostly because, in the end, it was finally done and I could get on with what I was really interested in: being a wife."

But that's not accurate. I wasn't looking forward to being "a wife." Just like I wasn't looking forward to being "a mother," except in the vaguest abstract sense. What I was interested in was being Darren's wife. Likewise, I'm not one of the women who declare "I love being a mommy!" I love being Addie's and Stuart's and Daphne's mama. Such was my moment of self-revelation.

***

I've talked to three or four women recently who have said that either they want another child and husband doesn't, or the other way around. And I think, If you want another child, why don't you have one? You won't get to revisit the question in "Life: the Sequel."

***

Along the same line of thought, I saw a celebrity quoted as saying, "Anybody who doesn't have a child in this lifetime misses the big picture." As Darren remarked, "Well, I don't want a child in this lifetime, but when I come back as a bunny, I'll think about it then."

***

In today's America, girls and boys grow up under a ferocious emphasis of equality. Whatever a boy can do, a girl can do. Whatever a girl likes, a boy can like, too. Secure in their interchangeability, the boy and girl grow up into a man and woman. They get to know one another on an adult level. And a disturbing suspicion germinates in the woman's mind, which reaches full-flower during pregnancy: Biology does not play fair and equal among the sexes.

You wouldn't think it necessary for us to discover this fact, but judging from books, articles, and my own experience during my first pregnancy, it comes as a surprise. You're halfway through the first trimester, your state-of-being ranging from constantly carsick to barely able to function; your emotions come and go without any reference to reality; your body changes in ways from microscopic to blatantly obvious. And you look at your husband and it hits you like lightning: "Hey! He's half responsible for this new life! Why doesn't he have go through any of this?"

God obviously didn't consult the modern American mind before He created men and women.

-- SJ

Interviews and Conversations

Interview with the Jones Kids
(or, I Can't Think Of Anything to Post But Need to Update the Blog)

Note: Some interviewees were more helpful than others.

Q: What season is it?
A: Fall. November.
S: Bingamgo!

Q: Are any important days coming up in November?
A: Like Stuart's birthday?
S: Bambabinga!

Q:What do you want to do for your birthday?
S: Play and play and play and play and play. What are we going to do for my birthday?
Q: I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet.
S: But tell me!

Q: What games do the two of you like to play together?
A: Baby Medusas.
S: Baby games. You just be a baby. A baby that you don't know. Well, I know cyclopses and others.

Q: When are you going to stop waking up at uncivil times of night and staying up for an hour before dropping off again?
D: That's a cranky question. You should nap more during the day, like I do.

-- SJ, AJ, SJ2, DJ2

***
Conversations with Addie

As reported by Nina, bringing our girls home from gymnastics:

Addie: Do you know Heather?
Nina: No, I don't think so.
Addie: She's Stevie's sister.
Nina: Oh, well, who is Stevie?
Addie: Heather's brother!

***
Addie, to Mollie: Do you go to public school?
Mollie: Um...
Nina: Yes, she does.
Addie: Public school is boring.
Mollie (indignantly): My school isn't boring!
Addie: Well, in public school you can't pray to God or Jesus.

("Oh," I said to Nina. "I guess she did listen to me after all.")

-- SJ

I Bet You Didn't Know

You can sing the ABCs to the tune of "Camptown Races."

and

You can sing "Yankee Doodle" to the tune of "Good King Wenceslaus."

-- SJ

The Feast of All Saints

(Not, as I originally typed, All Satins)

The tradition, now in its fifth year, carries on in high spirit, by which I mean that the food was good again. The spread this year revealed the perhaps startling fact that pizza is very saintly in nature. And also that the Joneses got lazy and, instead of homemade pasta casserole, served pizza from a box. (The other pizzas, from our neighbors Nina and Dana, were decked out with red- and green-pepper stars to represent Christmas and St. Nicholas, and were much tastier.) In honor of St. Ambrose of Milan, I did make some Italian-herb bread. We also served Milano cookies, an idea we shamelessly stole from Peter and Kelly S's contribution last year. A tiramisu cake joined us in spirit.

Leah G.'s St. Brigid of Ireland brought us Irish soda bread, while Leah D's St. Mary provided some native Middle-Eastern hummus. Charlessa G couldn't come at the last minute, but thoughtfully sent along her "Bakewell tart," which she says is a traditional sweet on St. George's day in England... at least according to one random person on the Internet. ("Now that I have the internet, I don't even have to read my Bible anymore." -- enduring quote from Kris G., for those who knew him.) The tart was good on the party night, but is one of those dishes that improves after setting. I was in the position to know, since of course we got the leftovers.

St. Basil the Great of Cesarea made a fine showing, via Katie S, with yogurt soup and kataifi -- a dessert that tastes much like baklava. (I was in the position to know that, too.) St. Francis Xavier, missionary to Japan and assigned to Sarah and Nathan M, served up sushi and Japanese rice cracker mix. St. Joan of Arc was the the most groan-worthy connection: Deidre and Jeremiah M brought roast beef, as Joan was burnt at the "steak." They also brought a Merlot wine steak sauce for dipping, so we forgave them. And St. Patrick, in company with Daniel and Rachel S, supplied potato chips... potatoes come from Ireland, get it? The kids certainly got them, in platefuls.

The trivia game -- there's always a trivia game -- was followed by the Situation Game. (Guests from former years will recognize this game.) We grouped people (and, thus, saints), and then gave them a dire distress from which their saints had to rescue them. A burning building, a train held up by robbers, and a sinking ship... all resolved neatly according to the saints' particular strengths. All of which included coverting everyone present. (Note to self: next time we play this game, do not assign self St. Ambrose, whose primary strength was that he was an excellent preacher and theologian, not a heaping big help on a sinking ship.)

We finished up by singing "For All The Saints," and then closed with a traditional evening prayer (Compline). And thus ended the Fifth Annual All-Saints' Day Party. See y'all next year!

-- SJ

A Fun Idea for Ballots

The Curt Jester has a good suggestion for adding emoticons to voting machines.

"With the advent of so many LCD touch screens in the voting booth just how hard would it be to able to add emoticons with each of your votes? When the emoticons are tabulated politicians would see exactly what you really think of them. Right now a vote appears to them to be an 100 percent vote of approval. It would be great for their humility to get a 80 percent 'yawning' and a 10 percent 'grossed out' along with other ratings."

--DJ

Bloopers

I usually carpool to work. We park at a local church and then someone drives. With five of us, it works pretty well.

A couple weeks ago, when Chuck dropped me off in the evening, I felt all my pockets for the keys, and couldn't find them. Nervously, I got in the car, and sure enough, there they were, hanging from the ignition. I felt dumb.

Then I shifted into Drive and drove home. Without having to turn on the car. Because I'd left it idling all day long.

God takes care of fools, I guess :)

--DJ


***

We're gearing up for our 5th Annual All Saints' Day Party. In honor of this event, I donated a tiramisu cake to a random patron of Martin's grocery store.

It was after 7:30 p.m. Our family of now-five paraded out to the van, each parent barking various orders to whiny kids. We loaded up the groceries, loaded up the kids, and headed off to do one more errand before going home. Once home and in the house, Darren asked if the cake made it inside, upon which we realized that it hadn't made it out of the cart.

Of course when I went back to find it, it was long gone. I found the cart, parked inside, completely devoid of anything that looked like a cake. But, on reflection, I found comfort in the thought that -- possibly -- I had been instrumental in a miraculous intervention in mundane life. As follows:

Possibly, just possibly, someone on this chilly November night suffered a heavy heart. Her grandmother, a feisty Italian woman whose favorite saint was Ambrose of Milan, was having her 95th birthday party. What Grandmother loved above all else was tiramisu cakes. Alas, there was no money to get her one!

In her solitary ramble, the heartbroken granddaughter at length found herself strolling through the parking lot of Martin's. She gazed bleakly at the brightly-lit sign proclaiming "Bakery." What good did a bakery do her, when there was no money?

"Oh, Ambrose," was the sigh, "couldn't you manage just one little tiramisu cake for my grandmother?"

As she turned away, her eye caught sight of a cart parked in the corral, one of those carts with the red truck on the front. And, what could this be on the lower shelf? A cake! She stepped closer, and with trembling hand picked it up. It was a tiramisu cake! There was no one in sight, no one to claim this orphaned delicacy.

"Oh, thank you!" she whispered. She hardly noticed the chilly wind as she hurried home. So great was her joy that she nearly didn't get out of the way of the grey Ford Windstar -- license plate JONESES -- that tore into the parking lot.

"Crazy drivers," she muttered, cradling the cake and disappearing into the darkness.

-- SJ

The Namer

Stuart has inherited my compulsion to name everything. Some of his more memorable christenings:

* Pinky-pom
* Cholken
* Cracker-Barrel (a cyclops)
* Organize (a mountain giant)

He rarely calls Daphne by her name, instead collecting nicknames from us: Daffodil, Daffy-down-dilly, Daffy-doodle, and Fussbudget.

And then there's his new addition to our nighttime prayers: "Please bless Mama, Daddy, Addie, Daffy-down-dilly, and all my other brothers and sisters." 'All my other brothers and sisters' include Thor, Odin, Isis, and Gaia.

-- SJ

The Randomizer

Darren (in response to Addie's kicking his feet while he was reading the paper): "Are you trying to get some attention?"

Addie: Is 'attention' the French way of saying 'apple peel'?

***
(Completely unconnected to the conversation currently in progress): "Could you and Daddy live together if your hair was different?"

The Randomizer has spoken.

-- SJ

P.S. Not a Randomizer, but funny: Addie was reading a book and gasped, "It says Satan! It says, 'Some people thought they heard the rustle of Satan'!" Spelled s-a-t-i-n.