Cutest little models - even if they did ruin two of the products

More to come.. I'm saving the real gems for my site.. stay tuned!

Funny Stuff, pardon the sacreligiousness of it all though.

Subject: If Facebook Existed Years Ago…

Three months almost? Is that right?

Anywho, not that anyone is out there reading this anymore, but I wanted to preserve this video, cause 1, I love Jimmy Fallon and mark my words, one day he will be one of the funniest late night shows on tv and 2) this is pretty freaking hilarious.

So hilarious in fact, I had to make this:

Jo Frost, I'm banking on you.

Anytime I feel I've lost control of something I have an overwhelming need to reel that control back in...shocking isn't it? So after my last blog post i thought I'd show my two remaining readers what arrived today.

I'm putting my money on supernanny how about you?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right

Alternate title: My parents and brother seriously still love me? How is that possible?

Hello friends, no for reals, it's me. Here I am! Hello! Apparently starting a new business endeavor completely on your own and branching off from every form of income as you previously knew it, makes for a pretty busy lifestyle. So, I'm not going to try and make up for time lost and write about all the past three months, instead I'm just going to drop a big, heaping, steaming pile of complaints and poor-me whining on y'all. So, without further ado, here we go...

I wasn't exactly the "easiest" of all children. I'm pretty sure my parents will verify this. I have memories of points in my life, in what I know was very young childhood, where I would purposefully see how far I could push my parents. I needed control, I needed to be in charge and when I couldn't be or didn't get my way, I would TRY and insight anger in them even, try to get them to break. And, when they were completely at their wits end? Oh yeah, that's when I'd push even harder.

As I result, I logged many hours in a particularly awful corner of our living room, in a perfectly awful red velvet chair known only as the dreaded "quiet chair" (basically the 1980's version of time-out). I'm pretty sure if there was a bar graph of time spent in the quiet chair, Erin vs. Mark, my brother's would look like a tiny little adobe home, that barely stuck out of the ground, but that sat next to a towering skyscraper - the largest in the world. In fact, go ahead and just look at what I found when I googled this phrase: quiet chair hours logged erin vs. mark jones. Once in that chair, I would go into silent destruction mode - I would bite, punch and pick at the threads on the chair as if to punish it for being so red and velvet and AWFUL. This sounds pretty harsh, but I'm ashamed to say it's all true. I. Was. Difficult.

Well, guess what friends? Pay back is a bitch. I thought the "terrible" two's were rough. Hahahah what did I know, it's all relative, right? I spit on you and your mild tantrums, terrible twos. YOU WERE NOTHING then and you are nothing now.

The tantrums of the first part of 2010 have been unlike anything I have ever witnessed as a parent, or actually, just as a living, breathing, human being. The only thing they remind me of is... well, myself. Oh, and also a few choice scenes from a particularly well-known movie about being possessed, save for head spinning, at least - knock on wood- so far. Oh my god, the appreciation I have for my parents is beyond words. This is really hard. To watch your sweet, loving, caring little babygirl turn to serious exorcist-type behavior is just heartbreaking. And the cause? You name it - bedtime, nap time, morning time, Shane looked at her funny, she wants her Dora shoes, she doesn't want her Dora shoes, she's breathing.

To be fair, she is not like this daily, but it does happen and honestly it happens more often then I'd care to admit. I hate to be angry with her and I hate to feel any kind of bad feelings toward her, but in those moments, the moments where she's kicking me in the stomach from her bed or refusing to say sorry to Shane while screaming the shrillest most awful screams at the top of her lungs as he stands close by with the most confused little boy look, I have to honestly say, I don't like her much. Don't get me wrong, I love the hell out of that little girl, but those times, oh those times, those times are hard. Sidebar: Li'l g, I, in all seriousness, apologize to you, too. I'm pretty sure you probably wore those same confused little brother - what the hell is wrong with my sister, she's scaring the crap out of me - looks a time or two (or forty or fifty) and honestly, 30 years later, that breaks my heart, too.

I feel like we try every technique in our arsenals and usually all of them at once during one "episode" and while I keep telling myself this is a phase and it will get better, I honestly am afraid, very afraid. Because, well, I know myself. And "myself" took a LONG TIME to stop resisting authority or restrictions, and well, umm, actually maybe I'm still working on that. And, honestly, that scares me, because she reminds me so much of myself. Yikes.

In fact, most of the time, when Tim and I are discussing what to do, or buying the latest book on "scream-free parenting" (which, btw, I do not endorse as I have yet to read this book - finding it somewhat unrealistic for me, but I'm still going to try) he likes to remind me of the unfairness of it all. He was not that bad of a child, he did not destroy furniture out of anger or even kick or hit his parents or siblings, well, except for that one thumb biting incident and I can't even remember if he was the "biter" or "instigator" in that one....so, why is he subject to this cruel karma? Fair enough, Delant, fair enough.

So, there you have it - the big pile of parent (poor-me-and-my-daughter's-tantrums) whining. Now, I would be lying if I didn't admit there's a small part of me that admires this in her. I can't help it. She is determined, driven, full of emotion and opinionated. And, even through these awful fits and scream-a-thons, she is still one of the most loving, caring little people I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Who knows, may be one day in the future she'll have trouble keeping up with her blog.. or whatever they are by then... because she is too busy taking on her own business (or even the world) so SHE can be the one in charge.

PS - If any of you have any words of wisdom/advice/so been there/hang in there sister/ about this which does not involve the following duh information:

• Don't let them get to hungry/too sleepy
• Keep a consistent bedtime routine
• Stay calm, keep your voice low

I'd love to hear it! :)

Valentine's Day fun 2010

Loving the sprinkles and chocolate -
she turned her nose up at the cream cheese frosting.. what?!?!

He, however, did not. Got milk?

I couldn't get this kid in from the snow.

Happy Valentine's Day!!

Damn Snucks

Monday, the highlights: Bridgey is running around super excited that she gets an "extra home day" because, even though she seemed totally fine, we *think* had a fever the night before (could have also been operator error on the new ear thermometer) and was coughing and up a lot so we decide to keep her home anyway; Tim is trying to beat the breakfast deadline at school with Shane since we all woke up pretty late due to aforementioned 3 year old up a lot; and the dogs are freaking out ready to eat and go out.

Tim and Shane finally get out the door and I feed the dogs and let them out while starting to retreat upstairs to finish getting ready when I hear a louder than usual commotion outside, and that's saying something. I yell to Bridget to open and let them in and shortly after she tells me she needs help. Strange, I think, but go down only to be greeted with a terrible smell in the kitchen - a terrible, unmistakable smell of.... skunk... SKUNK - Seriously!!?? SKUNK IN MY BACKYARD ??#$%@#%??!!!

Bridget says her usual bad smell line of, "Ewwwie, I smell something stinkkkkkkkyyyyyyyyy". Freaked out I go out on the deck to barely see a puff of black scurrying (I guess they scurry, right?) under my neighbor's fence. I can't even write what was going through my head or what I might or might not have said outloud as I prayed the dogs didn't actually get - bleechh - sprayed. Thankfully, somehow they didn't (although they didn't smell great) and I quickly brought them in, closed the door. Case closed, right? Dodged a stinky bullet there, didn't we? Well, except... except for the fact I have a three year old. A VERY inquisitive three year old who spent her entire home day asking the following OVER AND OVER AND OVER:

"Mommy, mommy, what is a SNUCK?"
"How did that snuck get there?"
"Where is that snuck's mommy?"
"Did the snuck go home?"
"Did Riley and Brogan eat the snuck?"
"Is the snuck going to eat Riley and Brogan?"
"Why is the snuck stinky?"
"Is it because he ate something bad?"
"Where does he live?"
"Is the snuck going to get in our house?"

Funny for us, at some point, she progressed to yelling at the snuck:

"GET OUT OF HERE SNUCK"
me -yeah, get out of here snuck

"RILEY AND BROGAN ARE GOING TO GET YOU"
me - that's not nice, we don't want the boys to get any animals

"I DON'T LIKE SNUCKS" me - why? snucks are nice, SUPER NICE in fact

"MOMMY THE SNUCK IS BACK - IT'S BAAAAAAAAAAAACK"
this was not true, but did send me running to the back door and then opened a dialogue about telling the truth to mommy

"THAT SNUCK IS GONNA GET ME" me-no it's not, bridgey, again snucks are actually very nice animals, sweet, adorable in fact, they wouldn't hurt a fly...

Finally, eventually, for Tim's sanity (since he mostly stayed home with her that day) she went back to playing with toys and not talking about the "snuck" anymore. Whew, case FINALLY closed? Weeeeeellllllllll, except for that other little problem of a 3 year old's memory....

Me: "Night night babygirl, I love you, see you in the morning..."
Bridget: "Night night, Mommy. Mommy, I can't close my eyes tonight.
(she always says this, btw)
Me: "Yes, you can, just lay here and watch your fishies and think happy thoughts...."
Bridget: No, mommy, I really can't tonight...the snuck is going to get me..."

Update: still sucky, but there is light

I haven't managed to completely turn off the Josh Groban quite yet, but I have noticed there aren't the darkest clouds floating over my head anymore. Although, isn't it weird when you are going through a grieving process how you kind of feel bad when you don't feel as bad? It's like, wait I should still feel really bad, but it's nice to not feel so bad. Emotions = all mixed up. I'm almost worried that by next week I won't feel nearly as bad and then does that mean I'm forgetting or not caring as much anymore? I know it doesn't obviously, but it's even a little scary to me that someday I'll be "okay" with all of this even though it is soooo not okay.

Allright, that's my update for now, I just noticed New Kids on the Block are on t.v. and grandma would want me to watch this. Although, she would also remind me that having all those pictures taped up all over my walls was not cool with her back in the day.

Happy Friday/Weekend everybody.

Suckerpunched (alternate title - this post is a major downer you've been warned)

One week ago.

It was one week ago I lost a woman I've admired and looked up to my entire life. It was one week ago I realized things I've known and looked forward to my entire life will never be again. It was one week ago that a piece of childhood I've carried with me into adulthood died. One week ago I lost grandma. One miserable, no good, very bad week.

I feel cheated, I feel sad, I can still break into tears at any unexpected moment during the day. One week and she is gone. She's supposed to be coming up here, she's supposed to be making Grandpa soup in Georgia, she's supposed to be complaining about squirrels eating the bird seed, she's supposed to be watching Sean and Jackson play baseball this spring. She's supposed to be lots of thing, what she's not supposed to be is gone.

The funny thing is I have it easy. I'm back home with my kids, my husband and my "normal" life, even though nothing quite feels normal yet. I think of my Georgia family and the fact that they are in her house everyday where it smells like her and where her slippers and cane sit by the bed waiting for her to come home. I think of Grandpa and how his wife of 63 years is suddenly not sleeping next to him in bed anymore. I think of my mom and aunt and uncles who lost their mommy and I honestly can't imagine how hard that is if it's this hard on me. I think of my cousins in Georgia who are much younger and who are used to seeing her everyday. Maybe all of this is actually making it harder on me since I feel so useless 500 miles away. I can't do anything to help ease the pain there and I'm just supposed to be back home and ok - like a week ago before everything suddenly changed.

My heart is so split right now. I long to be back in Georgia grieving and healing with my extended family, but at the same time selfishly want to be here with my kids who ease the pain just by being them.

When people ask how I'm doing, I say that it's hard but that I was lucky to have her for so long - but the truth is, I'd like to tell them I feel like shit, that my heart is broken and wasn't ready to stop making memories with her. Of course, then I feel selfish because I realize she was 86 and that she did live a very full life, and believe me I'm grateful for that, but that just doesn't seem to matter to my heart right now. It hurts like crazy and wishes she had 96 or 106 years like I would have bet my life savings she would have.

I keep trying to find comfort in something the Minister said. He said that the grief that we're all feeling, the heartache - that's the price we pay for loving someone. It's so true and surprisingly comforting for me. When I cry, when I don't feel like doing anything but curling up on the couch with the blanket she knitted me, I think of those words. I feel this way because I loved her so much. I'm paying a relatively small price right now in exchange for 34 years of loving my Gram.

I think this week is just getting to me more than I anticipated, everything moved so fast last week there wasn't much time to catch your breath. So, now that I'm back home it's just been a little bit of a rough adjustment. I'll be okay, though, I'm just paying the price for love and it's a price I'd pay a million times over for the time I spent with my Grandma. Just don't be suprised if you ask how I'm doing and I tell you the truth....

Hopefully I will return to unregularly scheduled happy blogging sometime in the near future. For now, please excuse this downer post, but this is a good outlet for an emotional Jones like me, too bad I didn't get more of those Schubert genes... Grandma would probably be mad at me for being this much of a downer. She'd tell me turn off the Josh Groban and pull myself together. So, I'm going to try that, I'll let you know how it's going next week.

Does this count?

Soon, peeps, soon. I promise. I have much to say (when don't I) but t-shirts and life are taking up too much of my time right now.

Ps - Loaded TONS of holiday pics on my picasa account for those who are closely related and don't mind looking through hundreds of photos of my kids/neice/family.