Summer teeth

Well, it's been a while since I've posted anything.  I've been busy, but I'm back!  It's hard to sit at a computer with this lovely weather we've had.  Texas in the spring is awesome.  Here's a look at the randomness that's been going on in the Jones compound.

Lets get right to it.  Dominick is losing his teeth...in no particular order.  It is super cute and borderline ridiculous.  He has summer teeth -- sum-er here and sum-er there.  He has one that I've been referring to as snaggle tooth.  Need I say more?  It is totally interfering with his speech and he gets a little embarrassed.  Case in point:  I am asking him how his baseball game went that I missed.  (Do note that his team is very good this year and Dominick has caught a pop up fly as short stop...rarely happens in 6 year old Tball and he hit a grand slam.)  He tells me all about it.  The conversation ends and a couple minutes later he looks at me and says, "we're not going to get feeded."  I then say, "honey if you're hungry I'll make you something, what do you want to eat.  And it's fed not feeded."  He then looks at me and in a huffy, annoyed voice and says "no, we're not going to be feeded."  I still think that he is talking about food and thinks we're going to starve him out or something, so I ask him to elaborate and he says "my baseball team."  What??  Total confusion at this point.  I consider playing charades, but he is getting more annoyed with me by the minute, so I resist the urge to say first word, sounds like and do the hand gestures.  Instead I ask him if there is a similar word that he could use that I might understand better.  His face turns very red and he says "my team isn't going to lose."  Oh!  Ha ha!  We're not going to get De-feated, I say.  He replies, "yes, I have a hard time saying that without my teeth."  It's very cute, but if that's not a redneck statement, I don't know what is.  It reminds me of the time that John's redneck aunt asked him if he was embarrassed of her and that's why he doesn't come around much and he responded "if we're going to have this conversation, you're going to have to put your teeth in."

I don't plan on writing about myself very often, but here it goes, don't get used to it.  I know that I'm not the best driver.  I've always thought of my driving skills not so much as bad, but basically "not so great."  I guess I was wrong.  When a 2 year old who only has you and his dad for a frame of reference basically tells you that you're a bad driver, I think it becomes official.  Most people would think that the fact that I have been in some sort of accident in every car that my parents have owned since I turned 16 including the red Pontiac twice (both my fault), both cars that they bought me including the white Cavalier twice (one my fault and one not), and 1 of the 2 cars that I have owned (so far so good with the current one I drive) that I would have come to this conclusion sooner, but I guess that I was in denial.  Jackson and I went to Lego Land on Tuesday.  It's about 30 or so minutes from our house.  In that time, I got cut off by a guy who was trying to cross 3 lanes of traffic, to which I laid on my horn and Jackson said "mom you scared me."  A little while later I hit my breaks a little hard when coming up on traffic and Jackson said "wow that was a close one."  And a little later when I was surprised by the crazy, ridiculous lanes/exit set up at 121 and William D. Tate due to construction and couldn't pick a lane and was that person that people were beeping at, Jackson said "Mum, why you drive like that?"  So I think it's official.  I could start sending out a mass email to everyone in DFW when I'm going to be out on the road so you can stay at home and protect you and your loved ones if you would like.  Apparently Jackson thinks I'm a hot mess behind the wheel.  Good thing I stopped texting while driving. 

Speaking of Jackson, he's the man of many faces.  We talk about it frequently, but it's hard to appreciate it unless you see it.  He won't do it on command, but he gives hilarious looks.  Especially the one eyebrow up and one down look--his mean look.  He gets the one so far up and the other so far down that it looks like it hurts.  He also has an ornery look, a sideways look, both eyebrows down furrow, and the list goes on and on.  Here's a couple caught on camera for your enjoyment. 

If that first picture doesn't make you laugh out loud, I don't know what will.  Here are some more....

I believe that the bigger the bow, the better the mom and you are not going to convince me otherwise.  Apparently, many people agree with me because the girl that makes these particular bows refers to this size as a mini.  I think it's just the perfect size for Vettori's tiny head and chubby face.

Happy Easter from the Jones family and our little Easter Bunny of Joy!

Until next time....

TSA should be renamed LOL. Even OMG would be more appropriate.

The Transportation Security Administration, better know as TSA, is in need of better equipment and manners in my opinion.  I should know better than to expect this from a government agency, but a girl can dream, right?  The TSA website states that they "protect the nation's transportation systems to ensure freedom of movement for people and commerce."  Apparently in some cases, this is protection from explosive latent baby formula. 

Prior to my most recent trip to PA, I looked at the TSA website to see how much formula I could bring on the plane with me.  I was traveling with Jackson (2) and Vettori (4 months) by myself, so I decided to do the single serve cans of Enfamil for convenience so that I wouldn't have to purchase water when I got there and have one more thing to carry.  This is what I found on their website:

 When traveling with your infant or toddler, in the absence of suspicious activity or items, greater than 3 ounces of baby formula, breast milk, or juice are permitted through the security checkpoint in reasonable quantities for the duration of your itinerary, if you perform the following:

1. Separate these items from the liquids, gels, and aerosols in your quart-size and zip-top bag.
2. Declare you have the items to one of our Security Officers at the security checkpoint.
3. Present these items for additional inspection once reaching the X-ray. These items are subject to additional screening and Officers may ask you to open a container.

I stop on my way to Dallas/Fort Worth airport and purchase the formula and have the receipt in my pocket.  So as we get to security, I remove our shoes and coats.  Fold up the stroller.  Take Vettori out of the front carrier and put the carrier with the shoes and coats to go through the xray as well as the stroller.  I also take the 4 cans of formula (4 oz each) that I have in a Ziploc bag out of the diaper bag and put it through separately as my way of declaring that I have it.  I then put the diaper bag and Jackson's book bag through.  We do this so often, we are a well oiled machine at the airport.  Jackson even knows where to stand and what to do.  We walk through the metal detectors and are told that they will do additional screening on my formula, which by the way, are in closed pop top cans.  So far all of this is going as they said that it would. 

Then things go south, FAST.  I am getting on our shoes and such and the male officer says to the female officer "I have ANOTHER positive."  The female officer tells me that she has to pat me down and that I can't put Vettori in the front carrier yet.  They make me put her in the stroller even though I make it known that she is too small for this particular stroller that I was using for Jackson, since she can't hold herself up well and there are no shoulder straps.  They tell me it's the only option.  The lady pats me down and says that I'm fine.  The male officer informs me that my cans (unopened) came up positive for explosives and they were now "his".  The conversation goes like this:

Me: I just bought them on the way here, I have the receipt in my pocket.
Him: I don't care if you bought them 5 minutes ago or 5 years ago, they are now mine.
Me: Can they be tested separately or can I open one for a bottle and you can test the contents?
Him:  I only need one positive to dispose of all of them and I already got it.
Me:  How do you expect me to feed my baby?  She is only 4 months old.
Him:  Where are you going?
Me: Pittsburgh
Him:  They have grocery stores in Pittsburgh.
Me:  No shit asshole, I'm talking about on the plane.  --right now your brain is trying to find a word to describe me and my actions at this point and I'm pretty sure the one you're looking for is Classy.
Him:  I guess she'll just have to be hungry.
Me:  Our plane is delayed another half hour, so you're going to make a 4 month old who ate 2 hours ago (10:30a.m.) wait until we land in Pittsburgh (approx 6 pm if there is no more delay) and then get our bags and get to a grocery store (at least another hour)?
Him:  These are positive for explosives and I'm disposing of them, so I guess so. 
He then walks away.

Here's the thing, they only patted me down, not the kids.  They didn't test my stroller, or even look at it for that matter.  They didn't look in Jackson's book bag or my diaper bag for anything "suspicious."  If my cans of formula are positive for explosives I would assume you would want to look at the diaper bag that I took them out of.  They just let me collect my things and move on to the gate.  Makes me feel safe.  Kinda gives me the warm and fuzzies.  Anyone using DFW airport when this guy is working has no reason to be nervous to fly the friendly sky.  Also, his use of the words "another positive" when speaking to the other officer leads me to believe that I am not the only one this happened to that day.  You think maybe the machine isn't working?

So I guess that everyone can sleep peacefully tonight.  The very diligent TSA officer derailed my evil plan to feed Vettori explosive latent formula in hopes that she would fart fire and ignite some jet fuel causing the plane to explode somewhere over Kansas catapulting us to Oz to see the Wizard.  I guess that I won't get those Ruby slippers after all.  On a side note, on the way back, the TSA people as well as the American Airlines workers in Pittsburgh were wonderful and helpful -- there's no place like home, there's no place like home :)

Until next time.....(cue the evil laugh....muh ha ha, muh ha ha, muh ha ha......)

I bet you can't fit your head in there!

Well, February is a short month and we're already on creative way to hurt my brother #2.  At this rate, we'll hit number 10 by summer.  Sunday was a gorgeous day.  It was 77 and sunny.  The boys played outside most of the day.  When I got home from work that day, I notice that behind Jackson's ear it was all red and there were cuts and scratches and I ask him what happened.  He immediately starts whining and holding his ear saying my ear-a my ear-a. 

The story goes as follows, John is in the house giving Vettori a bottle and the boys are still out playing in the back yard.  To say my yard is small is an understatement.  It is fenced in and about the size of a postage stamp.  We have a nice sized deck that is flush with the fence, except on the very end there is a gap.  And because our yard is sloped a little, there is a gap at the same end between the ground and deck as well.  In that area there are some large rocks underneath the deck.  John hears Jackson kind of whining and yells out the window to see if everything is ok.  He gets no response, but the whining stops.  A couple of minutes later he hears Jackson yelling, which turns to screaming very quickly and then after a couple of seconds stops.  He stops giving Vettori her bottle and gets up to go run outside when the door swings open.  Dominick informs John that Jackson got his head stuck.  We are still unsure if it was between the deck and the fence or between the deck and the rocks, but stuck none the less.  Dominick also tells John "don't worry dad, I took care of it."  He says he just pulled really hard.  Luckily he didn't take his ear off.  I wish I could have actually seen this all go down. 

There are many things about this situation that are disturbing to me, but there are 2 big ones.  First, what possessed Jackson to see if his head could fit there in the first place.  Second, what criteria Dominick is using to decide if he should take care of something himself or go get an adult.  I think that 'stuck head' falls under go get and adult, but that is just me.  One of my favorite quotes is "you have to be tough when you're stupid."  Because he's 2, it doesn't apply.  But if he tries something like this again when he's 12, which I'm sure he will, that's going to be my response.

So creative way #2 to hurt your brother is trying to help him get his head "unstuck."

Oldies, but goodies.  When Dominick was about 4 years old, we were visiting at my parents without John.  I was going to go out with my brother Garrett, his fiance Kristina and my brothers best friend Billy Deer.  Dominick is watching a TV show and about to go to bed.  My mom is joking with Billy to watch out for me.  That when I drink I get out of hand and I'm his date for the night, and therefore, his responsibility.  Let me correct that....I'm pretty sure she was joking.  Anyway, I give Dominick a hug and kiss and say good  night and as I'm walking away he calls me back.  I lean down and he whispers in my ear "if that boy tries to kiss you, punch him in the face."  I try not to laugh and assure Dominick that if Billy Deer tries to kiss me, I will most definitely punch him in the face.  I then ask him why he would say that and he says "grandma said that he was your date and daddy would not like him kissing you."  Too cute!

Until next time.....

Brrrrrr!

What is this white stuff falling from the sky, you ask?  It's snow!  And boy is it cold.  Super Bowl week was a bust because of the ice/snow/cold mix.  We went 19 hours without power at our home on the coldest day North Texas has seen in over 15 years, but that mess is a blog in and of itself. 

Why is this freeze in DFW happening?  There are many opinions.  Al Gore would say it's global warming.  Some people, myself included, think that God also hates Jerry Jones.  Some would say that all those Yankees in town last week brought the cold weather with them.  But my husband believes that hell has frozen over and we are getting the back lash and I think he's right.  What could possibly cause hell to freeze over?  Jerry Jones has vowed to never get plastic surgery again...not that's not it.  My baby slept through the night...not a chance.  The Cleveland Browns won the Super Bowl...no that was Green Bay.  My sports loving, cowboy boot wearing, big truck driving, helpless animal hunting, meat and potatoes eating, man's man of a husband bought a tiny little Jetta....Bingo!  Ding, Ding, Ding that's the winner!  I love the car and it's growing on him.  This is only funny if you know my husband.  He LOVES trucks.  The bigger the better.  He gave in and got a Jeep Commander last go around, but only because it had over sized tires and a V8 Hemi.  I think he can pick this car up and move it if necessary.  It begs the question:  Is that a Jetta in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?  It's amazing what happens to people when they become parents.  Before the only criteria for him buying a vehicle were:  Will my buddies think is cool and will the Chicks dig it?  Now it's gas mileage.  Haha.  I will do my best to get a picture of him posing beside his new ride to post on here.

I would say that the score now stands 2011: 2, Me: 1.  Because we are saving a bunch of money on car payment/gas, which can be put to good use like spa days and new shoes for me.  So I get a point.  Don't call it a come back, I've been here for years.   

I'm adding a new section to the Blog called 10 creative ways to hurt my brother.  We are going to begin counting the creative ways that Jackson tries or accomplishes hurting Dominick and vice versa and see how long it takes us to get to 10.  Numero Uno:  The boys have bunk beds.  Dominick on the top bunk and Jackson sleeps on the bottom which is very low to the ground and much like a toddler bed.  When he stands up, his head doesn't quite hit the top bunk.  The top bed his held up with wooden slats, which are made to be put in from the top with out the mattress on.  They can be moved from underneath, but you have to swing them out and it's a big pain.  Even more of a difficult task when a 60 lb boy is laying on the top bed.  But that is precisely what Jackson did. 

About 10 minutes after they go to bed, I hear a pounding noise.  I think that Jackson is kicking the bed or the wall.  I ignore it.  A little later, I hear Dominick yelling "Stop that Jackson, put that down.  You're going to hit me.  Put that down."  So I run upstairs and Jackson is holding this board (which is longer than he is) over his head and hitting the rail on the top bunk.  I'm not sure if he was trying to wake up Dominick or if he was going for blood.  Needless to say, it was impressive.  I'm not sure how he got it out with Dominick laying up there or how he was strong enough to get it over his head, let alone hold it there long enough to repeatedly hit the top bunk with it.  So creative way #1 is 2 year old with a 2 x 4.

Get out your tissues, we're going to briefly touch on the Super Bowl.  All I have to say is that I'm slowly getting over it and I still love the Steelers.  I keep telling myself that it's better to play like crap in the Super Bowl than to not have played in the Super Bowl at all.  Sunday could have been worse.  I could have been a Cowboys fan, or God forbid, a Browns fan.

I think Vettori's face says it all.  It's how all of Steeler Nation felt when the game ended.  A little dazed and confused.

Until next time.......
   

Toddler Hold 'em: Bring your best Poker face/ John Jones: A Jets Fan?

Every Dad has a "Dad Voice."  I love my husbands because his had a bit of a southern twang to it and when he's mad, one syllable words become two syllable words.  Such as, "Jackson, stop that na'aw."  It makes me smile.  Dominick, the oldest, is scared to death of the dad voice.  Just the thought of John being mad and using the Dad voice or showing his disappointment keeps Dominick out of trouble.  Jackson, not so much.  Jackson has more of a "call your bluff" attitude toward discipline.  It's kinda like he examines his cards and declares, I'll see your dad voice and raise you some screaming.  When this happens and Dominick is at our house, just seeing Jackson act that way in response to John gives Dominick so much anxiety that it looks like he could use a Valium.  All of this testosterone and the way they use it brings me much entertainment.

Most recently, Jackson has taken a stand against brushing his teeth.  He's decided that opening his mouth is something that he can control and he's not going to do it for a toothbrush...ever.  He and John have been going round and round with this every night for about a week.  John's takes the approach, if you will not cooperate, I will hold you down and make you because I'm bigger and stronger.  Jackson responds with more of a go ahead and try old man.  Most of this week Dominick has been at his moms, about 20 miles away, but I'm sure that while this is going on at my house, Dominick gets off the couch at his moms and goes to brushes his own teeth...just in case.  He probably thinks, I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling that I should brush my teeth.  He senses the dad voice, even that far away.

Here lies the difference between moms and dads (at least with boys).  This would go on as long as needed for Jackson to give in and John to "win."  Instead, after a couple of days, I went to Walgreens and bought a Spiderman toothbrush that flashes a red light for 60 seconds when you press the button.  It was $2.99.  Jackson now brushes his teeth morning and night...and a few times in between.  My way is not better, just faster.  Best 2 dollars and 99 cents that I've spent in a while.

Enough about Toddlers, let's talk sports.  This week John Jones will be a Jets fan.  Gasp!  This would be in response to how ruthless and obnoxious Garrett (my brother) and Billy (Garretts friend) will be when the Steelers win.  Do not feel bad for John.  He is just as bad to them and brings it on himself.  John will have to avoid Pennsylvania and any phone numbers beginning with area code 724 for at least 6 months if the Steelers win the AFC and if they win the Superbowl, he might as well just lay low until next years Super Bowl.  Him being a Jets fan actually works out well for those of us who bleed black and gold because he has been bringing bad ju-ju to anyone he cheers for this year.  Lets review:

1. The Cowboys:  if I hear "they have all the talent to be a great team" one more time, I'm going to puke.  When John attended a game this year I think he actually cried into his $12 beer.
2. The University of Texas:  They were embarrassing.  UT's loss is Cleveland's gain.  Come back Colt McCoy...pretty please.
3. He took Dominick to the Big 12 Championship game and was rooting for Nebraska...they lost to Oklahoma.  O-Who?
4 One Sunday after I made snide comments about the Cowboys, John declared himself a Ravens fan:  they lost that day too.  To which I comforted him by saying "I'm sorry both your teams sucked today."
5 Last week he was cheering for the hated Patriots and their whiner, pretty boy QB with the Justin Beiber hair.  Thank you cute little Mark Sanchez for taking care of them.
**On a side note, does anyone else notice that with long hair Tom Brady looks more like Gisele's brother than husband?  Kinda creeping me out.  But I digress.

The only exception are the Texas Rangers.  But I'm not sure that counts because, seriously, who saw that coming?  So if my lovely husband cheers for the Jest there is a good chance that his bad Karma will cause cute little Mark Sanchez to eat a can of Botulism for breakfast on Sunday.  Having to travel alone to PA with the kids for a whole year because John can't show his face is a small price to pay for a Steelers win.  John can probably hang out with Jeff Reed on Sunday.  I'm sure he's sitting on his couch, getting drunk, eating Cheetos in his green and white undies somewhere.

Until next time....

Happy Freakin' New Year

I'd like to start off by saying that 2010 was very good to our family.  I had a great pregnancy and delivery of our precious baby girl Vettori Grace and we only ended up in the ER with Jackson once for stitches.  Everything else is a blur. 

On 12/31/2010, while I was doing a Burgettstown Bar Crawl with John, my brother and sister-in-law, and some friends, I thought to myself: I know that 2011 isn't going to be the most glamorous year that I've had on earth.  It's bound to be filled with baby vomit and potty training woes.  And did I mention that I was starting it out by doing a bar crawl through B-town?  But I think it's going to be GREAT.  Maybe even my favorite of my 30 years on record.  And 2011 has responded...with a big F-U!  I almost feel like 2011 has challenged me to a duel and said "if you want it to be great, you're going to have to work for it."  In the short 12 days of this new year we have had Attack of the Viruses.  The same week that Jackson decided since this baby is here to stay, he might as well love her, he got hand, foot and mouth, which is a very contagious virus and not good for a 3 month old to contract.  Up to this point Jackson completely ignored his sister.  He acted as if she didn't exist.  Something happened a week ago and now he wants to kiss her and share toys with her and put her paci in her mouth for her (whether she wants it or not).  However, he really shouldn't be breathing on her, let alone touching her.  Explain that to a 2 year old.  So it's my 2nd week back to work after 3 months of maternity leave and I had to call in sick one day.  Nothing like setting the bar high.  I guess that Employee of the Year award will not be going to me.  Oh well, there's always next year.

In addition to that, I have come down with Shingles.  Two words: No fun.  No need to elaborate.  So I guess as it stands, the score is 2011: 2, Me: 0.  But that's ok.  It's not over yet.  There are 353 more days and I'm feeling a come back coming on.  I am discussing this situation with my mother and she attempts to make me feel better by saying, and I quote, "what doesn't make you stronger will kill you."  Doesn't give you the warm and fuzzies when said that way, does it?  For those of you who don't know my mom, she has a tendency to mix words up and say thing backwards.  It ALWAYS ends up being funny.  What is not funny is that I'm beginning to do the same thing.  Maybe it's a mom thing?  Or it's genetic.  Either way, I'm sure that my children will me making fun of me the way that Garrett and I do my mom. Thanks for the laugh Sue.  It really did help get me out of my feeling sorry for myself-funk.

On a funny note, while waiting in the very long line at Walgreens for my prescription for my Shingles, I noticed that Jackson had peed in his pull-up.  I start to talk to him about how he's supposed to tell me that he has to pee so that I can take him to the bathroom.  About halfway through this sentence he closes his eyes and begins to fake snore.  I calmly tell him to open his eyes because I'm trying to talk to him.  With his eyes still closed he tells me "I sleeping Mummy, SHHHH."  Thus ending our potty training discussion.


That is one of the many parts of parenting that I haven't mastered.  When you are trying to be serious and they do something funny.  I just laugh and move on.  I'm sure that's not what you're supposed to do.  Jackson is a very head strong 2 year old, to say the least.  Not sure where that comes from, hehehe.  When he doesn't want to listen to what you have to say, nothing short of Jedi Mind Tricks are going to get him to.  And I'm just not sure how to handle that, because I don't posess that particular super power.

On a side note, I also have a new cousin in the Reynolds family, Sadie Elizabeth Higgins, born 1-11-11.  Congrats to Mom, Dad and Big Sister Makenna.  I can't wait to squeeze that little butterball...not too hard, of course.

After 20 or so pictures taken, we got one with them all looking.  Enjoy!

Until next time....