tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96161772024-03-13T04:48:39.198-07:00just jessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.comBlogger532125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-73817931160545296132010-09-12T13:06:00.003-07:002010-09-12T13:12:15.836-07:00(Sort of) Going to Church Together<div align="justify">Even though I had been sitting there for 30 minutes, it didn't hit me until just before stake conference started this morning that Jamesson would be attending the same conference.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Of course you know what came next - the tears.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I've been so pre-occupied with you-know-who that often I hear just some or even part of the announcements in Sacramento meeting, which must have been the case last week when they probably mentioned that today would be a regional stake conference broadcast.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So Jamesson and I got to hear the same talks and sing the same songs at the same time.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But little does he know that Bailey ripped one during the opening prayer.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-81956098264687539102010-09-01T20:39:00.002-07:002010-09-01T20:50:29.209-07:00I Need a Fix<div align="justify">Often I turn to chocolate. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Others turn to pharmaceuticals.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Some people drink themselves into <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">oblivion</span>.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The list of vices is long.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I've discovered a combination, maybe The Perfect Combination, that keeps me from losing my mind.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">My magic-in-a-drive-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">thru</span>: Kneader's 1/2 of a turkey sandwich, side of chicken noodle soup, and (not one but) two chocolate chip cookies. Without a bi-weekly (if not weekly) trip, I would never be able to retract my claws and function.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-39792759435456475182010-08-31T13:47:00.002-07:002010-08-31T13:58:54.159-07:00Maybe I Don't Hate It<div align="justify">I hate that tomorrow is September 1.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I LOATHE this time of year.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">To me fall is just rushing us in to winter.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">It's just a corridor leading me to freezing temperatures and leaf-less trees.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But I'm finding myself enjoying the cooler temperatures.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I daydream about the fall decorations that I'm going to put on my front porch.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">And I'm thinking about soup recipes. A LOT. (clam chowder, enchilada - that I'm going to make up myself, and chicken chili just to name a few)<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So this year I'm going to turn over a new leaf<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">that's crumpling and turning brown<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">that's going to be raked in to a pile and will either be thrown in the trash or... burned.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-86734680389872863442010-08-30T08:23:00.003-07:002010-08-30T08:30:29.757-07:00Back to School BlahsIt took two thirds of the summer, but I was really happy with the cohesive-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ness</span> I was feeling between the kids and I just before they went back to school. <p> <p></p>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">Sure, they still bickered. <p> <p></p></div>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">But we had settled in to a great routine. Chores. Help mom with the baby. Watch baby so mom could do chores. Play. <p> <p></p></div>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">It worked and we were comfy. <p> <p></p></div>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">And then it happened. <p> <p></p></div>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">School. <p> <p></p></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511225267911017762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/THvOLnL-RSI/AAAAAAAAAx8/2puehkYLWH8/s320/Back+to+School.jpg" border="0" />
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">It only took two days and I lost all ground. <p> <p></p></div>
<div align="justify"></div>
<div align="justify">(sigh) Don't get me started on the back to school clutter. <p></p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-46355869524602810212010-08-29T18:48:00.002-07:002010-08-29T18:50:58.702-07:00Coming Soon<div align="justify">Two weeks ago I decided that I was ready to officially and commitedly return to Just Jess. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The next day our internet went down and stayed down for 2 weeks.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I'm trying to convince myself that it wasn't a sign.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-42202918698001023282010-05-19T14:56:00.003-07:002010-05-19T15:04:27.781-07:00What's in a Name?<div align="justify">When Maddie and Isaac were young, I never referred to myself (or let anyone else refer to me) as 'Mommy'. I was 'Momma' or 'Mom'. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Even when Maddie went through that phase when she was 2-3 of calling us by our first names, I much preferred 'Jess' to 'Mommy'. <span style="font-size:85%;">Boy did it drive her daddy crazy when she called him David.<p></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="justify">There are obviously many, many differences between my babies then and my baby now.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But one thing now is for sure: I am Bailey's mommy.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-71933588513783130982010-05-14T19:40:00.002-07:002010-05-14T19:53:47.788-07:00The Night I Ripped His Heart Out<div align="justify">Do you ever (on those rare occasions that the remote is in YOUR hand) put on a show that you KNOW your husband is going to object to?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I do. Just to test how long it takes for him to pitch a fit.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But he didn't the other night when I turned on Steal Magnolias during the Christmas party scene, just as Shelby is announcing her pregnancy. David had never seen it, and decided to play along.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">He had missed all the character building, so I had to explain the friendships and the close mother-daughter relationship Shelby and Malin have.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">He watched. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I, of course, was fighting tears from the get-go. But I didn't warn him.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I didn't prepare him...<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So as the family is gathered in the hospital around the life-less Shelby, in a child-like voice David asks "what's he signing?".<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">(I didn't answer)<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Then in that same, innocent voice "they're going to let her... die?"<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But then he turned back in to a man "stupid movie".<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-73194380237702464012010-04-16T17:45:00.003-07:002010-04-16T18:10:08.577-07:00A Bit of a Vent<div align="justify">What would reunite Just Jess with the blogging world?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Details from our fun spring break?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Sharing the magical moments of Bailey's birth? <span style="font-size:78%;">(oh SO magical)<p></span></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Nope.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">We're going to play "Let's Pretend".<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Let's pretend Just Jess had a good week, and that it was quiet and uneventful, and that everything went as planned.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Nothing was broken. No one flaked. No decisions to be made.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The weird thing about this week is: it wasn't completely disastrous. There were some highs. But there was just enough *<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bleh</span>* that the only food I can get down is chocolate, and I'm pretty sure that my eyebrows are in a permanent scowl.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Let's check in again tomorrow. I'm going eat a bunch of comfort food and shop away the blues.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Keep your fingers crossed that it works.</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-50531636550027695952010-01-04T10:54:00.004-07:002010-01-04T11:15:11.624-07:00Today?<div align="justify">If this baby is truly one of us, she'll arrive today.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">On my side of the family, we are SO co-dependent that we are born on each other's birthdays and anniversaries - a couple of dates are even tripled up.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Even the in-laws who marry in follow suit: David and my aunt Jewels share a birthdate of December 12; Alonso shares March 5 with my dad and Grandma F.; Melissa's birthday, Abby's birthday and my anniversary all fall on April 14; and potential in-law, Heidi, shares November 29 with me - which is also my aunt and uncle's anniversary. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Just to name a few.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">As today would have been Grampa's birthday, it's a very appropriate day for the baby to arrive.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But - let's face it, this is me: for me to give birth <em>today</em>, I would have had to gone in to labor <em>yesterday</em>.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-69566099376643683942010-01-03T19:52:00.004-07:002010-01-03T20:06:08.487-07:00More Than 9 Months<div>Why is the human gestation period 40 weeks?<p></div><div>
Because it takes that long to convince yourself that you have to give up this:<p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422713054484344642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 295px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/S0FYytNpr0I/AAAAAAAAAw8/nMDF1dEYKtg/s320/DSC_0291.JPG" border="0" /></div>
<div>for this:<p>
</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422714243612176978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/S0FZ37D0clI/AAAAAAAAAxE/Dg96AGLb0dY/s320/DSC_0292.JPG" border="0" />
<div></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-70479014450877372972010-01-02T04:26:00.002-07:002010-01-02T08:54:14.198-07:00Oh, Christmas Tree<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/Sz8tn0iE94I/AAAAAAAAAw0/VGzavOuRfsk/s1600-h/DSC_0165.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422102638517090178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 127px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/Sz8tn0iE94I/AAAAAAAAAw0/VGzavOuRfsk/s320/DSC_0165.JPG" border="0" /></a>
<div align="justify">Dear Friend,<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Today I will be disecting you and cramming you in to multiple plastic tubs. I hope that you can find comfort in my frigid basement.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">It is not appropriate, nor socially acceptable for us to continue on with our relationship at this time.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">You have brought me much warmth and happiness, and your departure will leave not only a hole in my living room, but also a hole in my heart.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">When we are reunited next November, a rugrat will tug on your branches. I will try to teach her her to be gentle and to love you as I have loved you.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Thank you for spending these last two months in our home. You have been a good friend.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Sincerely,<p></div><div align="justify"><p></div><div align="justify"><p></div><div align="justify"><p></div><div align="justify">Just Jess</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-6477859106039988472010-01-01T21:43:00.003-07:002010-01-01T21:51:00.050-07:00Checking In<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/Sz7PcBRBmUI/AAAAAAAAAws/gKejDD-FSgg/s1600-h/DSC_0164.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421999081683786050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 96px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-vX_JONKAao/Sz7PcBRBmUI/AAAAAAAAAws/gKejDD-FSgg/s320/DSC_0164.JPG" border="0" /></a>
<div>(but not into a hospital, yet)<p></div><div> </div><div>If you're keeping track...<p></div><div> </div><div>I'm still pregnant.<p></div><div> </div><div>But SO ready to get this show on the road.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-60321421416668343902009-12-31T17:14:00.004-07:002009-12-31T17:27:57.036-07:00Fetch Me My Cane<div align="justify">In my ward, I'm in the older half. By far. I might even go so far as to say that I'm in the older 25%.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">A couple of weeks ago, it occured to me that I'm older than our bishop and his two counselors, our high counselor representative, the Sunday school president, the YM president, the RS president, and possibly the entire Primary presidency. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Sigh. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">But I'm here to report that there is a silver lining, and that the timing couldn't be better. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I have a new visiting teacher and somehow (somehow!) she's around my mom's age. I have to say that as I'm about to deliver this puppy without my mom, sisters and girls - something I've never done before - there is something reassuring in knowing that this visiting teacher (whom I don't even know that well yet but is a grandmother and full of experience) is just down the hill (I'm serious - it's Utah - our backyards touch). <p> <p></p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-25982603665141756682009-12-30T17:10:00.003-07:002009-12-30T17:25:48.753-07:005 Days Later<div align="justify">Today I felt a little bit of Christmas. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Sure, it's New Year's Eve eve. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">But as parents, sometimes we just get caught up in the hustle and bustle that we don't stop and 'smell the roses'. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I did stop today, without even meaning to. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">We went to Kneader's for lunch, all four of us, even though it wasn't our first choice (unfortunately no one else was craving creamy pesto salad dressing from Spaghetti Factory). <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">We sat and ate our sandwiches. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">By the fire. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">With classic Christmas carols playing (by classic I mean sung by the best of them, like Judy Garland). <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">And to complete the scene by the fireplace with the lovely music, the snow (just for our benefit) changed to the large, puffy, slow-falling flakes. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">We all paused. <p> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">And enjoyed our December 30th Christmas. <p> <p></p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-68638792417512224642009-12-29T10:07:00.002-07:002009-12-29T10:18:59.083-07:00SO Over It<div align="justify">This morning I had a dream that I was back in high school. There were a couple of familiar faces, but not everyone was there.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I was happy to see the old 'friends', but they were NOT happy to see me, and went so far as to exclude me from many, many activities.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">In the dream I was so sad, just as the real-life teenage version of me would have been all of those years ago.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">When I eventually woke up, my grown-up reaction couldn't have been more opposite. Unlike some other haunting dreams, I quickly shrugged off the rejection of my former peers.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">"Oh, well."<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">"Who needs 'em?"<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Hmmmm... I wonder how different things would have been if I had developed that mentality 20 years sooner.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">PS There was a lot of pink-brown influences in this dream. Even in my sleep...<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-11700645566115790482009-12-28T19:37:00.003-07:002009-12-28T19:58:42.722-07:00Come and Gone<div align="justify">Look at me... I'm blogging.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Our Christmas houseguests have headed home.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The bedding has been stripped and washed.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Many towels have been washed and folded.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The fridge has been cleaned out (with the exception of the enormous pan of homemade mac-n-cheese).<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The hardwood floors have been cleaned, but all it takes is for one person to walk through with their shoes on and it's all for naught.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Neither the microwave nor the garage door are working properly. Sigh<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">But I have to say, the nine days with James and Lynette (and their four kids) were better than I expected. They put up with my emotional state (caused by my physical state). They put up with the bitter cold and the icky smog. And they helped make our first-ever Christmas away from home special.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">With their departure, is life-back-to-normal? Just temporarily. It's count-down to baby.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">After our dentist appointments, OBGYN appointment, stake mutual activity, and mutual New Year's Eve party - THERE IS NO NORMAL.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-12942182257815980782009-10-12T09:41:00.002-07:002009-10-12T09:44:21.963-07:00It's Been a Rough Year?<div align="justify">A very kind person mentioned that they saw my profile picture on FB. He/she innocently commented on how much younger I looked.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">That picture was taken in April. As in: 2009.</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-53388920679351210692009-10-11T09:19:00.002-07:002009-10-11T09:31:00.909-07:00On My Best Behavior (Sort Of)<div align="justify">Have you ever 'pocket-dialed' anyone?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I've made fun of pocket-dialers for years. Who is careless enough to accidentally call some random person in his/her contact list?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Years ago I had a co-worker who unknowingly pocket-dialed the girl he was currently dating, all the while talking about a former girlfriend. Girl-on-the-phone heard enough to know she never wanted to see him again.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">David pocket-dialed a co-worker a couple of weeks ago while we were driving. We're pretty sure her voice mail got an earful.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I thought I was above this, as I am Miss Caution. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Not so much. Thursday afternoon I 'purse-dialed' my brother. When he called back later to bring this to my attention, I had a moment of panic - did he hear me yell at the kids while on our way to the orthodontist? No, we were just chatting. And who better to pocket dial than my brother - someone who loves me unconditionally AND is one of my best friends.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">As I've thought about this (sort of) close-call, I've tried to be more aware of the things I say and do. I've tried to carry on each conversation with more patience and kindness, as if there were another in the room, listening and watching.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Because as we all know: there is.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-12478761866092805912009-10-10T20:40:00.003-07:002009-10-10T20:46:30.292-07:00While Visions of Sugarplums Dance in Their Heads<div align="justify">I hate those nights when - 5 minutes after the kids are asleep - I am filled with regret. I wish that I had hugged a little tighter. Listened a little closer... and had been WAY more patient.</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-60299307819148354892009-10-10T12:11:00.003-07:002009-10-10T12:15:38.603-07:00The Resistance<div align="justify">A round of applause please as I take my bow. Minutes ago, right here in my home, I held the bowl of chocolate, complete with M&Ms, Whoppers and more - I stared in to that bowl full of yumminess - but took nothing out. I placed that dish of temptation back on the highest shelf of my pantry and walked away.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">No encore today.</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-9953653370216272812009-10-08T20:42:00.002-07:002009-10-08T20:57:22.198-07:00Organize Yourselves<div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000000;">Organize yourselves; prepare </span><span style="color:#000000;">every needful thing, and establish a house, even a house </span><span style="color:#000000;">of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order</span><span style="color:#000000;">, a house </span><span style="color:#000000;">of God.<p></span></span></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">This is running through my mind... over and over again.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Right now I do not have a house of order. I have a house of transition, a house of purging: a lot of old going out - and A LOT of new coming in. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">These last couple of days I've finally had David's help to put one foot in front of the other to organize ourselves. My house might someday be returned to order.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Do I dare list what it is going to take to accomplish this goal? No. But I am confidant that if we continue to be a house of prayer, and a house of faith that we will again be a house of order.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">(and then I won't cringe with embarassment everytime the doorbell rings)<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-38791498273095370112009-10-07T18:06:00.002-07:002009-10-07T18:09:48.094-07:00Don't Give Up On MeI'm working on my commitment issues. For some reason I'm having trouble getting beyond one or two sentences that I can quickly pound out on FB.
I'm working on it. I've committed to Just Jess therapy. We'll see if we can get some results.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-23441801039882483992009-07-28T16:27:00.004-07:002009-07-28T16:30:07.874-07:00Retakes?<div align="justify">I stopped to look back at our <a href="http://www.sarahmaren.com/slideshows/portraits/the-wilhelms-family-portriats">family pictures </a>from the beginning of this year.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">SO much has changed. Isaac has braces, Maddie has bangs...<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Oh, and let's not forget that those pictures are missing our little surprise.<p></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-60522106732552426062009-07-28T13:54:00.003-07:002009-07-28T14:11:18.123-07:00Pry Open Your Wallets<div align="justify">What would bring the writers here at Just Jess out of hiatus? What would break the silence?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The Jon and Kate drama?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The Michael Jackson scandal?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The oh-so-annoying Obama-white cop-black professor saga?<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Nope.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Fees. Junior High fees.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Back in California, we went to school. That's it. We just showed up. <p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Here in Utah? Parent just about have to take a 2nd mortgage.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I finally tracked down Maddie's 7th grade schedule today (it was sent to our old house, where we haven't lived in well over a year). Friends had mentioned the fees, but today I got the cold, hard truth.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">For a state that is so family-oriented, Utah is the worst about school funding. Don't believe me? <a href="http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=148&sid=7320995">Look</a>.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Surprisingly, I am (mostly) pleased with the schools. Somehow the teachers and administrators, maybe we should just call them volunteers considering their salaries, manage to pull off a pretty amazing learning environment.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So maybe I shouldn't bark anymore about the locker fee, library fee, activity fee, computer lab fee, PE fee, science lab fee, business lab fee, health fee, and tech lab fee that TOTAL $80.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Mind you, this doesn't include the yearbook fee or the PE uniform fee. Or any extra-curricular activites like cheerleading.<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">So much for back-to-school shopping. (Yeah, right. Like we can get out of that one.)<p></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9616177.post-32916661165383614732009-07-28T09:20:00.001-07:002009-07-28T09:21:29.965-07:00Stay TunedI think we're just about ready to come out of hiatus.<p>
Just waiting for the staff to return.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925702167591997425noreply@blogger.com0