Father and Sons, 2008

I just retrieved the camera from my camp-encrusted car and thought I would load these pictures onto this blog in the order they were taken. Since I have no idea what happened at the camp out, other than Pie informing me that they missed breakfast because they over slept (7:15! I knew I got the better end of this deal!), you and I get to piece the thing together just from these photos.

Salutations from Jon, 80's Boy Band member.

Now this looks disturbingly high up, thank goodness it is a Rush and not a Konchar.

Hmmm....Memphis Fitch spilled the Cheetos, now what will everyone eat for breakfast ?

The homestead.

Calvin, one of my non-climbers, on a branch I am not comfortable with.

There, much better. Now I can't see how high up he is.

Since Sid took these pictures, he isn't in any of them. But here is Addison, his best friend!

Happy trails, Jonny.

Jon

Looking back over the posts I have written for this "family" blog, I realize that certain children, my monkey children, have dominated these pages. I find myself writing more about Josie and Tommy not because I am partial to them, but rather their antics make for good copy. Well, I do have other children. One of them is Jon. Jon is Josie's twin and as such is called upon to bear burdens that we may never fully understand. I like to joke (and by joke I mean I'm not actually joking) that Jon has already earned a place for himself in heaven just by virtue of his womb mate. Because as delightful as that girl is, she certainly is no walk in the park. More like a ride on one of those rickety Ferris Wheels at the county fair. You've got your Ups, you've got your Downs, and most of the time you are just praying she holds together.

So next to Jos, Jon can appear somewhat on the bland side. Well, this post is here to share some Jonny love and educate you on some things about Jon that you may not know. Such as:

When he was a little guy he was actually quite shy. It wasn't until he was about 4 that he turned into a total ham. We suppose this development of his personality is a function of his place in the family. He's not the oldest, he's not the only girl, and he is not the baby.

Jon is a natural dancer. Like, Stake Dance dancer. He has got some moves that are pretty sweet. He also has got some moves I'm pretty sure they do not allow at Church sponsored events. Just a natural gift, I guess.

He loves the ladies. His first day of kindergarten he came home and told me (in his sweet Elmer Fudd voice, which I wish I could imitate for you now because I do a pretty fantastic imitation):

Mom, I met a beautiful gull today in cwass.

Really? What's her name?

I don't know dat part yet, but she is a beautiful gull. Weally wuvwy. I'm gonna marry dat gull.

Jon will share his last crumb with his sister. Even though he knows that Josie, if asked to part with just one fry from a whole bag of French Fries, will search through the pile, desperately seeking the smallest, hardest little stub of a fry she can find.

Jon will walk up to me or Pie several times a day for an attack smooch, hug, and the question "Hey Mom (or Dad), how about some luvin here?" And he has been known to look at his sister and say "Wow Jos! You look really beautiful in that dress!", and by so doing, leaves himself in danger of being socked in the arm

Jon wants to be good. When he has made some poor choices, I can't be there wagging my finger at him. He brings the hurt all on himself:

Oh, I know I totally blew it!

I'm like Jesus' worst kid!

I feel like junk!

Well, contrary to what he sometimes thinks, he's not even close to Jesus' worst kid. He is funny and sweet and just because he doesn't show up very often in this blog, that doesn't mean we couldn't do without him. I'm just saying, who else could put up with Josie like he does?

(Note on the above photo. Jon begged me to get a picture of him riding his bike. My camera was too slow--plus I am too lame--so every time I took the picture he was nearly out of the frame. I decided this picture was appropriate to the post, which was all about how Jon often gets overlooked in the group. And sure enough, when I looked back over my TONS of pictures, it was hard to find one with just him in it. Bad mommy!)

I Spy A Broken Arm

Local yokels Josie, Jon, Calvin, Christian and Brandon

A few of the kids decided to freshen up that tired old game of I Spy last night by playing it on the fence. As my children spend an ever increasing amount of time on top of fences, I am considering installing that twisty barbed wire that lines the walls of your standard maximum security prison. Because apparently neither the threat of Mom nor monster splinters can keep these kids off their perch.

This picture doesn't show the speed with which Mountain Goat Josie can scamper along a fence. In flip-flops, no less! Where is my heart medication?

Tommy

Gym time

Cookie time

Snack time

Spank time!

Monkeys

Last night Josie and Jon went to Ethan S's birthday party at Jungle Quest. It is one of those gyms where they harness the kids up and then they can swing on ropes, zip on zip lines, climb rock walls, etc. It is very fun for all involved and they even let us parents suit up so we can pretend we are 7 again. We had a blast and judging by my sore body this morning, some of us had so much fun we were lucky we didn't end up at the chiropractor. (Please excuse yet another poor quality cell phone pic, I really don't know what to say. I can't help myself.)

Earlier yesterday, Tommy was off doing deeds when I heard him call to me "Tommy fall down", although when I found him I realized that what he meant to say was "Tommy DON'T fall down", because there he was, at the top of the stairs. The outside of the top of the stairs.

It is possible that my unsuitably calm reaction to the scene I found is due to my unwavering faith in his physical abilities. Or it could be just a lack of appropriate adrenaline response. It is most likely a bit of both, after having endured years of Josie scaling any tall vertical surface, only to balance herself precariously thereon. Fences, filing cabinets, flag poles, what-have-you.

Now you understand why I have developed a twitch.

Back Yard Games

Now that Spring is finally here in our little corner of Highlands Ranch, the children spend every evening out in the back yard, alternately playing kickball and yelling so that the neighbors haven't a moments peace. Behold, tonight's after-dinner game:

You can't tell from this high-quality cell phone pic, but Jon is wearing the sweetest pair of Napoleon Dynamite moon boots.


Jon spends his time hot-dogging instead of concerning himself with finding first base.


Yes, Josie is climbing the fence in her pink satin sock monkey pajamas and her pink snow boots.

Two lbs. of Cake Flour

(A big thanks to Little Brother for telling me how to download these "I wish these pictures could accurately represent the horror that met me in the kitchen this afternoon, and all I had was my cell phone camera" images from my cell phone.)

Sick

The Konchars are all victims of "the bug" that is going around. They are not well. Mom is the least well, mostly due to the increased workload heaped upon her since Pie left for a mountain biking weekend in Moab on Wednesday morning. Although she could have hoped for better timing on his part, at least she has the comfort of knowing that she gets to stay home and be sick, while Pie is off to pretend to be well while riding a mountain bike all day. She would be feeling slightly smug about this if she could feel anything other than nauseousness.

Mom is making the best of the situation by getting absolutely nothing done--her house now looks as good as her stomach feels--and by feeding the family exclusively from the beige end of the food spectrum (she heated up a stack of flour tortillas the other night and called it dinner). She would like to thank her children for being somewhat patient with her during this time, and is grateful they have stopped throwing up on the carpet.

Here's to hoping they all feel better soon, and that Mom can recover enough so that she can actually cook a real meal and stop referring to herself in the third person.