Hello, big five year old!

I can’t hardly believe it.

Hello, birthday celebration at school.

And birthday spankings.

Which are illegally awesome.

Hello, strawberry cupcakes with fake pink vanilla frosting.

Because she likes fake frosting better than real frosting.

My hope, by the time she leaves our house, is that she love Jesus and real buttercream.

In that order, obviously.

Hello, little classmates sharing what they love best about her.

Mostly her special party dress.

And her “eye.”

Hello, Pre-K is the best age in all the universe.

Hello, birthday dinner at her favorite establishment.

Chicken strip in one hand, ice cream spoon in the other.

Hello, sweet party guests.

And beautiful, 80 degree weather that knew it was her party day.

Hello, hat decorating.

Hello, glitter and glue and stickers and sequins and feathers, still all over my floor.

Hello, creative friend who let me steal her idea.

Hello, more cupcakes with fake frosting.

And lots and lots of sprinkles.

Hello, presents!

Hello, Giants game on in the background.

Always.

Hello, gift unwrap assistants.

So eager to see the birthday girl open their thoughtful gifts.

Hello, letting balloons go at dusk.

And then popping some of them on the grass.

Hello, childhood memories being made.

Hello, entertaining older sister.

I love that she inherited her grandpa’s strong party presence.

Hello, bedtime bootcamp.

Hello, explaining for weeks beforehand:
“mommies don’t sit on the bed and wait an hour for FIVE year olds to fall asleep…”

It probably also helped that I shared it as the thing I love best about her in class.

“What I love best about Ashlyn is that she is going to go to sleep all by herself tonight!”

And then her teacher reinforced it.

While she gave us both the sideways stank eye.

But it’s working!!!

Six straight nights of mommy-free bedtime.

With a little help from her lion friends.

Happiest of birthdays, Ashlyn Grace.

We love you.

It was 1984.

The Denver Broncos were facing the Cleveland Browns in a championship game of some sort.

My dad (far left) was the only Cleveland fan in all of California.

The couple he’s pictured with, Gary and Carol, bought their jerseys the day before.

I’m sure of it.

Our neighbors across the court, The Caldwell’s, were from Denver.

My parents hosted a party that day.

Wally Caldwell cut our cable line (with scissors) in the 4th quarter.

Everyone had to go to their house to watch the rest.

So scandalous.  So genius.  I loved our court.

My mom’s family is from Long Island.

They are lifelong Jets fans, especially my uncle.

But in the 80s?

EVERYONE was a Niner fan.

I have clear memories of watching the close game against the Bengals at my Uncle Bert’s house in 1989.

And I remember my dad buying our very first projector big screen for the 1985 game against the Dolphins.

Then, there’s Hometown Tommy.

Yes.  That is our grouchy baby up past her bedtime in a seedy Houston bar in 2004.

I know.

Although I’ve always been a bit confused over who I should be rooting for,

I’ve always loved the game.

It’s always been a part of my life.

And my earliest memories.

Thrilled for Sunday.

Super excited for a potential Pats/Niners Superbowl.

But this time I know who I’ll be rooting for.

Sorry, Tommy.

From the book of Luke, Chapter 2:

8 And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. 10 And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

14 “Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

15 When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. 17 And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. 18 And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. 20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

It’s Wednesday and my head is spinning.

Like literally.

Spinning.

I’m thinking it’s a weird flu.  Or vertigo.

Or I’m dying.

I’ve made the executive decision NOT to Web MD my symptoms.

Because I have a feeling my prognosis would not be good.

Web MD is always so rude.

Halloween has come and gone.

Wolf/skunk/panda/puppy made a last minute change to Target clearance Cleopatra.

Minnie Mouse ran screaming like a crazy woman all over the neighborhood.

And repeatedly clotheslined Cleo to make it to every doorbell first.

I might have tripped into my neighbor’s front door.

And stacked super hard on their front porch.

I will just say that my new iphone case is effective at preventing screen cracks.

And my neighbor’s porch is effective at creating lumpy knee bruises.

HOT MESS, I am.

November’s PinterTest Kitchen is tomorrow!

I loved Erin’s post from last month.

Mostly because she whitened my teeth in the picture she posted.

But also because she is a wonderfully creative writer.

And an all-around awesome person.

What are you making?

I’m trying two recipes having to do with these:

With a spinning head.

Which is good times.

And I need to clean this:

Because it’s not a very pretty test kitchen.

 Be sure to grab a button and link up tomorrow!

<center><a border="0" href="http://keepupwiththejohnsons.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae285/jessjohnson624/PinterTestButtonFINAL.jpg" /></center></a>

P.S. Previous button had a little glitch in Blogger.

This one is new and improved.

Let me know if you still have issues.

There are quite a few perks available when your dad owns a tugboat company.

Like having the best seat in the house for San Francisco’s Fleet Week festivities.

I also had a tugboat named after me once.  For a few months.

Then it was sold on Ebay, sailed to Mexico and scrapped for parts.

Adios Delta Jessica.

My dad, along with his two partners Ron Charlesworth and Jack Going bought BayDelta Tugs in 1993.

They worked crazy hard for 18 years to build one of the most well-respected companies on the San Francisco Bay.

They sold BayDelta last month and are somewhat officially retired.

My dad’s new job is calling the San Jose Mercury crossword hotline from the closet so my mom won’t see.

If you’re really quiet, when you walk into their house you can hear him.

Whispering near the suits he once wore.

“13 down, please.  OK, OK.  Got it.  Now 27 across.”

Anyway, back to the festivities.  Not aboard the Delta Jessica.

Awesome photo credits to Dave.

Bonus points if you can identify the celebrity on board pictured here with Jack’s wife, Billie.

Hint: Dave greeted him with the following: “Thank you for making my childhood such a memorable one.”

Hint: Dave is obsessed with sports.

Hint: The celebrity caught a REALLY important pass in 1981.

Super fun day.  Super perfect weather.

And, due to the sale, likely the last year it will happen.

I petitioned for a “Fleet Week forever” clause in the sale agreement.

But it was scrapped.  Like my boat.

She knew that the immediate family was going up to the city for dinner at the Fairmont.
But had no clue that 75+ friends were waiting at a dive down the street.
A dive with a really fun band.

My dad called to book The Cheeseballs over a year ago.
And they said the Red Devil Lounge was their favorite small venue.
So the Red Devil it was.

Now, mom’s not much of a “lounge” girl.
Especially a lounge on Polk Street in downtown San Francisco.
And I was a little worried that she might be mortified that the word “devil” was on her invite.

But she adjusted.
And we had an absolute blast.

Pre-party/diversion dinner at Laurel Creek in the Fairmont.
It was fancy.

Ashlyn broke Dave’s good lens last week.  Leaving us with the super zoom lens only.
Which is really only good for sporting events.  Or if you’re paparazzi.  Not good at all for birthday parties.
Kennah was pretty much standing in the hotel lobby to take this picture.

Back to the diversion dinner.  My dad and the birthday girl.

Yours truly with my favorite husband.

My brother, Branden and his wife, Kennah.

My cousin Kim and her Giants/Niners-loving husband, Kevin.  Dave always sits near him.

My mom’s brother Frank, my Aunt Liz and my cousins, Jake and Frankie.

My mom and dad with her little brothers, Frank and Steven.

My beautiful Aunt Rachelle, married to Uncle Steven.

My dad and Grandmums.  She always sits near him.

Dinner reservations were at 6:00.  Real party started at 7:30.
Food arrived around 7:10.  We ate fast.
And abandoned our original plan of casually walking by the Red Devil Lounge after dinner.

Dad decided that the new plan was to go to a craft fair.
But we had to ditch the cake and hurry because tickets were about to sell out.
A craft fair on a Wednesday night on Polk Street.
That you have to buy tickets for. Tickets that sell out.
More important than a beautiful, delicious birthday cake.
100% believable.

We took cabs because we were running a bit late.

What you’re about to see is the face of one very surprised 60-year-old.
In a lounge that she thinks is a craft fair ticket booth.

Then the band started and so did the dancing.  And it never stopped.

Let’s do it again next year, ok mom?
Happy, happy birthday!  We love you.

We met Mat Kearney last night.

I annoyingly overshared.

On Facebook.

Twitter.

Instagram.

I almost want to unfollow myself.

Sorry about it all.

My overexposure filter was severely compromised.

By the bliss of the whole experience.

I love Mat.

I’ve loved him since Dave used his song “All I Need” in a video a few years ago.

The song is about Hurricane Katrina and Mississippi.

We had just returned from one of our trips there.

It was 2007. Our 8th anniversary.

And it fell on a Tuesday. Youth group night.

I was borderline pouting because I wanted to go out to a nice dinner.

Instead, I was eating nachos and apple wedges and playing 4-on-a-couch with high schoolers.

Then, right before worship, I heard Dave tell Timmy to “hit it.”

And this started.

And I was a slobbering, humbled mess.

Perfectly content with my nachos.

Back to last night.

Now, I realize that I’m starting to sound like a freak-o groupie.

First New Kids on the Block.

Now this.

I promise I’m not.

We literally ran into the guy on our way out.

He opened for Owl City last night at the Warfield.

And we ditched Owl City about three songs in.

Because their front man had weird, distracting, flailing hand movements.

And talked about blue sweatpants.

Weird dude.

Think Angels and Airwaves meets Toto.

Anywaysss.

Peace out, Owl.

As we were leaving, Mat was outside waiting by his tour bus.

For his true fans.

The ones that came for him only.

The ones that left early.

Us.

Only us.

I snapped this picture right before Dave saw him.

Dave: “That’s probably not Mat Kearney right there.”

Me and Margaret (in unison): “GET.  OUT.”

Margaret leaped.  In the air.

I didn’t.  Because I’m not a groupie.

We casually approached. He was super nice.

Which equalled ample photo ops and small talk.

Val told him Marc was a cop in San Francisco.

So they chatted about a cop show that he likes.

Bry asked if he remembered him from the last show.

And he said he did.

But he might have just said that.

Because Bryan is 6’7.”

Such a mellow, humble, relaxed guy.

Just like I imagined.

Sorry, Owl.

But it was 1400% worth bailing on you.

Here ye!  Here ye!  Someone’s turning 8.

That purple recorder and the horrific sound it emits has been the bane of my existence this summer, thus far.

Who gave it to her?   I still can’t figure it out.  But I want to give it back.

Our oldest turned 8 on Friday. And we celebrated in style.  With rainbows.  And wolves.

Here’s the wolf cake.  It weighed 800 pounds.

Pop Pop and Kayla felt the need to add blinking star candles because the original decoration was not sufficient.

Did you know you can bake cupcakes in a jar?  Rainbow cupcakes, even?  Thanks for the idea, Jeannett!

Did you know that this lady makes really amazing invites, favor tags and cupcake toppers?  Thanks, Mel!

Initially, I had planned on rainbow colored ice cubes for the lemonade.

But then I realized that the lemonade would turn brown when they melted.

That’s not cute.  Or refreshing.

So we went with blue.  And the lemonade turned green.

Cute.  And refreshing.

We also had rainbow finger Jell-o which was super easy to make and fun.

But not so easy to take a picture of.

It looks 100% cuter in real life.  You’ll just have to trust me.

Or you can ask her.  It was crazy hair day at camp.  I love this little girl.

That window you see up there?  It used to have curtains.

Until Ashlyn pulled them down 30 minutes before the party started.

5 minutes after that, she dropped my phone in the toilet.

Happy rainbows everywhere.

The girls kicked daddy and the Giants game out of the living room and the official slumber party festivities began.

Cupcakes in a jar and Tinkerbell.  A magical combo.

They fell asleep around 1:00 am.  After switching beds and rooms 12 times.

Cupcakes at 10:00 pm probably didn’t help much.  But it’s once a year.

They were up early and completed the craft I forgot about the night before.

They decorated white pillow cases with fabric markers.  I stole the idea from my cousin.  Thanks, Kim!

We also read this book which was a gift from Ellen.

They left with rainbow nail polish goodie bags.

And my nails are blue right now.

Happy rainbows everywhere.

We love you, KK and hope you had a fun day!

I’ve once heard it said that you should never advertise your husband.

And I love that saying.

So hear me.  I’m not trying to advertise my husband.

I stumbled across this picture while unpacking the garage on Wednesday.

It’s my favorite picture of Dave.

And he’s not even holding one of our children.

Actually, it was taken before we even had children.

But I’m using it anyway. For a Father’s Day post.

I know it’s weird. Just stay with me.

It was taken about a year after we were married.

We were vacationing at Priest Lake, Idaho with friends.

The little baby he is holding will start 6th grade in the Fall.

His eyes are older now.

And wiser.

He’s lived so much life.

Made decisions.

Learned.

Loved.

Grown.

He was a paramedic when that picture was taken.

Working part-time in youth ministry.

Not because he had to. But because he loved to.

Now he is a pastor of a sweet little church plant.

Not because he has to. But because he loves to.

Yesterday morning, he preached on Psalm 145:4.

On how the primary role of a father is to glorify Christ to their children.

To make known to them His mighty acts and works.

As parents, we can not simply be rule givers without making known the reason for the rules.

We cannot expect our children to love and worship Christ if we don’t show them what that looks like.

I praise Jesus that the daddy to my girls is a preacher.

A good preacher.

Who lives what he preaches.

I’m well aware that I could be a wife who sits through sermons.

With children who will one day sit through sermons.

Bitter. Listening to a hypocrite. A pharisee.

Struggling to reconcile the man that we live with against the man that stands before his congregation every Sunday.

Forced to hide the fact that his words and actions don’t match up.

But I am not.  They will not.

And for that, I am thankful.

I am not saying he is perfect.

But he preaches that part, too.

He is vulnerable. And real. And kind. And gracious.

And I love him.

We love him.

Happy Father’s Day, babe.

We are so thankful for you.

My little brother got married on Friday.
It was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous.
The ceremony site.
The bride.
The flowers.
Stunning. Overwhelming.

Such an affair requires much prep.
The venue was amazing.
The ceremony was just down the road but the rehearsal dinner, lodging and reception were all in one spot.
With an on-site babysitting staff.
A camp-like feel, but SO not camp-like.
Rustic, woodsy, scenic. With air hockey. What more could you want for in life?

So fun to catch up with old, dear friends as we were getting ready. Hi Mark! You made the blog!

Videographer in training.  Very focused.

Gorgeous already.  Zero make-up.

This flower girl business is seriously tough.

Rain was in the forecast but held off.  The ceremony was lovely.  Magical.

Dave had the honor and privilege of officiating.  He also used the word “precipice” to describe the ceremony location.
Which was definitely my favorite part.  I love him.  And his fancy words.

My dad has a habit of walking people down the aisle like he’s running for office.  Sorry, Grandmums.

My mom has a habit of crying at special events.  Always.

We almost called their gig off the night before.
Basket fighting down the aisle.
Running off into the woods during rehearsal.
I was nervous. Beyond nervous.

But they were clutch. Pros.
I threatened Kayla with no wedding cake.
And Googled “how to say ‘if you don’t behave, I’ll take away all your Minnie Mouse shirts’ in ASL”
five minutes before the ceremony.
It was all very effective.

Praying for the couple.  Prize goes to Uncle B for best shot of the day.  Love this one.

That rain that was forecasted? It held off until about 5 minutes after the ceremony.
At that time it began to drizzle and dropped 20 degrees in 3.8 seconds.

The reception was fabulous, as well.  And indoors, so the weather was soon forgotten.
Delicious food, amazing music and wonderful people who celebrated into the wee hours of the morning.

The bride’s parents, Mike and Lisa Stewart.  Wonderful, kind and fun people.  Thank you for hosting such a fabulous event.

Uncle Chevy and Aunt Liz.  KIDDING.  Really, it’s Uncle Frank.  But doesn’t he look just like him??!

I wore fake eyelashes.  And am now faced with a problem that did not exist in my life previously.
Because my real eyelashes are so sad and lonely without them.  I’m looking into eyelash implants.

Behind the cake, Kennah had displayed wedding pictures of all the guests.  LOVED this touch.  So fun seeing couples reminisce over their wedding day.  Equally fun laughing at the hair and style of years gone by.  The 80′s were rough on brides.

And no party is complete until the Captain is behind the bar.  And paying the venue’s record-breaking bar tab.

Thanks Uncle Bert and JoAnn for letting my steal your beautiful pictures.  You captured the day perfectly.

And congratulations Branden and Kennah! We love you so much!