The Lackluster Lawn: A Tale of Woe

Our lawn has had a rough year. First the toadstool invasion. Then the irrigation system that provides water to our sprinkler system has been overwhelmed, causing little to no water throughout the summer. Then we discovered billbugs when we ripped our sod up to put in the hedge. Last night when I was emptying the kiddie pool, I stepped in something. A hole. More specifically, a vole hole. That's when I noticed something. There were a lot of holes. Since my children are the type to break their fingers in vole traps and eat poison for fun, we've decided to go the natural route. Free kittens.

We have bad luck with cats. They flee our house. The first kitten our neighbors stole. She told us, "Your cat was happier at our house then yours." Probably true. The next one lived with us for six months, before he followed Parker to school and never returned. But ever confident, that someday a cat will find us tolerable to live with, Parker and McKay each got a new kitten today. We'll see how long these ones last. As Chris put it, "If they keep running away, then we will be helping to start a feral cat colony that will keep the voles down anyway."

Our neighbor, MaKenna, and McKay holding her kitten, "KitKat."


Parker with his kitten "Bob."

I Have a Hedge Now

Putting in my hedge has made me realize how many nice people there are in the world. (Sorry in advance for cheesy post. I promise to return to my normal cynicism next time.) First, when the Home Depot guy noticed my overflowing cart of boxwoods, without being asked, he loaded all the shrubs into my cart and then into my van. Then when our neighbor saw Chris ripping out the sod, he came over and helped Chris rip it all out. The next night a different neighbor came over and moved our sprinkler heads for us. This left us with the odious task of planting 52 shrubs in what some refer to as "soil" but in all actually would be better called a "gravel pit." So with half our planting left to do, I came out in the 95 degree heat and attempted to dig something like thirty holes during Deacon's nap.

A half an hour, and one and half pathetic holes later, I was about to give up. That's when I noticed two guys approaching me. As you may or may not know, I live in a construction zone, and these were two workers on a break from working on the house across the street. "Do you need help?" they asked. This was when I began to justify my poor shoveling skills. "Well, the ground is so rocky, and it's so hot..." Of course these excuses were lost on people who had been laying cement in the heat of the day for several hours. One of the men took my shovel out of my hands without a word, and the other one asked if I had another. I quickly found one, and twenty minutes later all thirty holes were dug! I went inside to get them a drink, and when I came back out they had put all the shrubs into the holes! This from people I had never seen before, and who I have never seen since. The concrete was done, and they were gone the next day. Their kindness saved me like a million hours of work.

So, all this kindness towards me has inspired me to be a nicer person. I told Chris, "I'm going to start being a nice wife." To which he responded, "Honey, I love you just the way you are. And if you started being nice that just wouldn't be you." (He was joking.) (I think....)

One Big Happy Family

We just got back from a Davis family reunion. The reunion was a week jam-packed with activities and people, and in typical Kodie fashion, I left my camera in the suitcase for the majority of it. So, uh, no pictures of Bingo night, the baseball game, swimming, or seeing the Titanic museum exhibit. I'll just savor the memories... Here are some of the few pictures I managed to take.

The best part of the week was that Parker did not die. Now, Deacon is typically the child I find myself in ERs and doctor offices with, but Parker won the "most injured child" honor this week. Imagine driving a four wheeler at top speed into a metal building, and you will have pictured Parker's Thursday morning event. I am so glad I am an overly protective, slightly paranoid mother who made Parker be the only child wearing a helmet. Otherwise we would have ended up with injuries a lot worse then a seriously bruised wrist. And, yes, he's just fine now. His wrist is constantly hurting, we're on our second bottle of ibuprofen, he can't move it very well, but it's not broken. The downside is now I'm doing up zippers and buttons, opening doors, and seatbelting my seven year old in, because he can't move his arm. I keep trying to explain to him that he has two hands, but he's not convinced.

Happy Birthday Chris

McKay: "Is Daddy turning one?"

P.S. (Yes, that is a red bandanna and a headlamp strapped to his head.)

Deep Thoughts from McKay

The following questions falling from McKay's lips, have left me fumbling for an answer.

--Does Jesus like spicy food?

--How do ladybugs sleep?

--If you put powder, water, and a balloon together what would you make?

--How about water, Legos, and throw-up?

Parker Turns Seven

Wednesday was Parker's seventh birthday. Not to brag, well actually to brag, the Transformers party I threw for Parker was fairly impressive. Not as impressive as the mess afterwards, however.

Kodie the Brave

Big Announcement: Today I killed a hobo spider.

I am not a spider-killer by profession for a good reason--spiders are creepy. So usually when I see a spider I call Chris to kill it. If he's not here, then I go far away from the spider, pretending it doesn't exist. However, when I saw a hobo spider in my kids' outdoor toy box, I knew I had to act. The thought of the hobo mistaking my children's hands as spider food was terrifying. So I grabbed the closest available weapon, a plastic purple child-size garden hoe, and tried bludgeoning the thing. Here's something you may not know: Hobos are very fast spiders. The creature was zipping all around the box, over balls and bats and through toy trucks. I chased it with my hoe, screaming the entire time, but to no avail. So I ran to the garage, grabbed some insect poison and began dousing it. It would not die. Finally, about half a gallon of bug spray later, it started to slow. I decided I would have to go for the spider squash. I hate squishing bugs, because often they have a Lazarus-like quality. Just when you think they're dead and your screams have subsided, Bam! Up they pop. But I gathered up every last morsel of courage, and squished that spider. Eeewww! I still have goose bumps.

I have conquered the spider. And the toy box is once again safe. That is, it will be safe once the gallon of poison dries....

Strong

Parker was sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch when the whining began. "I have eczema and asthma and a lazy eye. If you made a list of everything that was wrong with me, I bet there would be one hundred things. Why does it happen to me?"

Sensing a great teaching moment, I explained, "Heavenly Father gives you those things to make you stronger. If you learn from those things, you will be a stronger person."

A big grin spreads across Parker, and I am thinking, I am such a great mom right now. This totally cancels out me yelling at him to stop driving me crazy before I paddled his bum. My inner celebration is soon cut short. Parker lifts up the sleeve of his shirt, makes a muscle, and asks, "O.k. how much stronger am I now?"