Announcement, Announcement, Announcement!

Chris got a job!!!!

As many of you know, Chris lost his job at the end of November. At the time, it seemed like poor timing--you know, right before Christmas, worst economy since the Great Depression, Idaho reaches its highest employment rate ever. However, it has turned out to be a great blessing. Yes, you read that right--lost job=big blessing.

Why?

1. New job=pay increase.

2. Pay increase=ability to purchase functioning vehicle. Current van is literally held together with bubblegum.

3. Chris taking Parker back and forth to school=increased mother sanity. Do you know how much time it takes to load three kids in the van to drive three minutes to the elementary? If you are thinking, well, obviously three minutes--wrong! More like three minutes per set of socks and shoes to find and put on, three minute potty breaks or diaper changes, three minute seat beltings, etc., etc.

4. Unemployed clean freak=super clean house.

5. Prayers, gifts, and kindness from family and friends=increased gratitude. Thank you all for your generosity towards our family. We are blessed to know you.

Out of the Mouth of My Babe

As our family silently munched on our cheapy frozen pizza dinner, McKay poked me in the arm.

"I need to whisper something in your ear."

I bent over, and she whispered, "Heavenly Father takes good care of us."

Someday I'm going to teach my children something for a change.

Kodie, Ancient of Days

Yesterday Chris introduced me to new.familysearch.org. This has been my 24 hour obsession.

Now I thought I wouldn't get into the whole family history kick for another 30, 40 years, but let's face it---I already act like an 80 year old woman. I go to bed early, and I get up early. McKay was invited to a birthday party last week that started at the ridiculous hour of 6 p.m. and lasted until, gasp, 7:30! For a girl who's usually in bed by 6:30, I knew this was going to be difficult. For a mom who usually has her pajamas on by 6:00, I knew this was going to be difficult for me as well. Luckily this late hour didn't interfere with dinner, because like the elderly, we tend to eat dinner insanely early. Some members of our family, o.k. all members of our family, tend to get irritable when hungry. So I kept moving the time we ate dinner up earlier and earlier. We rarely ever eat dinner later than 5:30. And on occasion, I am almost embarrassed to say, when I am extremely hungry we eat at 4:45. I'm pretty much a natural at the geriatric lifestyle, so it's no wonder this family history thing appealed to me.

Anyway, I started tracing me family history back through my mom's side of the family, and I noticed it just kept going. I started getting excited to think I might actually break from the quadruple digit dates into the triple ones. Sure enough I found ancestors born in the 900's. My comments ("I'm related to Warrin the Bald! I'm a bazillion great-granddaughter of Charlemagne!) attracted Parker's attention. He came over to watch our family tree unfold, and he too got caught up. "Hey, mom," he said with complete sincerity, "do you think we're related to Adam?"

So after about two hours of mouse clicking, an amazing thing happened. "Wait, a second," I mumbled. "Did I just find Judah, son of Jacob and Leah? Seriously?" Then once I hit Shem, son of Noah, I knew I was going to make it. And yes, I traced my heritage all the way back to Adam!

"Chris! Chris!" I exclaimed, "I traced my family history back to Adam!"

"Congratulations."

"You're not acting excited enough."

"You're acting like you actually did the research."

"I just spent two hours of my life clicking a mouse. Seriously hard work."

"Call your mom. She can be excited with you."

She was. Thank you, mom.

Friday Night at the Davises

Me: "It's Friday night, family, what are we going to do?"

Parker: "Buy candy bars."

Chris: "I know, first we clean the house--"

Me: "No cleaning! We are not spending Friday night cleaning."

Chris: "O.k., how about we watch movies. Each person can take turns picking a half hour show. So Deacon could pick Bob the Builder, McKay, My Little Pony, Parker, Bakugan...."

Me: "Can I read a book during this movie event?"

Chris: "If you read on the couch and pretend your part of the family."

Me: "Wait. Change my mind. I'm going to head to my scrapbook closet and scrapbook instead."

Chris: "You know, you used to be fun and social. Now you want to lock yourself up in your little cave surrounded by paper."

Me: "Ahh, blessed paper. Paper that never asks for a drink of water or writes on the couch with marker."

Chris: "Fine, if you don't want to be fun...."

Me: "Yep."

Chris: "....then I'm just going to straighten up a little...."

Chris heads upstairs, and in some Tom Sawyeresque plan, convinces Parker that it would be fun if he helps clean. Meanwhile, I notice McKay downstairs, struggling with a blanket.

McKay: "Mommy, could you please cover me with the blanket?"

Me: "Why?"

McKay: "If daddy finds me, he'll make me help him clean."

I cover her with the blanket and go upstairs to change Deacon's diaper and put him in his pajamas. When I come back downstairs to check on McKay, this is what I found.

As for our Friday night, I scrapbooked, and Chris and Parker had a Bakugan-watching marathon.

As I walk by I hear Chris asking Parker, "What happened to Dan Kuso in the Doom Dimension?"

Yes, a fun time was had by all.

Out of the Mouth of Boys

Today I placed Deacon's lunch in front of him only to hear him utter these words: "Ewww. Gross."

Parker also had something to say today. Sniffing his pillow he exclaimed, "Mom, this pillow smells so good!"

"That's because I washed it yesterday."

"Oh. I just thought it was head sweat."

Confessional

I have a confession to make--today I organized my spices. I feel like I need to come clean about my cleaning. You see I married a Davis, a slightly OCD, anal-retentive, organized-crazed, lovable clean freak.

When Chris met me, I had an organization system. I had a laundry basket for dirty clothes. I also had a large purple Rubbermaid, I called "the clothes not dirty bin." When I threw off my clothes, they landed into one of the two bins. This was an improvement over my previous system in which all types of clothing landed on the floor. They say opposites attract....

"O.k," I told my new fiancé, "we've got to lay down some ground rules."

He eyes me nervously, "Like what?"

"Cleaning rules. I have a system, you know."

"Are you talking about your clothes not dirty bin?"

"Yes. Don't mess with the system!"

"O.k."

"Don't get mad when the house is messy when you come home. If you want the bed made you're going to have make it yourself."

"Anything else?"

"I don't kill spiders."

"Deal."

Fast forward two years into the marriage. I jump into the shower only to be confronted with a big black hairy spider.

"Aaagh! Chris! Chris!" I yell, running into the bedroom, dripping water all over my sleeping husband. "There's a big, hairy black widow spider in the shower."

"Black widows aren't hairy."

"Are you going to come kill it?"

"No, I'm going to sleep."

"I hate you."

"By the way, I organized your closet for you yesterday. Your clothes are now arranged by type, then sub-organized by color."

Fast forward seven years into the marriage, and we buy a brand new house. This home contains a few pieces of furniture, that for the first time in our marriage we purchased new rather than at a yard sale.

Me: "Family, do you see this cookie ground into the couch? Do you see the stains on the carpet? Do you see the grime collecting around the bathroom sink? Do you know who did this? Us. We can no longer blame our filth on fifty years of past owners. McKay, get out the broom. Parker, get out the vacuum. Deacon, get out the toilet brush. It's time we got to cleaning."

And today as I made cookies with my kids, noticing I had multiple open jars of baking powder, I thought, the time has come. The time to organize my spices on my own like a true Davis. It's a big day for me.

The Business of Motherhood

This morning I've finally pulled on shoes, zipped up a coat, and backpacked McKay. We are actually inching towards the garage on our way to preschool. "Wait!" she screeches. "I need to wear a necklace!" Well what girl doesn't? One flowered necklace later, we are driving to preschool, both of us singing along to the "Barbie and the Three Musketeers" soundtrack. As we loudly sing the lyrics, "Don't mess with the dress" together, I'm realizing what a perfect moment it is. Flower necklaces, Barbie, singing--this is why I got into the whole mothering business.

I arrive home from dropping McKay off at preschool in time to get a phone call from the school nurse. "Mrs. Davis? Parker's had a little accident and needs some dry clothes." So I get back in the van and head to the school with dry clothes. While I wait for Parker to change, the nurse feels compelled to make small talk. "So how's your day going?" "Well," I tell her, "I'm hoping to do my hair before noon."

Now you may be wondering, much as I was, why my seven year old is peeing his pants at school. So I probed Parker at the dinner table.

"Why didn't you tell your teacher you needed to go to the bathroom?"

"Because if you go to the bathroom during class you have to pay her money." (Parker's teacher has a reward system where the students earn money to spend in their classroom store on Fridays.)

"So why didn't you pay her money?"

"It's like this. Say you want something at the school store that costs two dollars, and you have two dollars. But then you give Mrs. Roberts a dime to use the bathroom. Guess what? You can't buy it on Friday."

"Well, then why didn't you use the bathroom at recess?"

"Because I was playing kickball at recess. My team would have lost the game without me. I got Cameron and Madison out, and they are both really good kickball players."

"Then if you don't use the bathroom at recess, and you don't go during class, when are you going to go?"

"When I get home after school."

"That is not humanly possible."

"I did it once."

"O.k. here's the rule. You go to the bathroom at recess. End of story."

"Awwww..."

"Parker, when are you going to go to the bathroom?"

A grin spreads across Parker's face. "I know...during my spelling test."

Yep, that's what I signed up for--grinning, teasing, all-boy boys.

Today Deacon didn't play in the toilet once. That makes the day almost perfect in itself. (However, I did catch him on Chris's weight bench using the plunger as a barbell.) But Deacon decided to top a toilet-free day. He walks up to me, dragging his blue and white bunny blanket Linus-style behind him, and simply says, "Mommy. Blanket. Cuddle."

I think that must have been written in the mommy job description under compensation. Because why else would we do it? The hours are lousy. There's zero vacation time. My children are yet to come pre-potty trained. But the happy, teasy, cuddle perks....that's what gets me out of bed in the morning. That and McKay.

Sleeping In

This morning when McKay crawled into my bed at 5:45, I tried explaining to her that it was the middle of the night, and she needed to go back to bed. Of course this didn't work. I try it every morning, and it never works. When Parker asked me for an alarm clock I exclaimed, "Are you kidding? We have McKay. Mom and dad don't even set their alarm clock anymore."

So I rolled over and went back to sleep while McKay, in typical fashion, sang made up songs and patted my head. By 6:45, however, Parker was awake and in our bed, and I could hear Deacon kicking the wall in his crib.

"Alright," I mumbled, "time to get up and get ready for church." Then I realized something. I could only breathe out of my mouth, one of my sinuses had possibly exploded in the night, and every muscle ached. I started kicking Chris. "I feel awful," he mumbled. Apparently our children's colds had migrated to their parents.

"Let's go back to bed," I suggested to him. We had one little problem with that plan, well, actually three--Parker, McKay, and Deacon. But Chris took the kids downstairs, gave them bagels, turned on Veggie Tales, and fell asleep on the couch. I had the king size bed all to myself. Ahh, bliss. At least until Veggie Tales was over. Then Deacon started banging a container on me he wanted open, and McKay crawled in right next to me. "Let's pretend I'm a mommy kitty, and you are my owner, and I have a baby kitty named Pinky Candy Cane...." Still, my willpower was strong. I was determined to sleep. "O.k., Pinky Candy Cane," I mumbled, closing my eyes. "No! Pinky Candy Cane's still in my tummy! But she's about to be born..." I hear the zip of footsie pajamas. As the first C-section by zipper is performed, I'm dozing out of consciousness.

This lasts for a good twenty minutes before something wet lands on me. Something very wet, soaking even. And that something is Deacon. I'm instantly awake and instantly confused. Did I leave the kids' bath water in the tub over night? I didn't think so, but I could think of no other way in which a child could be this saturated in water. "You're wet," I tell Deacon, as I unzip his jammies. "Wet," he replies. "Potty wet." What? Did I just get a full body toilet water hug? I rush to the bathroom to find the toilet and the ground covered in water. Umm....toilet hug? That would be a yes.