my perennial favorites

so I’ve heard

2012-02-15T13:33:00.000-08:00

Ah, the serene life of a mormon mommy blogger. Happily typing away on her clean, no fingerprints here! keyboard about the wondrous life of raising a family. Putting into words the hilarious moments of being a mother accompanied with timeless wisdom for others to read.

And what happens when a kid/s comes in bored or hungry or angry or crying wanting this perfect mother’s attention?

“Be quiet for just one minute! Can’t you see I’m busy! Just give me a break here!! For crying out loud!!”

This is not autobiographical in any way.

hello, again.

2012-02-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

I have officially ended my seven month hiatus.

A hiatus, you ask? Doing what? Two words: Home. Schooling. I am not doing this anymore. (More on this later. I am still recovering.)

I can now blog again. And clean the house. And read my scriptures. And water the plants. And take a walk if I want to. And shower. And several other things that were not so feasible when telling the children to write their vocabulary words ten times. Or concentrating on not only teaching my 2nd grader her addition facts (math? bleh!) but not pulling my hair out at the same time.

It’s so nice to see them get on the bus.

But it’s also nice to see them come home. I’m refreshed and welcoming with a warm smile and a hug.

say cheese

2011-10-25T13:02:00.001-07:00

Thanks to a recent Dads-Night-To-Cook, I have discovered that fried cheese is probably healthier than regular cheese. No way, Jose, you say? I jest not. (I am 93.875% sure on this!)

The reason being is that when you fry cheese in a skillet, there is always fat and oil left in the pan after the cheese is fried to a yummy crisp. Try it and you will see I am right.

I think this is very valuable information. Imagine all you dieters that can now break free! Break free from not eating cheese and eat fried cheese instead!

Yeah, feels good.

this is the place

2011-06-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

How often do you get to walk the same ground that your great-great-great grandfather walked? We happened to do just that over the weekend at Pineview Reservoir for a family reunion. Dad was in charge this year and, ever the sentimental fella that he is, decided it would be best to throw in a little familiar education while we ate our potluck under the pavilion at the lake.

So we learned about Joseph Stallings. He was a convert to the church from Maryland that headed out west and homesteaded 250 acres in a quaint little valley by the reservoir in Utah. Can I say gorgeous? I was about to pack up my own belongings and homestead my own third-of-an-acre-on-a-corner-lot.

We were able to tour the property where he lived and took pictures of the original home that he built and, just as exciting, see the original outhouse that he used (where I’m sure a lot of great ideas were born.) We also got to see the local church that he helped to build, and a few other historical landmarks.

The most exciting thing about the whole trip, though, was hearing Dad tell how he knew about the place in the first place. He told us that a few years ago, while my mother’s family was vacationing in the area, he decided to go for a drive and just see if he couldn’t gather some info about this man. He knew that he had settled in the general area, he just didn’t know where.

He drove around and finally stopped at a house hoping someone might know something that could help him. Dad knocked on the door and an older gentleman answered. Dad asked if he had ever heard of a Joseph Stallings or had any information that could help him on his quest.

Well...

This is the place, he was told. The man just happened to be Joseph Stallings' grandson and Dad just happened to knock on the door of the very house that Joseph Stallings had built.

Of all the houses in the valley, it was the right place. Coincidence? I don’t think so. But, you decide.

what a gas

2011-06-07T15:02:00.000-07:00

We have been having family dinner now for quite some time. It is quite revolutionary. But, I will save these reasons for another post.

Sometimes while we are eating we will play a game where someone starts a story and we each tell an addition of the story until we either run out of food or the character ends up dying. We try to always let the girls start the story because as soon as either Roman or Greggory share their part of the story the main character usually dies. And for no logical reason. Actually, most of the time the cause of death is from the character’s bowel movements or some gaseous explosion, aka, it farts to death.

So you can see why we like Brooklyn to start the story. We even give Holland a chance to add on, making up sentences from her burbles, trying desperately to drag the story on as long as possible until the inevitable death that awaits.

Yesterday, I was fed up with all the farts. A: we are eating. B: we are eating and C: we are at least trying to make this somewhat educational and so far it was back-firing. (haha) I told the boys that from now on farts and death were banished from our story game. They took it pretty well considering I just wiped out all of their material.

Brooklyn then started the story (I still didn’t completely trust the boys) about a rock named Fluffy. The plot grew and another character, Herman, a sting ray, was introduced. So far, so good. Roman’s turn. More plot. No farts. Great.

And then, I hear this:

Roman: ...then Fluffy dug and dug a big hole...

Gregg (muttering to himself): and then he farted (suppressed giggling)

Roman: ...and they found a key that unlocked the treasure...

Gregg (still thinking that no one can hear him): and then he showed his bum to people (more giggling)

Roman: ...and they rushed through the forest...

Gregg: and he farted! (more giggling)

At this point Roman hears Greggory and just bursts out laughing. And I can’t help it, I start laughing, too. Of course, this encourages Roman and he adjusts his thought mid-sentence and kills the character by, you guessed it, farting to death.

I don’t know if it’s the boys who will never learn. Or me.

diplomatic insult

2011-06-07T14:57:00.000-07:00

Today I overheard Roman telling Greggory that he was “close to an idiot”.

Of course I told Roman to not call his brother an idiot, it wasn’t nice.

Roman told me that he did not call him an idiot. He said he was close to an idiot so he actually wasn’t being mean.

Yeah, I guess he had a point.

butte-iful day

2011-05-31T08:54:00.000-07:00

What’s more fun on Memorial Day than climbing an old volcanic butte?

How about carrying a 28 lb. toddler on your back, having it rain AND hail, and having your seven year old daughter literally thinking she was going to die and not caring if the whole valley knew about it.

But, hey, that’s what good family memories are made of.

The highlight? Seeing my sons excitement knowing they have walked in a real volcano.

cookie {and} monster

2011-05-27T08:48:00.000-07:00

I asked Greggory what he wanted for breakfast this morning and he told me he wasn’t hungry because he had a nightmare about a whale last night. I must have appeared confused because he added that the whale was eating him.

Okay...

He then explained that because of this horrible nightmare, he had to wake up in the middle of the night and eat all the chocolate chip cookies out of the cookie jar (which happened to be about eight).

And therefore, would not be eating breakfast today.

Well, I’m just glad they were oatmeal chocolate chip.

flower child

2011-05-26T13:45:00.001-07:00

Little girls and dandelions. Is there a sweeter combination?

the shoe must go on

2011-05-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing. Holland has an adorable fetish with shoes and that pretty much sums it up. There's no funny story behind the scenes, or freak accident--she just likes shoes. Of all kinds. It doesn't matter if they are men's, woman's or her brothers. She'll try on whatever comes her way.

I think it's cute. And I think she's cute. What more is there to say?

This is Holland liking the fact that I'm taking so many pictures.

"Maybe if I play dead she'll go away."

ride on

2011-05-16T09:01:00.000-07:00

It seems almost cruel. Especially to a sweet little boy.

Last week was our week-long season of Spring where we live. We celebrated by planting flowers, pulling out the kiddie pool and buying the long-anticipated new bike for our oldest son. Which meant that the older, smaller bike immediately was inherited by the younger, smaller brother. He couldn't have been more delighted. As soon as we strapped on those training wheels he was off! Well, after several pushes from his mother. We watched as he circled slowly around the cul-de-sac past our house. Weee! We heard him say. The rest of the day was spent on that bike, circling slowly, around and around.

Yesterday. The little guy wakes up excited to ride his new bike. Well, it's Sunday, and we get to do other activities on Sunday, so we explain that he needs to wait until Monday. He nods, trying hard to be patient.

Today. Today's the day! The first words out of his mouth were not his usual launch about the urgency of eating right away, but are declarations to ride his bike! I convince him to have his breakfast first. He agrees. After his oatmeal, he manages to ride around the circle a couple of times, then comes in, defeated. It's cold, he says.

And so it is. And so it will remain (with chance of showers) for the rest of the week. I'm trying to decide if printing out a picture of a bike for him to color would be therapeutic or torture.

privacy, please

2011-05-10T19:01:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm going private. Who wants in?

here's something

2011-03-29T14:16:00.000-07:00

So, here's a thought:

Actually, that's the problem. I haven't had many lately. I blame it on the weather. I mean, it can't even make up its mind to decide if it's spring or winter. Unfortunately, right now it's leaning more towards winter. I guess I shouldn't be too hard on the weather, though. It must be hard being the weather. So much pressure--literally! Hahaha. Okay, that was bad--but great. Come'on, more great than bad.

Onto other non-news, here's an idea that you might like. For Family Home Evening the other week we decided it would be fun to draw names in our family for "secret service". Basically we do things for the person who's name we drew throughout the week in secrecy.

This week, Brooklyn drew Roman's name and he could not, for the life of him, figure out who wrote him the I love you note that was shoved under his bedroom door. All week long he studied the note, trying to figure out who the author was. He finally narrowed it down by reasoning that because the y in you looked like a number four, then the writer had to be the age of four. You can imagine his shock and surprise when he learned on Sunday that it was actually his sister of seven.

Overall, it's been a success. But just when I think my children are learning the value and purpose of service, Roman draws his secret name and immediately starts groaning, No! Not him!!

Poor Greggory.

weston v. toilet

2011-03-16T08:06:00.000-07:00

I was gone one evening. That alone calls for a minor catastrophe at the Davis household. Not that Weston isn't capable of holding down the fort--he is very qualified--he just seems to attract catastrophes sometimes.

Weston told me that he had sent the boys to brush their teeth. After hearing certain non-brushing noises such as hollering and crying, he went in to investigate. Roman accused Greggory of flushing his toothbrush down the toilet and Greggory readily agreed. He never explained his purpose for flushing it down the toilet. My own theory is that he just grew tired of looking at it day after day and figured it was time for a change. I mean, what really possesses little boys to do the things they do? So, grumbling, I'm sure, Weston went and grabbed his homemade Something's-Stuck-In-The-Toilet-Snatcher-Grabber made from a bent wire clothes hanger and fished in after it.

I had to ask, however. Did Roman get a new toothbrush? (You never know with husbands). He said, yes, he figured that having his toothbrush flushed beyond sight was grounds for a new one.

Well, that was good.

greggory, part mr. hyde

2011-02-13T17:24:00.000-08:00

Lately, whenever agitated or provoked or actually for no reason at all, Greggory has been retorting with a "Well, you're an idiant!" Meaning to say idiot, of course.

I keep telling him that we do not call people idiants. Well, it's not nice, for one. I also keep debating with myself on whether to enlighten him on his mispronunciation. I mean, what if when he's 17 and in a fit of anger calls someone an idiant to their face? Not very intimidating. Not that I want Greggory to be a bully, but he really should correctly pronounce any threats.

It reminds me of a story that my dad told me about a student of his when he taught high school. If I recall it correctly, my dad asked him a question in class, and when the student didn't know the answer he retorted, "What am I? D-U-M?"

Perhaps.

I don't know if I will correct Greggory or not. But in the meantime, the word "idiant" will be put on our Words That We Do Not Say Because They Are Naughty List.

picnic in the hall

2011-02-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

This morning after I sent Brooklyn and Roman off to school, I was embarking on the task of cleaning up breakfast when little Greggory asked me if I wanted to play with him.

"Sure," I said. That sounded more fun than doing dishes. "What are we going to play?"

"Restaurant," he said, and continued, "I'm the Ice Cream Man and you sit here and then I'll give you ice cream and a toy."

I sat licking my fake ice cream--which happened to be a stack of rubber tires on a stick--and asked him if he wanted any food.

"No," he said knowingly, "Ice Cream Men don't eat." I nodded, agreeing with him. Soon Holland wandered over. I told her to sit down, too. Greggory, the Ice Cream Man, handed her a plate with a plastic turkey on it. She watched how I nibbled on my ice cream and then pretended to nibble on her food, too. Except her food got a lot wetter than mine.

We sat for a few minutes in the hall. I was thinking, this is so fun. And Greggory and Holland and the kids get to do this every day. What have I been doing all these years?

"Mom?" Greggory asked.

"Yes?"

"Guess what. I love you." He stated it matter-of-factly.

"Guess what, Greggory?" I asked him.

"Ladybugs don't bite?" He answered.

"Yes. And I love you, too."

"Yep."

just in case you haven't had enough (of mice)

2011-01-12T09:42:00.001-08:00

On Sunday, I was talking to my Dad about our mouse, er, problem (which, by the way, I feel that we are winning the rodent war at our house) and he told me a story about a man he once met in England while my Dad was serving a mission there. This man had been walking around his house at night one time and accidentally stepped on a pack-rat (I hate it when that happens!). For you vermin ignoramuses, pack rats are not small creatures. And he knew that if he took his foot off this rodent that it would bite and attack him.

Now, what would you do? Find a book? Get comfortable? Pray for wings? Make a mental note to call a realtor in the morning? Maybe.

Well, this unfortunate man did none of those things. He stomped the heck out of it with his other foot. (I pray this never happens to a one-footed person) And went back to bed. (Maybe he washed his feet first?) Aye, he's a brave Englisher.

So there you go. I probably wouldn't share this story at bedtime with the youngins', but you all did learn something today. You know, just in case this ever happens to you.

You're welcome.

we resolve

2011-01-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

Our family's goals for this year:

Weston: To be home by 6:00 for dinner. (I may have helped with that one.)

Brigette: To have the house at Weston-level by the time Weston gets home at 6:00. (Weston may have helped with that one.)

Brooklyn: To be the best she can be.

Roman: To learn new tricks.

Greggory: To help Dad build things and to get a whooping crane.

Holland: To learn to say, "I love Daddy." (Want to guess who might have helped with that one?)

mice vice

2010-12-27T12:09:00.000-08:00

So it turns out that whacking a baby mouse with a broom does not make it explode in blood and guts. Believe me, I was afraid of that.

Now, don't think that I turned to broom whacking right away, but when I saw that baby mouse zip around like he owned the place it really. freaked. me. out.

Something had to be done.

Probably when you hear or read "baby mouse" you think of a cute cuddly creature capable of no wrong. Not me. I think of breeding and infestation and extermination. You see, we've been having a sort of a mouse problem here in our house lately. Let's just say every night after we put the kids to bed it's not uncommon to see a couple of mice zip by in the kitchen. It's okay, you don't have to come visit.

Back to the baby mouse. Like I said, I didn't want to whack it right away, mostly because I was afraid of the blood and guts thing, and because the only whacker I had in the vicinity was a short 2x4 and frankly, the small surface area was too risky to try. So I tried the most humane thing I could think of and loaded a mouse trap with parmesan and placed it in the corner. And waited.

Sure enough! it smelled the cheese and came scurrying straight to the trap. ---

You know how in scary movies you see the unaware girl walk closer and closer to the bad guy and you know what's going to happen, but you can't help but watch anyway? Well, that's how it was watching this little mouse head right to it's death.

Except, (to my horror) I watched that little varmint crawl right on top of the trap, eat all of the cheese, (I could've sworn it nodded a thank you) and then crawl right off. It was so light that it didn't even trigger the dang trap.

Darn. It was up to me, now. Remember, it was not just one mouse I was killing, it was all the future babies, as well. I know, that sounds so much better.

So I gathered my courage, ran upstairs, grabbed the kitchen broom, took a deep breath, (my heart was pounding like crazy) and whacked it until it was only twitching. Okay, you probably didn't need that last part, but you only have to read it. I had to witness it.

In conclusion, am I a hero? Probably. Can I sleep at night knowing what I've done? Not really, only because I'm afraid that a mouse will run into my bedroom. But the most important thing is knowing that after having the courage to kill a baby mouse, I can do anything.

Well, almost.

discovery

2010-12-20T13:16:00.000-08:00

Do you know what an Oryctodromeus is?

No, it is not a medical procedure.

If you answered dinosaur, then you are correct. Can you name any special attributes that are characterized by this dinosaur?

Yeah, me neither. Maybe you have to be a young boy of five.

In last Wednesday's paper, I read an article on a local discovery of this creature. Knowing Roman has a love for all things prehistoric, I showed him the article and asked him if he had ever heard of an Oryctodromeus. It sounded foreign even to me and we read a lot of dinosaur books.

He said yes, and then paused before saying in an excited voice, "Those are the dinosaurs that dig into the ground!"

I said "Really?" just kind of humoring the little guy, but holy buckets! the next sentence in the article was (and I quote): Oryctodromeus is noteworthy, Krumenacker and other researchers said, because it is the only dinosaur known to dig small underground burrows.

Pretty noteworthy, indeed.

i know

2010-10-26T20:53:00.001-07:00

It's been way too long.

Don't worry. You haven't missed much.

the elephant in the room

2010-08-29T16:56:00.000-07:00

For reasons that only make sense if you are two years old, Greggory used the Elefun Game for target pee-practice while he was playing in our unfinished basement downstairs with the other children. I didn't get the memo, but apparently an Elefun Game makes quite a handy toilet in case of an emergency. (Emergencies can include laziness in not wanting to use the upstairs bathroom). I guess I can kind of see his point of view. They are both...shiny? with a hole in the middle?

I was less than pleased on the matter as I carried the dripping Elefun Game to the garbage. Greggory followed me upstairs, telling me that I needed to get that "thing, er rather, fing" out of the garbage and I reminded him that it was now broken because he had just peed on it.

He insisted that he hadn't peed on it, but in it so it would be fine.

On my wall, I have a sign with a quote by President Hinckley reading, Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured.

I wonder if he was including two-year-olds in that statement?

update on the dead meat

2010-08-20T12:39:00.001-07:00

As for all you blogger-naggers out there, don't complain, I've been a little busy, sheesh...

Onto the post:

My loving father called me the other day wanting to know if I wanted any of the chicken that was, um, harvested. Heck yeah! I told him right away.

He said I could even have it for free. Okay, I said a little more haltingly, thinking there must be a catch.

He said I could have as much as I wanted--I just had to come down and get it. Hmm. My suspicions were increasing with every statement.

Here it was: I only had to come down and help break their necks, pull off all their feathers, and then clean their guts out. That's it. The grand stipulation.

Oh. I thought they had already done that? Well, it turns out that there were a few chickens left--as in thirty--that they hadn't quite gotten to yet. I thought about this. Could I really do this? I mean, my great-grandmothers did this practically on a daily basis for their dinner. I wasn't really a pure-bred 21st century girl was I? Maybe if I wore long latex gloves and a face mask and closed my eyes it wouldn't be so bad. Besides, it would just be a few hours of pure torture for ten organic, hormone free, preservative free, fresh chicken. For Free.

I would do it. I wouldn't kill them, but I could clean them out. (Remember, Cheapskates go above and beyond.)

Dad called me back a few hours later. I wouldn't need to come down after all. The chickens were already headed to a local butcher where he would do all the dirty work and present a store-worthy packaged chicken for the fee of $3 a chicken.

Well, great!! That's a bargain, if you ask me!!!

dead meat

2010-07-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

I don't do a lot of posts about my father probably because I'm so busy dealing with certain minors. But that is something I will have to remedy because, you see, I have a great father. And when I say great I don't mean great as in future president great, but something even better. He's great at all the important stuff. He's also great at keeping it real.

He owns a big company, but underneath he's a farmer through and through. He's also a get-her-done kind of guy.

For example, we have a big family reunion today. We've been planning this reunion for many months and everyone in the family is very well aware about it.

I called my mother to enquire about today's events and exasperated she told me that she hasn't even starting to get ready for the reunion. The one that starts today. I asked her what she was up to and she told me that she was cleaning her kitchen. And then she was going to sanitize it.

Okay, that's not really a thing I would do in preparation for a huge family reunion but whatever floats her boat.

Then she told me that the reason that she needed to do this was because my father woke up this morning and maybe to mark the occaision of the big reunion, or maybe not (who am I to say?) went to his farm, beheaded thirty-five chickens that he had been raising for meat, brought them home and announced to my mother that he and the boys were gonna clean 'em out right there on the counter.

My mother, having been married for 30 years to this man, eventually relented knowing that she didn't really have a choice as there was the issue of the chickens dripping blood on her floor. My father, having been married for 30 years to this woman, should have known that she may not have liked doing this a) at all, and b) on the day of her family's reunion.

But, hey. At least dinner's planned.

oh boy

2010-07-28T14:10:00.000-07:00

Boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy.....

Yes, I am referring to the little boys that live in my house whom I often refer to kindly as sons, but once in a great while they act more like little hyenas--up to no good and always giggling about it.

Today, after being exiled to the yard, (and yes, I did use that exact word as I banished them outdoors) I went to check on them. They were in the garage. Besides the fact that there were cheetos all over the garage floor, which wasn't really a huge deal because they are easy to clean up, there wasn't really anything that seemed suspicious until I tried to close the garage door and it just wouldn't budge even after pressing the button several times.

Roman then explained that as the door was going up he had used it as a sort of a ride and then somehow it just stopped working.

Great.

Well, I hope Roman enjoyed his day in exile because it just may be his last. Which poses the question, is nowhere safe for young lads of, say, four and two-almost-three? I think not.

I now know why there is a foreboding phrase of "oh boy" and not "oh girl".

missing

2010-07-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

So I walked into the bathroom the other day and noticed that the toilet paper roll holder was missing. Immediately I went to find the Two-Year-Old.

I found him sitting on the couch, relaxing.

"Do you know where the toilet paper roll holder is, Greggory?"

Without taking his eyes off of the t.v., he shrugged and said, "I flushed it."

Matter-of-factly. No remorse there.

This fact was confirmed by a sudden wailing coming from the bathroom: Roman. Trying to flush his...business...down. It just wouldn't. Funny how a little thing like a toilet paper roll holder will cause such a ruckus.

Enters Weston.

At this point, I decided to join Greggory on the couch, very innocently, and wait.

Weston walks into the bathroom to help Roman. A slight pause followed. Then an outburst of Mormon swear words. A question, directed at me. (At least I assume it was directed at me.)

"Where's the toilet paper roll holder!!!" I guess it wasn't really as much an inquiry as it was a statement? Or a demand?

"Um, Greggory said he flushed it."

More Mormon swear words. And muttering as he walks into our room and comes out with a sort of fishing contraption made of hanger wire. You know, hangers really deserve much more credit than they receive. They are so useful for all sorts of things. But that's another post.

Greggory and I follow him into the bathroom for curious observation.

"Are you fishing, Daddy?" The Two-Year-Old asks in perfect innocence. (I truly think that children are born with the "innocence voice/look" as a defense mechanism to enhance their survival.)

"You're lucky." Was all he said.

cracked

2010-06-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

I can't decide.

Are graham crackers the best thing since disposable diapers, or are they really a menace to the household lurking in the cupboard?

I used to think they were a sort of a solves-all. Kids hungry? Here's a graham cracker. Kids bored? Give 'em a graham cracker. Wanna build a house? Graham cracker to the rescue. Want s'more? Graham crackers, of course.

Well.

That is until I realized that they really don't fill the kidlets up. Five minutes later it's I'm still hungry! I mean, maybe if they were made out of hummus then it would be different. Come to think of it, maybe I could make my own recipe....

Also, I do considerably more sweeping when those blasted crackers are in my house. I swear everywhere I look all I see (beside children) are crumbs!! It's on the counters, on the floors and in the cupboard. And just when I get done sweeping the kitchen clean, here comes another child munching on a...graham cracker!!! It's impossible to eat those things without making a mess. Worth it? I think not.

I don't know. What do you think?

this may be slightly gross

2010-06-29T15:54:00.000-07:00

Potty training Greggory is like giving birth.

I often hear myself saying, repeatedly, "Push, Greggory! Push, Greggory! You can do it!!...."

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

And the waiting! He'll say, Mommy! I've got to go potty!!! It's like a rocket blasts off and we rush to the toilet! But then---nothin'. So we make up potty songs and go through several false alarms and sometimes he goes. Sometimes he doesn't.

And sometimes his water will break, but it will really be pee and then I have to clean it up.

I bought him a toy tractor. That's what started this whole potty business because I figured he had to earn it, I couldn't just give it to him. And for the most part it has worked great. He's a full-time undy-wearer now.

Being the third child you would think that I have this potty-training business all figured out. Well, you would be.... wrong. All I know is that when the mother is finally ready to have the carpet cleaner as a permanent fixture in her living room, then it is time to train the child.

i'm glad i'm a mother

2010-06-16T18:12:00.000-07:00

When Greggory tells me that frankly he doesn't need breakfast because he's already eaten. Half a tub of whip cream.

When I overhear Brooklyn teaching Roman that England is an ocean and Roman agreeing, saying, "Yeah! That's the place with all the Indians!"

When I am saying my morning prayers and Greggory kneels down beside me very reverently, then passes gas very loudly, and then just in case I hadn't heard it, proclaims, "I just farted!" while giggling wildly.

When Weston tells me that during a how to brush your teeth, children demonstration and some toothpaste...stuff... accidentally falls out of Weston's mouth onto the floor, Greggory, the opportunist, quickly scoops it up with a carrot he happens to be eating to use it for dip. Egh.

When I discover that both of my daughters happen to be growing their bottom two teeth at the same time.

Watching Holland crawl for the first time and watching her eat delicious cheese pizza for the first time--and loving it.

When it's nine o'clock at night and I go in to check on the boys who are supposedly asleep and I discover them playing hawk and jumping off the top bunkbed and diving for shoes that are posing for mice.

I'm glad I'm a mother.

crime, then a loaf of bread

2010-05-29T08:20:00.001-07:00

I had never doubted our "upstanding citizen" example to our children until yesterday when we pulled into Broulim's parking lot and Roman asked,

"Mom, are we going to rob a bank, now?"

holly-olly oxen free

2010-05-16T19:01:00.000-07:00

She's baby-licious.

captain underpants

2010-05-12T09:53:00.000-07:00

I'd like to think that being resourceful is a good thing.

stiffed

2010-05-08T10:44:00.000-07:00

I learned that if I want to get a nap in during the day while my children are playing, I'll just suggest a nice game of medical school.

They are delighted to learn that I am going to be playing with them--as their cadaver subject, of course.

grocery rules 101

2010-04-27T18:17:00.001-07:00

While grocery shopping with the children, I have decided that there are certain rules that one must follow in order to have a more positive experience for all parties involved. (It also helps to ensure the safety of the children from certain angry mothers...)

1. When choosing a parking spot, park closest to the cart corral. Not only does it bring entertainment to the children when you are unloading groceries (picture: hey Roman, let's play zoo! you're a lion and this is your cage...) but it enables you to quickly deliver the cart without too much inattentiveness to your offspring.

2. Training your little ones to ride on the side of the cart is acceptable, as long as there are equal amounts of weight on both sides. Otherwise, the cart will probably tip over. Not acceptable.

3. Have your list handy and do not give it to the baby to hold. She will invariably eat it.

4. Circle the perimeter of the store to pick up the "boring" items first: fruits, veggies, meats, etc. DO NOT give treats to the rugrats until the end of the trip. Having them promise to be good while holding a tempting bag of candy never works.

5. Always be aware of where you stop your cart if you need to price something out. For example, if you need cereal, do NOT stop in front of the fruit snacks as this will cause excessive commotion. Pause, if you must, in front of the coffee. A much better alternative. Ideally, with practice, you can learn the "walk and grab technique" which doesn't allow any time for the children to be aware of potential treats.

6. Having stuffed your pockets with Corn Chex from home is handy in a pinch.

7. And lastly, to prevent all dismay and pulling out of hair, leave the children home with their father and take as long you need to. Maybe by going grocery shopping in the next city?

aye-what?

2010-04-26T06:25:00.001-07:00

Last night we played a family game of charades. Holland went first. She was a baby. Easy guess. Then Greggory. As he hadn't really caught on to the point of the game, he was a little boy chasing his sister. Another pretty easy guess. Then Brooklyn. She started flapping her arms and running around the room.

Hmmm. "Butterfly?"

No.

"Bird?"

No.

Then Roman suddenly announces, "You're a unicorn."

Yes!

Okay. Roman's turn. He climbed onto our coffee table on all fours and then started tapping the table and making animal-like gestures.

"A dinosaur!"

No.

"A woodpecker!"

No.

"An elephant?"

No.

He jumps off the table enthusiastically and exclaims, "I'm an aye-aye! It's an animal that hunts for food by tapping on the ground like a woodpecker!"

Oh, that. Maybe a different game, then?

worst

2010-04-12T21:44:00.000-07:00

Aside from the children and husband dying, and the house catching on fire, the very worst thing happened. (This may or may not have a happy ending.)

I was at Winco. With all four children.

The end.

Okay, seriously, another worst thing really happened. At Winco you have to bag your own groceries. I was doing this and then I paid the cashier for my food. I finished loading the bags into the grocery cart, gathered up the kids, walked outside to the parking lot, approached my van and then stopped cold.

I could not find my purse anywhere.

I searched the cart finding nothing and rushed back inside remembering that I had set my purse on top of the middle console where the paper bags are held. I remembered placing the change from the cashier inside my bag before loading the kids to leave. I walked straight to the spot. My purse was not there. I asked the cashier if he had seen it. He had not. I searched my cart again. No purse. Feeling quite frantic but keeping relatively calm, I thought, maybe I had dropped it on the parking lot when I was leaving? I rushed outside again. Nothing. I should mention that I was doing an awful lot of praying. I thought, go back inside and ask customer service if someone had dropped it off. I asked them. Nothing. At this point, I was at a dead end. My purse contained all of our monthly grocery cash, my cell phone, car keys, house keys, and pretty much the whole of our paper existance. I was shaken.

At customer service I wrote down my name just in case and turned around to walk to, well, I didn't really know. Then I saw a lady. She was approaching me very quickly from the other end of the store. And she was holding my purse! As I thanked her, very profusely, relief washed over me so intensely that I couldn't hold back the tears. But get this. She said that someone had left it in a cart outside.

I don't really know what to make of that.

bath and potty works

2010-04-09T11:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after hearing several unauthorized splashing sounds, I went to check on the boys in the bathtub. Sure enough, they were giggling and dumping water on each other with a bucket. The fact that the water was blue from being saturated by bar soap did not seem to deter them.

And then I realized that the bucket that they were so gleefully playing with was Greggory's training potty!!

But with all that soap in the water, I just figured the soap and the potty canceled each other out.

holland, the baby

2010-03-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

Can you believe she is already almost eight months old? Sitting up and somewhat of a talker already, she reminds me more and more of her sister at her age.

She gets plenty of love and kisses from her family and we like to have "make Holland smile" contests. But being the youngest also has its share of quandaries. At times I will hear a sudden squall in the other room and walk in to find little Holland, sitting on her haunches, completely alone, having been accidentally abandoned by her more mobile siblings. Brooklyn is pretty good about lugging her around when she is playing, but when she is at school, her brothers are somewhat less remembering about their pint-sized playmate.

But, oh, we love her! Already I can't imagine life without her. Isn't it amazing how that happens so quickly?

bauble backfire

2010-03-17T12:58:00.001-07:00

I think parents put too high of expectations upon their children.

It's bad enough that we demand them to learn all their colors and shapes before the age of three, but to insist that they actually play with the toys that we buy for them is going over the top. How could we possibly expect such an unrealistic burden?

The other day I got fed up. I couldn't remember the color of Roman's carpet (which is pretty bad considering he has the same carpet as the rest of the house) and I was plum out of creative ideas for cleaning manipulation. My sister-in-law told me an idea about hiding all of the toys if they didn't pick them up. Brilliant. So, I set the trap by asking him to clean his room. And waited.

Sure enough! Four hours later, the clutter still waited to be uncluttered. I sent him outside to play and dashed in to clean his room (ironically it only took me fifteen minutes) organized the toys by like and lugged five full totes in the dark basement. And waited again.

Roman came in and right away noticed his clean room. He excitedly thanked me for it, then slow realization dawned like a flying squirrel that jumped a foot shy of his landing.

"Mom, where are my toys?"

"Well, Roman, because you wouldn't pick them up I had to. So now they are mine."

Cue flowing tears and ensuing anger.

"How do I get them back?!?!"

"Well, you have to earn them back. Here is a basket of laundry you can put away."

Even though the whole point of the plan was to motivate him to work, I was still surprised when he immediately started folding clothes without complaining. My plan had worked!!!

Over the next few days, however, his motivation to earn his toys back decreased as he soon found new toys to play with. I was flabbergasted as his room slowly started becoming messier and messier, but this time with things like the five bags of Sleeping Beauty pullups that I had bought for him (I was actually kinda grateful that he was getting some use out of them). A handful of my kitchen utensils. Cardboard boxes. I couldn't believe it. My plan had backfired. Why should he bother working for real toys when he had an abundance of laundry baskets and shoelaces to play with? In fact, it has been a good two weeks, and he hasn't even asked about his beloved dinosaurs still waiting in the dark basement waiting to be saved.

I think they will be waiting a long time. I guess in the mean time, I am back to the drawing board.

no mumbo jumbo here

2010-03-09T13:40:00.000-08:00

Brooklyn is just about the happiest girl on the planet right about now.

Finally! After lots of encouragement, Holland started saying, mamamama, much to my delight. But, this does not make Brooklyn happy. Spurred by a competitive nature (from whom I cannot say) Brooklyn set out to teach little Holland how to say Bo Bo (short for Brooklyn).

Well, after a few days of enduring a bombardment of 'Say Bo Bo! Say Bo Bo!! SAY BO BO!!!' only a few inches from her face, Holland finally conceded and uttered a cute little

"bo bo bo bo".

Hence, Brooklyn has been beaming ever since.

on roman

2010-02-25T08:42:00.000-08:00

I was pretty pleased with myself when I came across a hot sale on pullups the other day. Wanting to take advantage of the awesome prices I grabbed as many bags as I could and walked out smiling knowing how much money I had just saved.

Much to my shock, I discovered a few days later that I had accidentally grabbed five bags of "sleeping beauty" pullups instead of the intended "car" pullups.

I tried to convince Roman that wearing sleeping beauty was actually pretty manly but unfortunately he didn't buy it. I wonder if it was because Brooklyn was begging to have them, and she doesn't even wear pullups?

Well, at least Holland will get some use out of them. In two years. They don't go bad, do they?

Roman can't ever accuse us of not having enough toys to play with. Last night at dinner, after a bit of cracker landed on my shoulder, I looked up to find Roman using a stalk of celery as a makeshift blow-dart gun.

I was actually kinda proud.

In an effort to speed things along, I said, "Roman, run fast! Like a gazelle!" He promptly turned to me and stated matter-of-factly, "Mom, Ornithomimus are a lot faster than gazelles."

Well. Pardon my ignorance on species of dinosaurs.

bathroom bombshell

2010-02-18T15:19:00.000-08:00

In case any of you were wondering, fiber chocolate chip cookies, fortified with extra fiber, are probably not the best thing to let your children snack on all day. To clear any further confusion about this, read on.

Last week I had an evening class leaving Weston to care for the young-uns. When I returned home, I knew that by the look on Weston's face that he had an unusually rough night and that maybe he needed a hug.

He told me that Roman, after a sudden I-need-to-go-potty! announcement, ran to the bathroom like the dickens, but, apparently, the three feet from the bathroom door to the toilet was a bit too far. So, doing what was only natural to a young boy, he just dropped his pants and exploded on the floor.

After letting that sink in for a minute, Weston then told me that the bathroom has never been as clean as it was right now, thanks to him.

At that point I considered telling him about the fiber chocolate chip cookies I had made earlier that day and offering him one to make him feel better. But I recognized that it probably wasn't the best time for that.

being the new kid

2010-02-09T19:55:00.001-08:00

Today I had the opportunity to go and eat lunch with Brooklyn at her school. I brought along Roman who was excited to get a glimpse of real kindergarteners in action. Brooklyn didn't know we were coming and was very excited and surprised when we suddenly sat down beside her in the classroom "pit" a few minutes before the lunch bell.

Right away she informed us of a couple of lunchtime rules to make sure we didn't get out of line--literally. Walk to the line. Stay behind your person. Don't yell. Don't run. If you do these things then Mrs. Tucker won't become the "mean teacher." I nodded solemnly and our lunchtime line proceeded down the hall and toward the cafeteria.

After being served our pizza and chocolate milk we sat down to eat. As we ate I asked Brooklyn and two noisy boys sitting across from us about their day, what they had learned and if anybody ever got white milk. They didn't remember what they had learned, their friend Kylie liked Brian because he could count to over a hundred and that was amazing, and no, nobody ever got white milk. All in all, aside from the interjections of sound effects and invisible ghosts attacking the table, a decent conversation.

After lunch, recess. Brooklyn showed us--along with about seven groupies (who knew that a mom could make you so popular?) around the playground and I showed my sweet pushing skills on the swings.

As I watched the kids playing, I couldn't help but wonder where their lives would take them in the next few years. They were so innocent. Everybody was friends with everybody else, no one cared about clothes or style or being cool and the only thing that made you stand apart was how high you could count.

What makes all of that change?

it's a dirty job

2010-01-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

On Monday, after his third dirty diaper, I asked Greggory if he wanted to use the potty like a big boy and wear undies like his big brother, Roman.

He looked at me for a moment and then said, "No, that would be dangerous."

Hmmm. He's probably right.

calm down, willya?

2010-01-25T12:50:00.000-08:00

It finally happened.

Ever since I brought my first-born home from the hospital I have been afraid to shower. Not because I think there is a monster hiding in my bathtub but because of what my children might do while I am bathing. I can handle messes. It's blood that really makes me worried. I always leave my door unlocked just so that if somebody were to lose a hand or an eye they would have easy access to me for notification.

Well, the other day, for some reason I chose not to leave my door unlocked and the minute I turned the water off (after a more indulgent shower than usual, I'm ashamed to admit) all I heard was terrified banging on my bedroom door. And screaming. Instantly, my heart started pounding. Thoughts raced through my head of previous incidents of emergency rooms and x-rays and stitches and I braced myself for a grisly situation.

I opened the door to find Roman holding his hand--covered in blood. I raced him to my bathroom and held his hand over the tub to catch the blood dripping from him. At that moment, I knew that I could easily make a frightening situation much worse if I did not get control of my demeanor and tone right away. So, I took a breath and calmly told him that it would be all right and that he just needed a bandaid, praying that I was right.

Luckily, I was. It turned out to only be a superficial cut and he was soon back at play.

I then remembered how at scripture study that morning we had talked about talents. I asked the children what talents they had. Brooklyn knew her talent was dancing and singing, Roman's was flipping over things and Greggory thought he was good at climbing. When asked the question, none of them had hesitated. They all boldly declared what they were good at.

So, I think I will learn from their example. I have a talent of staying calm in a crisis. And that's pretty good, I think.

children of the morn

2010-01-22T17:28:00.000-08:00

I quietly woke up early this morning with the lights off. I quietly got dressed to go to the gym with the lights off. I quietly walked toward the kitchen with the lights off. As I quietly turned the corner, I saw the solemn figure of a two foot personage standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at the floor with the lights off. I half expected to see glowing red eyes slowly look up at me and command levitating knives to suddenly dart into my bowels spilling my innards for the little devil's morning snack. Instead, it was only Greggory. He wanted some toast and milk.

--Weston

pass the toothpaste

2010-01-13T12:10:00.001-08:00

I bought some new toothpaste the other day. (I know, right?!?!) And ever since my new upgraded lifestyle (see two previous posts) I decided on the better, fancier brand. Actually, it was the only kind I could purchase according to my new friend, thekrazycouponlady, to get them for krazy cheap. Yeah, I'm pretty much a couponer now. I'm trying to decide if that warrants a special prefix to my name.

Anyways...

So I come home with my brand new toothpaste excited that not only did I save two bucks per tube, but now I get to look forward to brushing my teeth with a new mint flavor. At this point I have to make a decision. Do I wait to use the new paste until the old paste is gone, or pull a switcheroo? Well, that really wasn't a tough one. The old paste is immediately demoted to the back cupboard and I tear open the sparkly box.

Hang on to my hat! What do we have here! Not only is this toothpaste extra minty but it also comes in a see-through tube!! I've never seen this before! What craftmanship in a plastic container!

Well, after the excitement and hubbub calmed I started thinking, is this what we've finally come to as a society? Do we really need all the extras in order to consider buying a product? Does this see-through tube really make my teeth cleaner? Maybe. I don't know. Probably.

It's just awesome. The pioneers really missed out, you know?

back to bread

2010-01-08T13:13:00.001-08:00

I was reunited the other day with a long lost friend: my Kitchenaid dough hook. I like to make bread and I depend on it to get the texture just right.

Well, to make this post more interesting I'll throw in a twist. My boys also are quite fond of the hook--but not to make yummy butter rolls. It provides the final detail to make a fearsome pirate, arrgh matey. Well, after a few battles between bread and swashbuckler my dough hook vanished. Never to be seen again. I was quite saddened and so were our tummies as they, too, missed cinnamon rolls. This was several months ago.

For Christmas, my sweet husband surprised me with a replacement and then promptly said, "get to kneading!" (I'm just kidding, but I bet he thought it.)

So I made some rolls like I usually do and didn't think anything of it. Well, Roman happened to be playing with playdough that same day and when I came in the kitchen to check on him, much to my amazement were two sheet pans resting on the counter with neat little playdough-rolls placed on top. The rolls were identical to the ones I always make, cut and rolled exactly like mine. I asked Roman about it and he excitedly told me that he made the rolls just like I made them. I remembered how Roman always liked to help me when I was making bread, but I didn't think he was paying that much attention.

I was so flattered with his work that I forgave him for any foul play that he may have been involved with with my old hook. It just goes to show that you never know when the short people in your house are paying attention. So be careful what you say and how you roll your dough because they're always watching.

upgrade, please

2009-12-10T09:38:00.000-08:00

It all started with a dish-towel.

I brought a micro-fiber towel home from the 'mart and fell in love with it instantly as it not only cleaned my counters and glass-top stove but shined them, too. I thought, as I was admiring my handiwork of shininess, why have I not forked over the five bucks to get these towels earlier?

Then, a few days later as I was folding laundry I realized that the smell was not quite all the way out of the boy's clothes--you may know the smell that I am referring to--the smell that accompanies small boys no matter how many times you bathe them? So I remembered my dish-towel experience and knew it was time for an upgrade in laundry detergent.

BOY! If I thought I knew what happiness was before washing clothes in nice laundry soap I was surely mistaken. Every shirt, pant and sock met my nose in wonder before being folded and put away.

You may be asking, what's the big deal? I'm sure many people do not hesitate to fork over the extra dollars to get the premiums but I'm cheap, you see. Get over it.

So then I started thinking. What else can I buy? This is fun. And then I realized my biggest foe staring at me right in the face, er rather, feet. My carpet. It wasn't even two years old and already I had fantasies of replacing it. No matter how many times I vacuumed it never looked clean. Of course, I blamed it on my vacuum for sucking, or not sucking, or whatever, instead of the four children and two adults that inhabit the house. It's not our fault. It had to be the vacuum.

I started investigating. What kind of vacuum to buy? How much did I really want to spend? It turned out that vacuums can cost a lot of money. Gulp. But I'm cheap. Could I do it? I wasn't sure.

Eventually I caved, justifying the purchase to a business expense (hey, I work. . .I just don't get paid any money) and we came home with a pretty nice vacuum. Immediately we set to work vacuuming every nook and cranny we could get our hose on. And when we finished we stood back and gaped at the miracle. Our dingy crusty carpet had vanished! In its place lay a beautiful, fluffy, soft carpet that made you think of little lambs jumping through a meadow....well, you get my point. I couldn't believe it!

So, I guess the moral of this story is that sometimes it's okay to be cheap. But sometimes it's not. And also, vacuuming really makes a difference!

pretty boy

2009-11-17T20:57:00.000-08:00

Just another Tuesday night in the Davis house. . .

smile

2009-11-12T11:24:00.000-08:00

I watch Holland and excitedly anticipate all of the milestones that she will be experiencing in the next coming months: first tooth, first meal, first step, among many others. All of these are important steps that help her blossom into maturity.

Recently, at only three months, she has discovered her gift of laughter. But even before that came the first magical smile. I remember it well. It was news to relate to her dad, grandparents and whomever else would care to listen. Before that smile it was all work and no play--diapers, feedings, and naps over and over again. But when she smiled for the first time, the work mindset diminished and transformed into service unto a fellow being.

Because I smiled back. And then I laughed.

I find it very interesting that the very first skill we all learn as human beings is the simple act of smiling. And yet, it is probably one of the most important skills we will ever have. She can't walk, talk, roll over or even eat on her own and yet she still smiles. She is a happy girl. When I have an especially down day, I count my blessings and am grateful to my little babe to remind me that a
smile can make all the difference.

the perfect day

2009-11-09T12:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was just a wonderful day. I love Sundays, especially if there is a long lazy afternoon attached to it.
Brooklyn and Roman sang in their Primary Program and then we enjoyed a delicious, slowly cooked pot roast after church. Then I made cinnamon rolls and the kids helped deliver some to our neighbors. To top everything off we all played hide and go seek as a family before bedtime. (In which we learned that Roman is a very creative hider.) Even Holland played, pretending at one point to be a doll for camouflage.

hallo-weeee!

2009-11-01T15:23:00.000-08:00

Well, Halloween is over. Costumes have been worn and children worn out. Pumpkin buckets have been filled and (already!) emptied. The children's blood sugar level is to an all-time high with all the candy they've consumed in the last 24 hours.

Let the vegetables and withdrawals begin.

my ghouls

2009-10-26T14:40:00.000-07:00

In honor of All Hallow's Eve, I have bunkered down and written a list of my ghouls for next year. It's a tradition I look forward to doing every year, as I am a ghoulish type of person.

Here is what made the list this year:

1. Climb Mt. Borah. (This one is a repeat, but I had to take a minor detour this year. And she is super cute.)

2. Read more of the classics. (This one makes me cheery.)

3. Get my garden in super-model shape. (I fill you in on the details of this one later.)

4. Run a half-marathon. (Imagine somewhat of a scared but determined look on my face.)

There you go. Bring it on, 2010.

sneaky

2009-10-26T10:27:00.001-07:00

So it turns out that the mouse we saw in the living room isn't the only pest living in our home. Our two boys, you may have heard of them--Roman and Greggs? have been known to have a bit of a scavenger side to them.

To illustrate:

Instead of an alarm clock, I know that every morning I will be woken up to the screeching sound of chairs being moved around in the kitchen. Unfortunately, it's not my dear husband making me breakfast in bed, it's my two little rascals looking for food. Normally, it's not a problem, this exploring and rummaging, I consider it a lesson in not only self-preservation but independence. But since they don't exactly have a craving for frozen broccoli or the spaghetti squash that's been sitting in my "help yourself bowl!" it's always the sweets that invariably get attacked first. And since I consider myself a decent mother that requires a desire to have my children to eat something besides chocolate cake for breakfast, this poses as a bit of a predicament.

And lately they've gotten a bit more aggressive in their hunting and gathering efforts. If there is not food in plain sight on the counters then they will climb on top of the counters to investigate in the cupboard. It's always the fantasy of finding the last chocolate chip in the cupboard that motivates this behavior. Sometimes they'll get lucky and find candy that even I didn't know we had.

This just fuels the fire as you can see.

So what to do in this situation? Well, I've learned to put food that I want them to eat directly on the counter, sometimes making it even easier for them by leaving a trail of crumbs from their bedrooms directly to the "prize". But mostly, I've learned that if I don't want my kids to eat a certain something then I just can't have it in the house. At all.

Oh yes, I've mourned for the lost dreams of having chocolate candy bowls sprinkled throughout my house, but I realize that with kids, you can't have everything.

So after only a few minutes of internal debate, the boys have it. They can stay. I'll just save the chocolate candy bowls for the grandkids.

capture

2009-10-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

Last evening Weston and I spotted a mouse in our living room.

What's more fun than watching Weston bound down the stairs while wacking the broom and dodging flying broom debris?

Hearing Weston scream like a little girl when the mouse suddenly changes direction.

Ah, good times.

cleaning glee

2009-10-15T17:08:00.000-07:00

Confession: Sometimes my children's rooms get so messy that I daren't go inside. I just shut their doors and will the mess to go away. It doesn't always work so then I prepare for a battle that usually ensues about getting it clean. It's a lot of work.

The other day I was sitting in the living room minding my own business when Brooklyn approached me and enthusiastically encouraged me to go into my bedroom. I sensed a scheme into play but I played along anyway. Upon entering my boudoir I found my bed haphazardly all made up (by the way, I 99.9% of the time make my bed, I just happened to be doing something else that day) and a grinning little girl standing right beside it. Also, upon my pillow rested a little hand-drawn red heart.

Brooklyn then told me that in church that day (oh yeah, the thing I was doing that day was getting 5 1/2 people ready for church. Sometimes Weston needs help) she learned about serving and that her assignment was to do an act of service and leave the heart sign behind to let the receiver know that he/she had just been served with love. And the best part was that she actually enjoyed making my bed. She was actually excited about cleaning just to surprise me.

That got me thinking.

Today upon returning home from school I told Brooklyn to go look on her pillow. She appeared slightly confused until she discovered a little crayon heart paper resting there.

Surrounded by a wonderfully clean bedroom.

I think she liked it. I think I like the fact that her room became spotless without
-yelling
-crying
-frustration
-giving up
-etc.

This could be fun.

halloween fun

2009-10-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

A video to make all your dreams come true. Or. . .maybe just for a laugh.

http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/Y6XPVo7X3iTsYTeP

(Thanks Mel for the idea!)

two

2009-10-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

For his second year of life, Greggory received lots of cars, bug cupcakes made by his aunt, some clothes, a ball, and a big attitude!
Since the little tyke turned two, he's already sent me to time-out nine times and his favorite phrase has suddenly become "hate that!"

So, why is it that if he is so ornery do I still find him utterly irresistable?

some thoughts

2009-10-01T12:52:00.000-07:00

It seems like lately all I've been doing is the very same thing every single day. Wake up. Prayers (in which I always pray that I can have enough energy to make it through the day, oh, and that my children will not die) Get kids breakfast. Give Greggory a bath. Clean house. Exercise. Quick shower. Lunch. Possible give Greggory another bath. Storytime. Naptime (for everyone, even me). Playtime. Dinner. Scriptures. Bed. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Sometimes I think I will go crazy.

And yet, it's not all drudgery. I've learned to take as much pleasure as possible in the littlest things. For example:
a working vacuum brings a lot of joy.
Magic Erasers are reason enough to get up in the morning.
A new kind of cheese for my lunch sandwich makes me smile.
I've also learned that there is no substitute for premium laundry detergent.

I've also learned to enjoy my children for their little accomplishments as well.
Brooklyn's anxiety about riding the bus as completely subsided and that is reason enough to celebrate.
Roman's announcement about "hitting the hole" in the toilet always brings a sigh of relief.
and whenever Greggory attaches a "pwetty pwease?" to his requests makes me hug him tight.

So the grand thought here is that life is all about the little moments. The difference in the overall quality of my life is to be grateful for the little things.

And I think I have a pretty good life.

princess play

2009-09-23T17:16:00.000-07:00

So. . . we found Roman dressed like this sleeping in his sister's bed when we went in to tuck him the other night.

OF COURSE we had to take a picture.

our blessing

2009-09-09T17:59:00.001-07:00

Last Sunday Holland was given a name and a blessing. It was a beautiful prayer, offered by her father. There were many in attendance and we were so grateful to have everyone come to support us.

Holland is being held by her great-grandmother. Holland's middle name is after her.

dilemma

2009-09-03T17:27:00.001-07:00

Brooklyn: I have to tell you something, but I don't want you to get mad.

Me: You can tell me. I won't get mad.

Brooklyn: Well, my pretend Prince gave me a pretend phone--see? (she holds up the pretend phone for me to see) and sometimes I call my pretend Prince and Eunice at school. I'm sorry.

Me: Okay, well, I don't care if you call them. Maybe it would be best to just call them at home.

Brooklyn: But what if I'm at school and they try to call me?

Me: Well, you could let it go to voicemail.

Brooklyn: Okay! (Skips off happily.)

I'm so grateful for these kinds of problems.

childproof

2009-09-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago Roman climbed up to the top of the fridge, retrieved the bottle of children's vitamins and then helped himself to the "candy". Oh, he also practiced his manners and shared with Greggory.

I was in the shower. Brooklyn was at school.

After discovering Greggory with vitamin residue all over his face and shirt, I calmly called poison control thinking that I should probably disguise my voice because I've called them so many times. I watched for the appropriate symptoms--diarrhea, vomiting, etc., but thankfully there were none and we live to celebrate another hospital-free day.

However, after discovering that Roman had opened the "childproof" bottle of vitamins with a pair of scissors my joy turned to despair. Is nothing safe in the house? After all, this was his third attempt at ignorant suicide; I thought I had learned my lesson and taken all the necessary precautions to keep danger away from my son. Apparently he takes that as a challenge to find the danger himself.

Am I such a bad mother, or is my son gifted in some sick way?

more pictures everybody!

2009-08-23T20:13:00.001-07:00

Holland's first outing to church. Weston dressed her all by himself. I love that.

Affectionate Roman.

And one of Greggy for kicks and giggles.

and so it begins

2009-08-23T19:54:00.001-07:00

Brooklyn (and I) survived her first day of kindergarten. Weston took her to school because she was worried about finding her classroom. She sits between two little girls but she doesn't know their names because she hasn't talked to them yet. That will come with time, I suppose. She colored a picture, played at recess and read The Kissing Hand. No homework yet. I packed her a lunch and she said that all the other children were staring at her lunch because she had pudding and they didn't. I told her that I would make cookies and she could take an extra one to give to a friend. Overall, a successful day. Oh, but she absolutely hates riding the bus. We'll work on that one.

One day down. 13 years to go.

gulp

2009-08-19T15:24:00.001-07:00

Help! My oldest baby girl is going to her first day of kindergarten tomorrow!

I don't know if I can do this. . .

Any advice?

little girl

2009-08-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

The votes are in. She stays.

yellow-bellied marmots and barack obama

2009-08-17T13:42:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, the fam and I took advantage of Yellowstone National Park's "get in free day" and so Weston and I loaded the kiddies and a picnic basket in the minivan and headed north. On the way there, we told the kids of all of the wonderful animals and mud pits that they could potentially see in the park. Well, right away The List was created of all the creatures that we needed to see in order to have a successful Yellowstone trip. Roman added, but was not limited to, a buffalo, a moose, a chipmunk (just one was fine) and a deer.

Stopping at the visitor's center at the park entrance to pick up some maps we were told that President Obama was also in the park that day and it was possible to catch a glimpse if we played our cards right. I thought, neat, hopefully we'll see some bison and the POTUS. It was like a two-fer-one deal. So President Obama was added to The List.

Soon after entering the park, we located some moose. So that one was crossed off. Chipmunks were pretty plentiful so that one was easy to check, and a little while later the kids were able to see some deer off the highway. We were doing awesome! But still no President sightings. As we were driving along, I perused the Park Journal that was given to us as we entered the park and I learned that buffalo and deer weren't the only animals to behold. I read about a small groundhog-like critter called the yellow-bellied marmot that inhabited the area. Well, of course, I had to observe such a beast with that kind of a name so that, too, was added to The List.

We stopped at the Paint Pots, the Mud Volcano and some other geysers and did our touristy-duty by heading towards Old Faithful. On the way there, we were stopped on the road and suddenly a buffalo the size of our van came sauntering down the road in the other lane. Weston rolled down the window as quick as possible to get a picture and I thought that was a good way for us to get gored but the buffalo ignored us completely and kept on walking.

Bufflalo, check.

After Old Faithful, we learned some more news about the President. We had just missed him. I was a little disappointed but I kept my hopes high for the yellow-bellied marmot. Being an optomistic person I just knew I would see one even though it was getting dark and time to head home.

Driving along, we kept looking for other animals to see. Since the kids were getting a little restless we told them to look for bears. Well, lo and behold Brooklyn suddenly pointed one out right next to the road! Could this trip get any better? Yes! A short while later, I finally spotted my yellow-bellied marmot. It was everything I expected and more. What a satisfying day! We had spotted six out of seven things on The List. Those are good numbers if you ask me. Overall, Yellowstone is definitely a worthwhile trip. . .as long as you have the right expectations.

meet holland

2009-08-08T16:17:00.001-07:00

Born Thursday, August 6 at 4:58 p.m.

7 lbs. 15 oz.

20 1/2 inches long

camp

2009-07-13T11:40:00.001-07:00

Over the weekend, Roman had the opportunity to go to Scout Camp with Weston for two nights. Here's the recap of the whole trip, told to me by Weston: Roman really liked the juice that was served there and consequently had to "water the weeds" a few times, he saw five chipmunks, didn't get to bed until at least ten both nights, and petted two snakes.

It's no wonder where that smile came from in the picture.

independence

2009-07-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

Independence Day this year for me meant:

-hanging out with family from all over and loving every minute of it,

-watching Brooklyn and Roman hesitantly try the water slide for the first time and gaining confidence in their new skill,

-getting Famous Square Ice Cream and laughing hysterically watching Greggory lick the cone all by himself as his feet are getting soaked with icecream rain,

-and then being astonished that he can actually finish a Famous Square Ice Cream cone all by himself.

-hiking in the mountains and finding a lizard for Roman and Greggory to try and catch,

-watching my one year old pitch a baseball to my three year old and thinking, wow, he's actually pretty good,

-watching fireworks with my family and remembering that last year Roman was so scared of the fireworks and this year he can't get enough.

-and finally, realizing how independent my children are getting and thinking that is a little bit sad. In a good way.

husband

2009-06-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

On this Day After Father's Day, I just wanted share my witness to the world of how fortunate I am to be married to such a great father and husband. I have a few reasons; please let me share.

1. Every time I leave the house for a meeting, shopping, etc., I ALWAYS come home to a spotless house. Sorry, ladies, I just can't relate to the "slob husband." (Except, actually, come to think of it, I do have a neater nightstand than him. Sorry, darlin'.)

2. He is the biggest fan of my cooking out of anyone I know. That is saying a lot, considering when we were first married I made a loaf of french bread and then afterwards we used it as a football.

3. He is always telling me that I don't buy enough for myself. Fortunately for us, I am rather conservative in my spending. Except when it comes to cookbooks. And plants. And children's books. But that's all.

4. He is the most obedient person I know. That is one reason why I was so attracted to him in the first place. He takes rules, regulations and commandments very seriously.

5. He lets me do whatever I want with the yard and he is actually taking the time to learn what the plants are in our yard. That is like me trying to learn actual football player's names. Very commendable.

6. When he discovers Roman in the bathroom with pee all over the walls and face, (yes, face) does he freak out? No, well, maybe a little. But he solves the problem, asks Roman how in the heck did this happen? cleans him up, tells him to aim for the toilet next time, son! while at the same time marveling silently at the extraordinary feat of his three year old boy.

7. He encourages me to reach better and higher even when I don't think it's possible.

8. He's the best listener that I've ever talked to. That is probably what makes him so great at his job.

9. He is an english major, but he's not stuffy. He is even often addled with my vocabulary at times--how waggish!

10. And finally, he's just my best friend. What more can I say? Actually, I would go on but he never reads my blog. Too bad for him.

I love you, dear!

breakthrough

2009-06-17T10:08:00.001-07:00

At times in my motherhood career I feel as though I am suspended in limbo as far as any progress in teaching my children certain life skills. For example, Roman still waits until the very last possible second to use the potty even though he has been "trained" for about a year now. He just does not seem to understand that waiting as long as he can really won't make the urge to use the restroom go away. While I try to be patient in this particular issue, I can't help but think, "When will he learn that he doesn't have to suffer like this? By simply making the choice to use the restroom earlier would make all the difference." And yet, there is no persuading this young man.

Another common issue that we've been facing is the never-ending chore of housework. I have racked my brain thinking of creative ways to teach and motivate my children the purpose and usefulness of this skill and still, even though they have to put their clean laundry away every day, there is a battle at times.

Well, today, I had a long list of things to get accomplished and I asked the children to clean the living room. Greggory had just dumped out a bowl of Kix cereal on the floor and so Brooklyn and Roman asked if they could vacuum it up. Sure, I said, why not? They had such a grand time vacuuming up the cereal (and each other's hair and tummies I noticed) and I've never heard so much giggling during vacuuming before. After cleaning the mess up I told them that if they hurried and cleaned their bedrooms, then they could each vacuum their own room as a reward! My goodness, I have never seen their rooms become clean so fast! They were each able to vacuum their bedrooms and that in turn inspired Brooklyn to make her bed and clean under all her bedroom furniture.

Then, as I was mopping, I told Brooklyn that if she sorted her and Roman's clean laundry then I would put them away. Well, not only did she sort their laundry, but she folded all the towels and sorted and folded all of my and Weston's clothes. I was shocked and showered her with praises, but I think she received more satisfaction in watching me put away her clothes as I has promised to do.

Even though I consider today's cleaning frenzy a small breakthrough in their attitudes about housework, I know it won't always be like this and I will get very frustrated at times. And yet, I can't help but wonder if God often shakes his head at me and thinks, "If she would only choose to do this, her life would be so much easier!" So, it's with that perspective in mind that gives me patience as I watch Roman doing the potty dance and Greggory dumping out all his cereal on the floor.

ouch!

2009-06-15T11:51:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn has been officially awarded the "Most Bandaged" in our family as of late. On Saturday our little town held a parade and Brooklyn was able to ride on a float as a member of her dance company. The float was a flat-bed trailer behind a truck and there probably about 35 kids on it.

When Weston went to go pick her up at the destination pick-up spot, he watched in horror as some little kid behind her suddenly shoved her off the trailer. (We found out later that it was a complete accident and the little kid was crying because he felt so bad.) She flew off and landed on her face on the pavement. There were paramedics nearby and they were able check her out briefly before instructing Weston to get her to a hospital--quick. At the QuickCare, she received three stitches on her forehead to close a big gash, but luckily that was the extent of her injuries besides a few scrapes on her nose.

Well, if that wasn't bad enough, today while attending a birthday party for one of her friends, she apparently fell down on the driveway--skinning both of her knees. So we added two more bandaids for her knees to match the one on her forehead.

The only silver lining that she can see in this whole ordeal is the recuperation on the couch watching cartoons and eating her party candy.

cultivating

2009-06-02T07:48:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn is participating in a Junior Master Gardening Program which allows her to grow her own vegetables and flowers in her own plot at the Extension Center grounds. At the end of the season, she can enter her harvest into the local and state fairs for a chance to win a blue ribbon.
Last week, while planting her geraniums, the newspaper came to interview the students and volunteers working there. I volunteer there as a Master Gardener and was excited to see the newspaper photographer take Brooklyn's picture. Brooklyn was so absorbed in her work, though, I don't think she even noticed them.

Most kids who sign up for the program are ages nine and up, so Brooklyn is the youngest by far. But her enthusiasm made up for her lack of experience. While wearing her very own gardening gloves she dug the holes for each of her plants--pumpkin, tomato, and a few flowers--planted them, and then watered them all by herself. After the transplants were in the ground, she moved onto seeds in the carrot, pea, and hollyhock varieties. When she was finished, she helped the other students by watering their plants for them.
I was a little surprised to see her work so hard in her garden, but then, even at five you can have pride in ownership. I have to say that I was very proud to be her mother.

family vacation

2009-05-19T14:11:00.001-07:00

Our little family took a little vacation over the weekend to good ol' Utah! We stayed with Weston's wonderful aunt Melissa and staying at her house was half the fun of the trip. She's always very hospitable even though my children think her toy poodles are actually ferocious monsters in disguise.

On Saturday we spent the day at Thanksgiving Point. We went to the Dinosaur Museum and looked at huge dinosaur bones, watched a 3-D movie with popcorn, and then actually discovered real dinosaur bones in the "Dig For Dinosaur Bones Here" area! The kids were enamored with everything at the Museum, although I think the popcorn part at the movie was their favorite.

Then we hit Farm Country, because being from Idaho we thought our kids could use some farm animal exposure, and they were even able to ride a pony! (Where can you do that in Rigby, I ask you?) I have to say the mini-goats were quite impressive.

After lunch, we strolled through the 60-some acre themed gardens. Actually, the adults strolled, Brooklyn danced, and the boys dozed, which made for a very peaceful walk. Overall, the trip was a huge succcess and well worth the three hours of "are we there yet?" getting there.

dance, baby, dance

2009-05-07T13:42:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn had her very first dance recital on Saturday. She was very nervous (although, if you ask her now she would deny it) and I was a little worried that she wouldn't even make it onto the stage but she did and she came out strong! I was very surprised, emotional, excited, and proud all rolled into one.

Brooklyn and the boys during the rehearsal. They had about reached their dance limit at that point.

Brooklyn, showing us her self-proclaimed "best shot"

Another "best shot"

sand, please

2009-05-05T09:03:00.001-07:00

The kids didn't think they had enough dirt to play in so we built them a sandbox.

We told them to keep the dirt out of the sandbox so it wouldn't get dirty. Ha Ha.

goodbye, rose and goat!

2009-05-04T09:51:00.000-07:00

We have quickly learned that we are not cat people. There are many reasons for this conclusion, including:

-digging in my flower pots to do their "business",
-leaving cat prints all over Weston's freshly washed car,
-the smell of the litter box,
-having to guard the door every time you want to go outside because they run inside and then
you have to chase them because they automatically run to the basement and hide,
-seeing them climb up our new screen doors and windows with their stinkin' claws and then
thinking very bad thoughts,
-changing the litter box,

and finally,
-we just don't like cats.

We found them for free (now I know why) and we got them because I was very naive and because I love my daughter. What did it take to appease her after telling her that we had to get rid of her favorite things in the whole wide world?

A bike for her and Roman. Fifty bucks.

At least bikes don't require a litter box.

a roman prayer

2009-04-27T09:32:00.000-07:00

It was Roman's turn to say the family prayers the other night. This is verbatim:

"Heavenly Father,
Thank you we could get a pet snake, except I think our cats would try to eat it and then I would say, NO CATS!!....."

As soon as he started yelling, Weston cut him off. Of course, the rest of us were giggling--as reverently as possible.

(We're getting a pet snake???)

Rock On

2009-04-23T12:36:00.000-07:00

Let's say your parents call you at 8:00 in the evening telling you that they are on their way up to your house with a big surprise. What's the first thing that comes to mind that you hope they're bringing?

You guessed it!

Special delivery all the way from Boise from my dear Papa (with much encouragement from my Mother I learned).

The coolest part is that the colors of the rock match perfectly with our house (and our dirt); of course, Dad takes all the credit for that.

Thanks, Mom and Dad! What a great surprise!

A Boy's Cure-All

2009-04-15T17:03:00.000-07:00

This morning Roman complained that his throat hurt.

He insisted that I put a band-aid on it.

Afterward he said he felt much better.

Weak

2009-04-02T12:44:00.001-07:00

I am usually a pretty healthy girl, but for some reason I have been very sick this winter. Three times have I been hit with the sore throat-headache-muscle ache combo. Yesterday I was couch-ridden all day. The children, being quite opportunistic, took advantage of this by sneaking cookies, graham crackers and whatever else they wanted from the kitchen all day, knowing I wouldn't do a thing about it. And they were right. I couldn't have cared less. As long as they kept the noise down, they pretty much had free reign of the house.

This reminded me of one particular day when I was so tired and I really just needed a nap. So I lay down on the couch and at that precise moment, Roman yells out, "Mom! I'm going to eat this ice cream for lunch, okay?" I was tired enough that the thought, "Ice cream is made out of milk" was enough justification in my mind to let him finish off the carton.

I guess I should be grateful that my children are old enough to fend for themselves in a pinch. And I guess a cookie (or seven) for lunch every now and then won't kill them--or me. But I just really hope I get better, soon.

Speak For Yourself!

2009-03-19T14:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the children will say some pretty funny things, as all children do, and frequently I will record them down for future remembrance. But they're not the only ones worthy of their words being published as Weston (the adult) can be pretty amusing sometimes.

Yesterday, Weston and I were watching this makeover show and the girl that received the makover was pretty plain and a little overweight. When she was presented after being made over I said, "Wow! She looks so good she makes me want to gain fifteen pounds!"

Weston dryly responded, "But you've already gained fifteen pounds."

(Thanks, Dear, you're the best! He claims it's all due to my pregnancy, but we'll see.)

Then, last night, Roman started crying from his bedroom and woke me up. I had already gotten up with Greggory so I nudged Weston to go help Roman. He mumbled something and lay still. I nudged him again, and again, until finally he burst out,

"Roman's just mad because he found out who the new judge is!" and then promptly rolled over and started snoring away again.

I guess that's a lawyer for you.

Baby...

2009-03-17T12:09:00.000-07:00

Today I had my 20-week ultrasound. Everything checked out perfectly and we also found out that we are having a baby girl! We were excited, but probably not as excited as Brooklyn. After having almost walked out of the hospital with both Roman and Greggory after finding out their genders, she was crazy with joy on finding out about finally getting a little sister. She's been waiting a long time.

Introducing Rose and Goat Davis

2009-03-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

We're so proud!

Twins

2009-03-14T17:59:00.001-07:00

Just wanted to make a public announcement to everyone that we have two new additions to our growing family! We have discovered twins, a girl and a boy, and they are adorable! We allowed Brooklyn and Roman to help name them and so "Rose" and "Goat" they are!

Pictures coming soon...

First Dentist Visit:

2009-03-11T15:40:00.000-07:00

two nervous children,

one mom excited to see this milestone reached in her children's lives,

a LOT of persuasion to said children just to have the dentist look into each of their mouths and count their teeth,

two cavities spotted (uh-oh--too much candy for one little girl),

two earned toothbrushes,

and finally...

homemade chocolate cake at home to congratulate them on their victory.

(So maybe the cavities were a combined effort)

Update

2009-03-06T13:15:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since we have posted so I will update you on our latest and greatest:

Weston has been very enthusiastic in finishing our basement. Which means that every Saturday from now until the 4th of July is now booked.

Brooklyn is nearing the completion of her first year of dance and will mark that triumph with a recital in May. She's excited about being on a stage and I think she's already dreaming of stardom.

Roman is busy being the best boy he can be. (alliteration, anyone?) He's teaching Greggory all kinds of neat boy tricks while still being able to play princess with his sister. He's very well-rounded.

Greggory just learned how to climb down the stairs. So now anything that ends up in his chubby little fist is inevitably tossed down the stairs soley for the purpose of having to fetch it.

I have recently taken a pediatric first aid and cpr class and in the class I learned about all the ways children could get hurt. I think I am now more paranoid after having been cpr certified than before. I also started taken my advanced master gardener classes and I am planning on co-teaching a jr. master gardener class for children this summer. Brooklyn will be able to attend with me and she is very excited to put it mildly.

So, that is about it for now. I do get to take the kids to the dentist for the first time this afternoon so maybe that will make for a more interesting post topic next time.

Cat or Dog?

2009-02-19T20:54:00.000-08:00

Recently we have been trying to teach our children to make decisions by allowing them to choose between two options. For example: "Roman, do you want to go to timeout or do you want go to bed?"

This morning Brooklyn approached me with two options. Of course she caught me at my most vulnerable position--I was flossing, both of my hands were bound. Recognizing that she would have nothing but my full attention, she stated:

"Dad, you can get me either a cat or a dog. Which one do you think would be better? I would be happy with either one. However," she stated as she lifted up her hands to show me her hypothetical scale of logic, "on the one hand you have a dog, who would eat all the vegetables in our garden." Then, raising her other hand much higher than the first and proclaiming with a happier voice while nodding her head in affirmation, "Or we can get a cat, which will eat all of the mice. So Dad, which is it going to be? . . . A cat that will eat mice or a dog that will eat our food?"

I tried to avoid the subject by brushing my teeth and rinsing, but she kept asking with her hypothetical scales: "Cat or Dog? Cat or Dog? CAT OR DOG?" I still haven't answered her question, but between you, me and everyone else except for Brooklyn, I will be getting her a cat. After all, when you only are only given two options to choose from, you must pick one, right?

(Brigette said I had to make full disclosure that Weston wrote this, as she is embarrassed by my lack of blogging abilities)

Bruised, But Not Beaten

2009-02-12T11:58:00.001-08:00

The other day Weston was out tinkering around outside probably trying to decide how many possible ways he could clear the driveway from all of the snow when he suddenly came in with a pained expression on his face. Now, when I say pained, I mean his face was contorted to portray as much agony as humanly possible. Not only that, he was limping to one side and holding his back.

I looked at him, and asked him if something was the matter.

He told me that he had fallen down.

I stared at him trying to muster up as much sympathy as possible and told him I was sorry. Then I went back to reading my book.

I know as I write this that I sound extremely callused, and that may be true. But, that is probably true for two reasons: One, growing up (I know, it's the childhood syndrome) I was taught that if something bad happened, you just tough it up and move on. The second reason is that Weston has been known to milk any injury to the extreme to extract any amount of sympathy for him. So, I try. I really do. But, sometimes, I'm just not in the mood.

Well, anyway, the next day we were in our bedroom and he was changing his shirt. As he lifted his shirt up to remove it, there branding his back very boldly was one of the ugliest bruises I had ever seen. I gasped loudly and cried, "what happened?!"

He looked at me dumbly and then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I stammered, trying desperately to still feel justified.

The dumb stare continued.

Feeling like the worst wife in the world, I stood up and gave him a hug. However, I did note the exaggerated wince that he made even though I only touched his shoulders.

I don't think we'll ever learn.

Teamwork

2009-02-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was busy in the living room when I heard a soft thump coming from the boy's room followed by an enthusiastic, "you're welcome!" A minute later, Greggory came walking out to meet me with a victorious grin on his face. Apparently, Roman had helped the little guy "escape" from naptime by tipping his playpen over--with Greggory still in it, of course.

Here's another example of Team Greggoman at work. Roman is kind enough to share his yogurt with Greggy over my brand new carpet.

I love my boys.

Tag!

2009-01-28T11:22:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged to write seven interesting things about myself. I understand that "interesting" is based completely on one's perspective and so I guarantee nothing.

1) My biggest ambition in life when I was growing up was to be a brain surgeon. I collected everything anatomically correct and for Christmas when I was eight years old I even asked for--and received--a true-to-scale model of the female human body. You couldn't have found a happier girl.

2) I really enjoy brushing my teeth. I brush them about four times a day and when I'm finished I'll run my tongue over my top teeth. I just haven't gotten over the smooth feel of them ever since I had my braces taken off after five years of being a metal mouth.

3) I'm pretty much obsessed with gardening. But, I think everybody knows this, so I will move on.

4) I've also taken quite a fancy to geneology and family history. I have many pictures of Weston and my ancestors on our wall and am in the process of compiling as many stories about our families into a book.

5) I try to eat as healthy as possible, but I do battle a serious sweet tooth at times. Actually, I have a condition that triggers my fat cells to grow whenever I eat sugar in excess. This has caused me to buy several exercise videos.

6) I started writing a novel when I was in middle school. It was a love story set in the civil war era of the 1860's. I would literally write in class and then give manuscripts to my friends between classes to edit. (By the way, thanks for all your help, if any of you are reading this! If I ever publish for real then I'll be sure to dedicate something to you) I wrote about a hundred pages but for some reason I never finished it.

7) And finally, I recently found out that we are expecting our fourth child, which is great news. The bad news is that I don't know if I'll still be able to climb Mt. Borah this summer.

Thanks for reading! I tag:
-everyone who's name begins with a "C"
-all those secret "blogger stalkers"
-and anyone who has a pet.

My Child's Poses

2009-01-21T09:55:00.000-08:00

Today I rediscovered yoga. I used to do yoga a lot when Brooklyn was a baby and I remember it being very stress-relieving as well as great exercise. So I set up my mat and prepared to begin, excited for a quiet and meditative workout. Brooklyn saw what I was doing and was interested in joining me right away. So I placed a little blanket on the floor for her mat and we started our downward facing dogs and sun salutations.

Now, I think yoga was really invented by a little kid to be able to make fun of adults. I say this because each time I was stretched to my capacity in a demanding pose, Brooklyn would do the same pose and with a triumphant look on her face say, "this is so easy!" I'm amazed at her flexibility. She is truly the master in this game and I am the struggling student.

It was when we attempted to stand on our heads that Roman's attention was caught. I think he was a little impressed that his mommy could stand on her head, and actually, I was a little impressed myself. I asked the children if they could do this particular pose--while upside down--and Roman immediately replied, "no, but I can do a donkey kick!" So, while I was supposed to be upside down on my head in a peaceful and serene state of mind the kids were giggling like crazy trying to do donkey kicks within inches of my face.

Next, came the child pose, which is in itself an oxymoron. I mean, have you ever actually seen a little kid resting on his bended legs with a serene look on his face for long moments at a time? As soon as I relaxed into child pose, it was as if I had given the little monkeys an obvious invitation to do a dog pile on their mommy. By this time, I had given up on my idea of a peaceful workout and resolved to try again another day.

So even though I didn't get an exactly quiet workout, it was still stress-relieving with all the laughter and giggles and I think I'll invite the squirts to join me for next week's session.

Oh, Greggy...

2009-01-14T16:37:00.000-08:00

My youngest son has sure been growing up and developing lately. Some of the things that he's learned are pretty cute, such as promptly throwing his dirty diaper away in the garbage and then clapping excitedly for himself.

He's also discovering that his older brother and sister are actually pretty fun to play with and many times I'll hear them all laughing hysterically in the next room. I have even taught him how to dust. He's not really great at it, but at least he's trying.

But there are some bad habits that he's acquired. For instance, for some reason he has taken up the paganistic ritual of idol worshiping and his God of choice is, of course, the toilet. He sacrifices many things to the Toilet God. (How a Toilet God would be beneficial to a one year old is a mystery to me.) I have found many victims in the porcelain bowl, such as, toy mermaids, blocks, cars, even a stuffed teddy bear--this one he decided to rescue at the last minute and was hugging the dripping bear around the house. He has even thrown in our cordless phone, which I might add, is the second phone that we have lost to the toilet, the first being tossed in by Roman when he was about that age. Toilets and phones are enemies I'm learning.

Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like we encourage this kind of behavior. We don't have flashing neons arrows pointing towards the bathroom. I have seen him run to the bathroom with the nearest object in hand as soon as Brooklyn has come out of the bathroom. Nobody told him the door was open, I just think this kind of knowledge is built internally in the little squirt.

But alas, this too shall pass. In the mean time, I guess we'll just stock up on phones, try to keep the toilet as clean as possible, and try to keep him as busy as possible with a duster in hand.

Until, that, too, becomes the next victim.

Is It Almost Spring, Yet?

2008-12-23T10:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, there was a family party scheduled at my Grandparent's house in Blackfoot. The plan was for me to take the kiddies in the early afternoon and then Weston would meet us there after work. Before we headed out, I shoveled off all of our walks and driveway and as soon as I finished it started snowing a bit. I shrugged it off knowing you can't prevent more snowfall and the kids and I trudged down to Blackfoot (white-knuckled all the way, I might add. The roads were difficult at best).

After the party, and after Weston finally made it, I decided that because the roads were so bad, we would leave one car in Blackfoot (along with Brooklyn and Roman with Grandma and Grandpa) and I would drive back with Weston. Well, the driving conditions on the freeway were the worst I've seen in a long time. The wind was blowing which made visibility almost non-existant, not to mention the snow and ice already on the road. We passed 6 or 7 slide-offs along the way so you can imagine how grateful we were to finally make it to Rigby.

As we approached our subdivision we wondered if we would even make it inside with all the snow drifts we were seeing. To our extreme luck we were able to squeeze by the many drifts that were fingering the road and it seemed like we had actually made it home!

Well, we turned into our culdesac and immediately stopped in front of our driveway for the huge snowdrift that spanned our driveway. It was as if a huge tree had fallen directly across the way blocking any access into our driveway, except this was snow. I could not believe it because the driveway had been cleaned only hours earlier. The drift had been created from all the wind from that day. So, Weston and I got out and started shoveling. It took us an hour before we could even pull into the garage. In short, we finally made it home from Blackfoot after 2/12 hours!

One piece of good fortune for Weston: he has been trying to persuade me of the neccessity of us getting a snowblower for quite some time. Well, when I saw that huge snowdrift on our driveway, I gladly conceded.

It 's a little difficult to see, but that huge pile of snow is only a small remainder of the drift that was there last night.

You can kind of see where we shoveled through the drift to pull through.

Beep!

2008-12-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

Today I was sitting on the couch resting for a moment when Brooklyn and Roman approached me with their arms filled with toys. They set them down on the coffee table in front of me and then Brooklyn grabbed a toy, put in my hand and said, "Say beep." I said it, thinking nothing of it, because actually my mind was on other things. She then grabbed the toy out of my hand, set it down, picked up another toy, placed that in my hand and commanded me again to "beep." It was about the eleventh mandatory "beep" that I finally asked her why I had to do this and she said very matter-of-factly, "Because we are buying these things."

I guess when I take time out from being a housekeeper I automatically transistion into becoming a cash register with built-in scanner. The things I learn.

Who needs decorations?

2008-12-04T13:07:00.000-08:00

I think that we have set a new record!

On Sunday, Weston, the children and I set up all the Christmas decorations, put up the tree, and we even put three presents under the tree.

Well...

When I woke up this morning, I discovered half of the tree's decorations missing and all the presents unwrapped with a not-so-innocent-looking little boy sitting in the middle of a pile of torn wrapping paper.

Wow. Three days. Maybe next year we can make it a week, eh?

You Goal-Girl!

2008-11-19T11:58:00.001-08:00

I am a goal-oriented person. I like goals. I like being able to check them off my goal list. I also like making new goals for the new year and because I like this so much that this year I started early and made my New Year's Resolutions in October.

Here's just a few:

1. Hike Mt. Borah (has anyone done this? and would you please share any experiences?)
2.

Okay, that's all I've come up with, but I'm super excited about this one!