Unfinished Business

Tonight in honor of the New Year (and since we're not at Times Square) we are going drop our own ball (basketball) on some gingerbread houses. We've done it before (and yes, it was Adam's idea) and it was fun. Mark is going to wash the ball so it doesn't make his house dirty so he can eat it. What Mark doesn't realize (he's never up on things because he's too young to remember--anything) is that the drop the ball ritual happens in the garage and after the snow and salt and sand that's dripped off our car, I'm not sure a clean ball will make everything sanitized.

Here's the thing though. We started the gingerbread houses yesterday and they had to sit for a few hours before we could decorate them.

We decided to play Settlers of Catan while we waited. It's a fun game until you can't get any bricks to build a road. I would have given my first born for some bricks but Emma had the bricks and she wasn't that interested in Braeden as barter.

We also didn't finish the game.

Part of my vacation without a vacation plan this week is to clean Emma's cataclysmic mess in her room.

It's not done yet.



Speaking of Emma, I told her to get up and get going this morning. This is how far she got:


We didn't even have the follow through to finish our advent calendars this year. Here's proof positive that we've all lost interest in candy canes.


The weather isn't even very tenacious. The rain is supposed to be getting rid of the snow.


In (all of our) defense though...we are on vacation.

First Born Children

My (non first born) dad used to tease my (first born) mom that first-born children are like pancakes…you throw out the first ones because they aren’t as good.

First-borns can be a little annoying sometimes. They can be bossy or uber-responsible and parent pleasing. My (first born) sister Marianne used to rally us in a cheerful and conspiratory way to surprise my mom by doing all the dishes. Go away Marianne.

Marianne was always my advocate though. And she probably always will be. When I got in trouble as a child she’d argue with my parents. When I had friend trouble in 6th grade (I’m eternally grateful 6th grade will never happen again), she was on my side. When my insurance wouldn’t pay for the epidural when Braeden was born she wrote a scathing letter and it was covered.

First-born children are not all bad.

Tonight Adam and I went with his siblings and parents to celebrate his mom’s birthday. We were meeting at Olive Garden. Brian, Adam’s brother called to get a reservation but was told they only took reservations for the hours between 11:00-4:00, the hours when no one really needs a reservation.

Scott and his girlfriend, Stacy, got there at 6:00 and were put on the waiting list. We arrived (unfortunately, predictably) late. We all sat together and visited amiably in the lobby but the wait got long. Stacy kept going to check on our wait time. Adam (the first born) started going to check on the wait time too. I asked Scott if Stacy is a first born.

She is.

Brian left and came back a few minutes later and said that Azteca—which is nearby—could seat us immediately. Our hour and 15 minute wait was over! We all gathered ourselves and walked around the corner to Azteca. Except Adam. He was talking to the manager at Olive Garden.

Adam’s brothers can be an intimidating and none too nice duo when provoked. They snarled a bit then left and Adam played the good cop.

Adam, the first born, joined us a few minutes later at Azteca and handed his mom a $25 gift card the manager at Olive Garden had given him for our trouble.

When we left the restaurant, we called our own first born and told him to turn off the DVD and have everyone in pajamas with their teeth brushed by the time we got home.

They were.

First born children. You’ve got to love them.

Public Service Announcement

I want to tell you about three things that are making me happy. If I were rich and famous, perhaps people would pay me to endorse things but here's a shot of pure altruism from me:

1. The movie Bolt. We saw it last night. It kept us all entertained.

2. My new planner. I am in planner bliss. I'm such a planner nerd, I know. But if you too are a planner nerd you will thank me. Someone climbed in my head, decided what would make a good planner and here's the result...which surprised me too because I don't remember anyone climbing in my head.

3. Simplify Supper. This is a great website. It gives you dinner ideas and recipes (and every one I've tried has been good) and even a shopping list. I know...a shopping list. My sister-in-law wondered if the website would do the actual shopping, cooking and dishes. Not yet...they still have a few bugs to work out.

There you go. Three things to make your life better.

You're welcome.

A Merry Christmas (Very)

Mark, taking his turn at the pinata on Christmas Eve. Who goes to a motorcycle club on Christmas Eve and has a pinata? We do, that's who.

Nothing quite says bedhead like my kids on Christmas morning. I love the rapt admiration of the Lego set.

My pretty girl

We've had a nice holiday and (for me) an emotional one. I cried several times...like when Adam surprised me with with his Christmas present of season tickets to the Village Theater in Everett (happy tears) and when we decided not to go to Nevada as planned because of the weather (not such happy tears).

My goal for today is not to cry.

We are also making lemonade out of the lemons of having our trip canceled. Adam's still taking time off from work (if I have to hide his cell phone and hit his laptop with a hammer and lay down in front of his car so he can't drive). We're going to the movie today and who knows what kind of shenanigans we'll be up to in the coming week.

We're going to have fun. If it kills us. We. Are. Going. To. Have. Fun.

And not cry.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Happy Christmas to all...


And to all a good night.

Ten Cups of Good Cheer

Here are ten things filling me with happiness today:

1-No church today. Not that I’m opposed to going to church but every once in a while church being canceled feels like playing hooky when I get to trade high heels for fuzzy socks (and hear Adam ask how many Muppets had to die so I could have my socks…don’t tell PETA).

2-Joyous Adam in the snow. He complains about always missing out on the big storms. Not this time.

I can't explain the shoveling snow in a t-shirt.

3-A bird found shelter on our front porch last night.



4-Lumi joined the family. The kids found him last night next to one of Adam’s snowball luminaries. Emma promptly named him Luminary. Braeden protested. Adam intervened with Lumi—which is one of the many words for snow in Finland.



5- Christmas music and hot chocolate with candy canes.

6- Janet and I bought each other the exact same Christmas present…The Mother in Me. We even bought the books for each other on the exact same day from the exact same place…Deseret Book on the day the proceeds went to benefit Stephanie Nielson’s family.

7- Scented candles

8- New friends like Suzanne who asked for a “group picture” of our bears. For you Suzanne…anything.

We keep them under the tree in our living room. They rarely stay there. Mark plays with Conner or his “Buddy” (he’s trying to stage a coup and rename him Buddy…it’s not working) and Braeden and Emma makes up complicated scenarios with King Stewart and his subjects.

9- The excitement in the air surrounding Christmas. It really is fabulous to be woken up by a 6 year old pouncing you like a puppy and announcing how many more days until Christmas. At least he didn’t lick my face.

10- The sweet peaceful glimpses when Christmas hits me all at once (and spills out of my eyes) and I remember the miracle of our Savior’s birth, His life and His Atonement and all that means in my life.

My Attention Span...not so good

How many more Christmas bears are there anyway??? (If I'm losing interest, I'm sure you are too.)

I'm going to finish up today...with three and then of course there will be the grand finale when we get this year's installment. There's already a bit of buzz about that arrival. I'll keep you posted.

In 2005, my main memory of Christmas is being grateful Adam was still alive. After Thanksgiving he had a terrible bout of cellulitis caused by a strep infection. As my brother Tabor would say, it's a long story and not a very good one. It happened when we were in Nevada celebrating Thanksgiving with my family. Adam ended up with two emergency room visits then a 5 day stay in the hospital. Marianne who watched our kids while I sat in Adam's hospital room and watched him suffer, ended up with a broken window when Mark flung a toy at it. My long-suffering brother-in-law Robert ended up changing my flat tire I got one night on the way home from the hospital.

Good times.

Our Christmas bear was Stewart:



So named because Adam put him in a pot with a lid and set him on the table and told the kids to come and eat, we were having stew. When they opened the lid for the big reveal, there sat the cuddly little guy.

Adam...even returning from the jaws of death he's a clever bear.

Thanksgiving 2006 was more fun. We went to Disneyland. Our Thanksgiving dinner was eaten at Jack in the Box. Selected for the pumpkin pie shakes. Our bear was Shasta:

He was named for Mt. Shasta which we passed and admired on the the trip to California. He has got to be the best bear to hug in the world. Seriously, come over...I'll let you hug him.

Last year we had no big trip or illness. We did however have one of those dramatic December rain and wind storms that happen around here. During such a storm there was an umbrella set up in the middle of the room...my big yellow and blue IKEA umbrella I adore so (they're big enough to cover me and a kid or two and cheap enough to easily replace when a kid or two mistreat them).

Under the umbrella sat flood ready Noah, sans ark but dressed for Northwest winter weather:

Everyone Needs a (Strong) Friend

Emma pulling Kira and Freja up the hill

When we are grown, we'll smile and say we had no cares in childhood's day, but we'll be wrong. 'Twill not be true, I've this much care... I care for you.

I wouldn't sell my front row seats to the hillside sledding escapades. The problem is, I have more to do than watch gleeful children. My more to do will have to wait...

A Room With A View

I thought I'd share my view with you...in case you don't live across from the neighborhood slopes.

Gallup-ing Towards Gratitude

The summer I was pregnant with Braeden, I was between years of teaching school and had a summer job working for Wirthlin Worldwide which was a company that did surveys over the phone...one tiny step up the food chain from telemarketers. I hated my job (morning sickness didn't help), but it changed me.

For one thing, I came to the conclusion that I don't trust surveys. The only people that would talk to us were crazy/lonely/sad/drunk/with no lives. I'm not going to let their opinions color my perceptions.

Another thing that happened is that I'm always really nice to survey takers that call me (not telemarketers, I hang up on them). I feel compassion for them and if I have time, I take their survey.

Last night Adam and Braeden were at scouts, Emma was painting pictures of flowers and Mark and I were working on the gift he was making Braeden for Christmas.

Charlie from the Gallup poll called me. He wondered if I'd take a survey. I said sure. I indicated with the rudimentary sign language I employ when I'm on the phone that I wanted Mark to stop painting. As is always the case (yet I persevere) Mark didn't get the sign language and blue paint was being slopped around. I took the brushes out of his startled hands and pointed to the phone. He shrugged and went to play with his cars.

You have my attention, Charlie.

He asked me about politics and the economy. I felt like I should give him Adam's cell phone number because he knows more but I don't think Charlie was asking out of a personal thirst for knowledge so I decided it was OK if I didn't have the "right" answers.

Next he wondered if I worked. I told him I'm a stay at home mom. He said, "So would you consider that working or not?" Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie...I said I'd consider that working.

Then he had questions about health and wellness.

He read a list of diseases/conditions and wondered if I had any of them.

I said no and felt grateful.

He asked me if I had health insurance.

I said yes and felt grateful.

Then he wanted me to consider just the previous day.

He asked if I'd felt mostly happy.

I had and I felt grateful.

He asked if I'd felt mostly angry.

I hadn't and I felt grateful.

He asked if I'd felt mostly stressed.

I hadn't and I felt grateful.

He asked me how much time I'd spent in social interactions with friends including phone calls, email and personal interactions. I remembered delicious phone conversations with both sisters and one with Janet. I remembered chatting around a table with my friends at our Relief Society Christmas party at church. I remembered reading witty emails.

I said, "About 5 hours" and I felt grateful.

He asked me if I'd been unable to afford health care in the last 12 months.

I said no and felt grateful.

He asked if I had a safe place to exercise.

I said yes and I felt grateful.

He asked if there was access to affordable fruits and vegetables where I live.

I said yes and I felt grateful.

He asked me how many bedrooms I have in my house.

I said three and felt grateful.

He asked about my religion and wondered if I was "very religious" and attended church at least once a week.

I said yes and felt grateful.

Finally he said that his computer indicated that they needed people from my demographic to join the Gallup poll group and he wondered if I was up for it. (Do I fill the need for left handed un-athletic brown-eyed women? Maybe but since he didn't ask me any of those types of questions I don't know what kind of profile I fit.)

I said I'd be in the Gallup poll. He's going to send me a "welcome packet" and I can tell them if I'd rather have phone, email or mailed surveys and I can always opt out if I want. Well, yeah, I guess so since it's unpaid labor.

If all the surveys make me feel as happy about my life as last night's survey with Charlie did, I think I'll be compensated though.

Christmas Bears part 9

First some period shots from 2004.

Don't you just love pictures of shorty toddlers putting ornaments on a tree?


Especially when they have red curly hair and saggy diapers?


Apparently I do. I still wish I had shorty toddlers running around...but only when it's time to be cute...not at the other times.

Alderwood is (sadly) the disfavored of the Christmas bears. Her arrival was tainted. I (foolishly—but I learned my lesson) inserted myself into the bear acquisition business. I thought it would be fun to go to Build-A-Bear and well, build a bear for Christmas. All the kids could be involved. It would be a favorite memory, “Remember when we made that bear?”

It was not to be. Back then, Adam had a habit of cleaning the van every Saturday. In this maddening weekly cleaning spree he’d take Mark’s umbrella stroller out of the back of the van and set it in the garage. I would invariably be somewhere and need the stroller and it would not be there. Grrrrrr. I complained loudly and often to Adam (if you can imagine because I’m usually never one to let him know my feelings on subjects…)

When we got to the mall, we climbed out to venture to Build-A-Bear and MARK’S STROLLER WAS GONE. Since Adam was there, he agreed to full care of Mark who was a whirling dervish of two-year-old mobility.

Adam took one look at the crowded Build-A-Bear store and opted to stay out with Mark. (I later learned that Adam loathes Build-A-Bear…the whole Build-A-Bear scene.) The family building the bear fantasy was fading fast. We made a bear and it ended up being a she and ended up being ugly and unwanted. We named her Alderwood after the Alderwood Mall (there’s a theme here…naming unloved white bears after the store where they were purchased) and I vowed to STAY OUT OF IT from then on.


And here's Alderwood. Untrusting...unknowing...unlove-ed...



P.S. If you know what movie I'm quoting you are my forever friend.

For My Book Club Friends

I didn't see the Twilight movie (lack of interest) but I did read the first book (in my book club). When I saw this I knew that some of my Twilight aficionada friends would enjoy.

Out of Whack

Things are crazy around here. Nothing is as it should be. It is cold--really cold. Not like normal. And dry. My lips are chapped, my hands are dry. My hair is less curly and more straight.

And then there are the sweaters...I laid some sweaters out to dry yesterday and they were dry today! Are you kidding me?

Then there's the sunshine. Winters are supposed to be dark and depressing aren't they? I've been loving the sunshine and walking around humming with a spring in my step.

The universe decided to right itself though.

And I got sufficiently depressed again.

In an effort to stave off the cold air pouring in through our gas fireplace, I rolled up a blanket and nestled it up against the bottom. Then I just can't leave well enough alone.

I draped a blanket from the mantel, held up by the stocking holders.

Before:

After:

Adam heard my shrieks and the clatter of heavy stocking holders hitting tile. He came and lent his comfort and support and took the gas fireplace apart and made it less drafty.

It made me think too things:

1. I should have asked Adam in the first place.

2. I need to write my brother Ammon a letter.


Here I go:

Dear Ammon,

Remember how I want you to come and tile my bathroom? How do you feel about re-tiling a fireplace?




Just wondering.

Christmas Bears part 8

In 2003, Mark was growing up.



And lived in danger of getting whiplash.


Also that year we moved to Granite Falls. We lived there briefly (6 months) and it was sort of a stopping off spot while Adam got his current job and we were able to buy our current house. We also moved there while Adam was (again) unemployed, we rented the house we lived in from dishonest red-necks (bad combination) and I was kind of grumpy the whole time we lived there. That's for you Adam...I don't want to be perceived as creating too rosy of a picture.


The nearby (within walking distance) Stillaguamish River was a compensation. We love the Stilly...and we love our bear with the same name.

Meet Stilly:

The Velveteen Saturn

There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.

I think I owe our Saturn an apology.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

I wrote about our Saturn here. But in case you need a recap, we got our Saturn plenty of years ago when we got married. It needs replacing and Adam won’t.

And so time went on, and the little Rabbit was very happy–so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier, and his tail becoming unsewn, and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the Boy had kissed him.

It’s less sentimental and more fiscal. It’s long since paid for and still gets great gas mileage. Every time I tell Adam to get a new car he tells me his recent gas mileage (he may or may not be making it up).

"Give me my Bunny!" he said. "You mustn't say that. He isn't a toy. He's REAL!"

It’s been a good little car. But I am done with the Saturn. Done.

At least I was Saturday. I had to drive Emma to a party and Braeden and Adam were delivering phone books with the scouts and using our van. That Saturn rattles and shakes and I think at any minute it’s going to fall to pieces. I called Adam to complain and request the van back, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Adam still needed the van.

I (sighing deeply and trying to be the martyr but I can never quite pull it off) said OK, I’d drive to the play with Mark…in the Saturn.

Adam finished earlier than he thought and met me at the am/pm for a switch.

I got to take the van and dusted the Saturn dust off my hands. Happily.

Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.

Then there was last night. We were going to the church for a Christmas fireside. It was going to be lovely and I look forward to it every year. And the roads were icy. We didn’t think our van—which does lousy in the snow and ice—would make it.

But the Saturn would.

And it did! That’s one good little car.

Dear Saturn,

I’m sorry for the ill will I harbored against you and your stubborn owner. You are loved.

You ARE real.

"Run and play, little Rabbit!" she said.

But the little Rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved. For when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs, and he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the Fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, too shy to move, if just then something hadn't tickled his nose, and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it.

And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.

He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.

By the way: The play I took Mark to was The Velveteen Rabbit. I know, you never would have guessed.

All is Calm; All is Bright

It snowed here last night. My kids were thrilled...who am I kidding, we all were. Nothing goes with Christmas lights and hot chocolate like snow (and Adam made me a gorgeous little cup of hot chocolate last night complete with candy cane...and Mark and I went to Starbucks yesterday to get some Peppermint Hot Chocolate so I think we about had that angle covered).

My kids were hoping we would stay home from church and let them sled (like the rest of the neighborhood kids were doing...right across the street from us). No such luck for the little Davis children.

Usually the snowflakes here are fat and sloppy and melt on impact but baby it's cold outside and the snow will still be here tomorrow (and Braeden already asked if they could have a snow day...how could a home schooled kid possibly need a snow day? We couldn't make it through the drifts to the school room?)

When Adam was in Finland--a climate perfect for his big bear personality, he learned to make snowball luminaries. They are beautiful and rarely work here. Adam gave it a try tonight.

Braeden helped him and it's a good thing my mom doesn't read this blog because I would quickly fall from being her favorite child (Sorry Enoch, you thought it was you all these years. You thought wrong.) when she saw my firstborn in sandals and shorts in the snow.

Here's the end result. What can I say? The man has talent.

Christmas Bears part 7

Looking at Macintosh who joined us in 2002 and was named for his apple green bow, reminds me of the Christmas my present came on December 10.






It was a Christmas of precious little sleep and precious time gazing into my newborn Mark’s eyes by the light of the Christmas tree. Don’t believe the hype, December is a charmed time to have a baby.

Lucy, You Got Some Splainin to Do

I don't mind talking about myself...I really don't (hence the blog). I just wish that I didn't have to explain so much.

I find myself in social settings (which I've never been all that good at). Some kind person is trying to make conversation and they ask me questions. Questions for which there are no succinct answers. I need better answers; I need to invent a life that can be easily summed up.

Because here's the thing, I don't think kind people in social settings really care that much. They're just asking to fill some void.

(What I really should do is stay home and mind my own business.)

So, did you grow up around here?

No, I grew up in Nevada.

Nevada? Where in Nevada?

Have you heard of Elko?

(If they're from Utah or California) I think so...

I grew up between Elko and another small town, Wells.

On a farm?

No (I don't know, in their minds does the middle of the sagebrush qualify as a "farm"? When I think of a farm, I think of Charlotte's Web and Mr. Zuckerman...in that case it wasn't so much of a farm.)...my dad had cattle but sold them when I was young. He makes bits and spurs now.

(Having a look on their face like they have NO idea what I'm talking about.)

(Waggling my fingers) He made my rings.

Oh. (Still not seeming sure what to make of it all.)

So how did you meet Adam?

(Yes! A simple answer!) At BYU.

What did you study?

Elementary Education (phew, another quick one)

Oh, that's right...I heard you...homeschool.

(Here we go.) Yes.

Why did you start that?/How do you do that?/What's wrong with you anyway?

(I explain...I try to be brief.)

So where does Adam work?

Amazon.com (dreading the follow up question)

What does he do?

Uh....



Really, I am capable of short communication.

Why don't they ask me how many children I have?



How many children do you have?

Three.

Three?

Three.

Oh.

Girl Boots

Today when Adam and I were going to lunch at Lanna Thai (not a bad day altogether), I noticed the lovely BOGO sign at Payless Shoes. That meant one thing and one thing only...time to get the boots for the kids (and there BETTER be snow in Nevada when we're there, big drifts of it...just not on the road, OK?).

Tonight after dinner I took Emma and Mark and we went on a shopping trip.

First we went to Payless and got the boots. Emma and I both fell in Shoe Love with these boots and the cunning little bow on the side. Emma said, "I've never had girl boots." (the plight of the solitary girl in the brother sandwich) I told her I remembered a bright pink pair when she was very little. She said she didn't remember ever having girl boots.

I said it was high time she had some.

We went to Fred Meyer next because the $10 my grandma had sent Mark for his birthday was absolutely wanting to be spent. Mark was dissatisfied with the Lego choices. Emma sniffed imperiously and said she never had liked the toys at Fred Meyer.

I told Mark we'd try Toys R Us next. Emma thought that was a brilliant idea because "all they have is kids' stuff." Granted I do get lost regularly but Mark really didn't have much confidence in me finding my way to Toys R Us. He kept saying, "I'll keep a lookout for it Mom." When we pulled into the parking lot he was thrilled, "I found it! I found it!" Climbing out of the van he said, "It is a good thing I have such good eyesight." As we walked across the parking lot he called toward the direction of the store, "Never fear Legos, we are ON OUR WAY!"

A few people stopped to look.

We found the Legos and while (alas) they did not have the exact set he was looking for, he made do with a helicopter he's itching to build. I said, "So is that the one you want? Are you ready to go."

Mark said, "Let's do this thing!"

So we did.

I usually do my errands (gratefully, happily, alone) when my kids are swimming on Thursdays. It was kind of fun though. I guess when conditions are right even taking two kids to three stores is not half bad.

Christmas Bears part 6

After my hiatus of celebrating, I'm back to the business of memory lane. More Christmas bears.

2001

2001 was very eventful for our family. Adam lost his job in San Francisco (darn internet bust) and we moved to Washington and stayed with his parents while he looked for another job. While it was a stressful time for me (hUge understatement) it was full of blessings too. Adam's parents were wonderful to us, our kids got to know their family in Washington and eventually Adam found another job.

We rented a small house near the Snohomish River. I loved it. It was almost 100 years old and full of all kinds of charm and beadboard.



Darling 100 year old house + husband with a job = IKEA. We had forays to IKEA for everything from candlesticks to pukkis (which are goats--in Finnish--and integral to our Christmas).




Adam bought Cardamom at IKEA.


He's kind of an ugly misshaped little guy but adorable in an I-love-the-sweater-vest sort of way.

That year we spent Christmas in Nevada with my family. While looking through pictures I found this picture of Braeden with my brother Ammon and the snow fort they built. When Ammon was a little boy he built bridges out of popsicle sticks. When he was a teenager he built forts out of snow and now he builds parking structures out of concrete.

I like to think him working with Braeden helped him along his career path.