Momma's Leavin' the House!

Okay, it's official. I'm going to BLISSDOM '09!!! My hubby agreed on the money and my dad is buying my room at the fancy-pants hotel in Nashvegas!

Oh yeah.

In honor of the occasion, I went and got six inches cut off my hair AND got high and low lights (what ever the hell those are)...

Now, if I can just apply lipstick correctly, I might be somebody!!!

(They won't be able to miss me. I'll be the one wearing the "I LoveMrsFussyPants" shirt and clomping in heels like I'm walking through a plowed field..cause that's how moms who are WAY out of practice act in public.)

Fingers crossed!

Seriously?!

It is finally sunny here and the 4-day fog has lifted! The possibility of getting the two two-leggers and one four-legger out of this house for some outside fun was almost too much to bear.

Out my bedroom window I could see the cute little girls playing at the park and the friendly mommies sitting and talking. Dying to be over there, I contemplated waking the littliest one just to get outside. But I held back, knowing his devil-like attitude when his nap gets cut short. (Oddly enough, I think he might get it from me...)

He finally wakes, we throw on shoes, leash the dog and head to the park! I've got on my adorable "Knoxville Girl" shirt, a gift I cherish, and my funky cowboy boots to complete the ensemble. Seriously, who wouldn't want to talk to me?!

Apparently the moms at the park. That's who.

Like a high school girl trying to make a good impression, I pushed the boys on the swings, chased them around the playground, loved on the dog, EVERYTHING! But got nothin'. Not even an acknowledgment. Nothing. I have been searching for these illusive SAHM's (suffer-at-home-moms) for a week now and just when I think I have them...my pit bulls attack.

They terrorize these little girls with their cops and robbers game until they run, screaming to their mommies complaining of the 'mean little boys' that keep trying to put them in jail. (They'd be lucky to be handcuffed by handsome boys, but whatever. They aren't good enough anyway.)

So I quickly make my leave with a, "Hey, boys! We haven't checked out the lake over there yet!" The cops and I make our getaway.

Determined to not let this day, or my cute outfit, go to waste, I decide a walk around the neighborhood would be a great idea!

Strike Two.

We grab their bikes (or police cars as they prefer) and hit the streets. They are doing their best siren impression and the dog is peeing on every. single. lawn. Yeah, welcome to the neighborhood Davis Family!

We make it one block. Exactly One Block before the eldest, whom I will refer to as "Beaunita" decides we are all going too fast. Right. I'm the one in cowboy boots here, give me a damn break. So we slow down. Two houses later, he decides it's too windy for him. He's not just fussing about the wind, oh no, he's outright screaming and crying about it.

Fine. I'm done.

Kids crying, dog howling, wind-blown hair covering my scowl, I stomp (in my not-so-cute-now) shoes back to the house.

And all I can think is...Where. Are. Their. Parents?!

Fat and Sassy in the New Pad

I had been working so hard to get back to my fighting weight. I was hitting the gym on a semi-regular basis (just being honest here) and eating better than before. I couldn't see any drastic improvement yet, but it does take time.

Then we moved.

Okay, even without the gym we all know exercises that we can do in our living room floors, if we are so inclined (which I haven't been yet). Certainly the 'eating healthy' bit shouldn't be affected by a move either, (but yet it is). But the proverbial 'straw that broke the camel's back' so to speak was the neighborhood. No, the proximity to Applebee's and Chick-Fil-A were not the burden, it's the neighbors.

One thing we failed to notice when scoping out the joint was that the home we purchased (okay, leased until the damn TN house sells) is on the road where all the retirees and dual-incomers live. I'm not sure exactly where they hide the SAHM's (Suffer-At-Home-Moms...or was it "Stay" at home mom...) Anyway, it's pretty quiet to say the least.

I had fully expected a not-so-warm welcome when I realized this geographic flaw in the move, but have been pleasantly surprised by the warm welcome we have received! Our first week in the house we have already received a home-cooked real Italian baked ziti complete with garlic bread (that didn't come out of the freezer), salad (that was chopped by hand) and homemade German chocolate cake. The next day we received a bag of Christmas cookies and a poinsettia. Today's pleasant surprise was a huge tin of cookies, candies, cakes and toffee! (The best part was that they remembered all our names - even the dog - and put it on the little card.)

However, in typical Davis Family Fashion, Beaux came out to thank the sweet, aging couple wearing only his spongebob underwear. They, more appropriately, were dressed in layers with fur-lined hoods. I'm sure you can see the scene unfolding...

The kid will probably have a hand-knit sweater next week.

Someone's Gotta Learn

Beaux has somehow decided that I am going to work when he starts kindergarten. I'm not sure how this idea started, but I'm assuming it has something to do with his response every time someone asks what his mommy does, "She takes care of me." That's it. That's my primary focus in life. Honestly it makes me feel pretty good considering I don't spend as much time focusing on him as I should.

I digress...

Today we are in the car and he says, "Momma, why can't you teach me stuff so I don't have to go to school?"

Holy crap. Soooo not my game.

Me: "Well, honey. Um...mainly because I don't know what to teach you."

Beaux: "Well, I need to know my wetters, numbwers, and...hmmmm. OH, I need help painting cause I'm still getting it all over my fingwers."

Me: (giggling) "So, you can't paint too good huh?"

Beaux: Well, it isn't dat I can't paint good. I'm a good painter. I just get it everywhere. OH, and I need to wearn to cook too."

Me: (tears streaming down my face now and doing my best to hold back a gut-laugh) "Why do you think you need to learn how to cook?"

Beaux: "It would just be nice to know. Dats all."



Yeah, now I KNOW I can't teach him anything.

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle til the Sled!

Out of guilt for not having the energy to take the boys to the ice skating rink downtown, I took them to the Christmas parade. I conned my dad into joining since Steve wasn't back in town. It wasn't my best idea, but it was at least funny.

We were our usual lateness. Arriving downtown with 20 minutes to spare and then having to park 18 minutes away. The boys were all bundled up with the exception of Deuce's hands. The mittens I tried to cram on them just simply wouldn't fit. Sure, they were infant size and he's 2, but still. I probably should have noticed that they didn't even have a spot for the thumb, but whatever.

We made it to the parade and had to put the boys on our shoulders so they could see. Considering we were in the 'most popular section' where the TV crew was, I was shocked that there were only 4 rows of people in front of us! It was so crowded that dad and I couldn't turn to talk to each other. We had to just yell at the back of the heads of the people standing in front of us. (Who kept turning around assuming we had to be asking them "When the hell is Santa going to get here?! My shoulders can't take much more of this!".)

In typical downtown-fashion, there were a pan handler standing directly behind me, smoking, and telling anyone who made eye contact with him about his arthritis. Well, first it was arthritis, then it was an work accident, then a dog bite...you get the picture. I'm still not sure how these people always find me to stand behind, but I spent the entire parade worrying that his unattended cigarette that he was waving around like a flag twirler was going to either set my hair on fire or melt the Deuce's jacket. Either way, I was devising my plan of attack should this happen for the rest of the parade.

But then the gospel float came by and the entire crowd was mesmerized by their rendition of White Christmas. Everyone except the Eldest one. Perched atop granddaddy's shoulders he belts out the most off-key version of Rudolph I've ever heard, bobbing back and forth as he sang. If you couldn't hear the snickers from the crowd, you could easily see their shoulders bouncing from giggling. Proud of remembering all the words, he sang even louder until the float was out of site. The old couple next to us was not impressed, but that's okay, because when the firetrucks came by he was so excited his candy cane fell out of his mouth, bounced off my head and landed on her freshly-starched scarf. (Which is how I know God has a sense of humor.)

Finally, Santa came. I don't think I've ever been so thankful to see that sled. Before the float had even passed, dad and I both turned on our heels and headed through the park. Which turned out to be a poor decision on our parts as he stepped in a fresh pile. Still not certain it was dog poo, dad tries to convince the Eldest One to 'give it a sniff'. Not falling for this or many of granddaddy's other tricks, he says, "Gangaddy, my nose is topped up." (Smart Kid.)

Merry Christmas Already...

Every single year I decide it will be FUN to make Christmas cookies! And I regret it every. single. year. This year, however, was going to be much different! I was going to do it WITH the boys! Picture it, them mixing the dough, cutting out the shapes, decorating them...doesn't it sound adorable?!

Yeah, I probably should have consulted the neurologist first. I'm pretty sure I bumped my head at some point.


On the list: Noel Nut Balls (only because I giggle every time I say that), Chocolate Chip Cookies (cause who can mess those up, right?!), Rice Krispie Treats (come on, how hard can it get), and finally Gingerbread Men, Stars, Blobs, Whatevers (yes, I cheated on those when I found a roll of dough, shhhh). The games started on Wednesday. By Friday, I have so many chocolate chip cookies I have no room anywhere in my kitchen for anything else (and they are so flat you can read through them). I did succeed in making the Nut Ball (hee hee) dough. That was to be refrigerated 3 hours (which had I known that, I probably would have never made it since I have an 'immediate gratification issue'.) Never the less, they were made, and refrigerated.

Until Today. (Cause I suck.)

During nap time, I decided to just finish them all up and let the boys decorate the bags. I am now surrounded by cookies and nut balls (hee)-less funny when they're EVERYWHERE. I still have to make the Rice Krispies and the Gingerbread crap. I'm getting a little less fond of the cookie-making idea. In fact, I've decided that the second ball of Nut Ball dough is going to be given as a 'some assembly required' gift to a neighbor. (Sorry Tanya.) :)

Who?! Meeeee????

We've been laying the bar stools at the bottom of the stairs to keep a certain 4-legged family member from relieving herself on the carpet upstairs. So far, it has been successful; which is funny knowing Molly. Generally she will do her best to bust down any sort of barricade. Not because she wants past it so badly, but mostly because you had the audacity to put it up in the first place.

Yesterday I noticed that one of the boys had decided to drag the chair off the stairs and half-way across the curly maple hardwood flooring. (Which, by the way, is the poorest decision of flooring for a house with young children and dogs. Or anyone with feet for that matter. It's like walking on China. You know that any move you make will ultimately cause a scratch on the beautiful finish. It will certainly be my demise if we don't get out of this house soon.) But, I digress...

The chair-dragging had put a deep, white scratch across the floor for about 10 feet. I'm not exaggerating when I say you could see this damn thing from the space station. (Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration...) I confronted the Eldest when he came down stairs in search of another brownie:

Me: "Did you see the big scratch across the floor from you dragging the chair across it?!"

Him: "Yeah. It's pwetty bad, huh?"

Me: "DUDE! If you knew it was scratching the floor, why did you do it?!"

Him: "Oh...No, no, no. I meant to say, 'What chair?!'"



(Pray for that child.)

Breakfast at Davis's

Scene One: The Big One and the Littliest One sitting at the table eating breakfast. (Breakfast consists of two frozen waffles and some syrup with milk to drink.) -yeah, I know, Super Mom. Just hush.

Momma: "Boys, eat your breakfast now!"

Big One: "Momma, I ate all mine! It's poosy that won't eat."

Momma: "Hey, little buddy. You have to eat your breakfast. Do you want to grow up big and strong like your daddy and brother?!"

Littliest One: "Um, no."

Momma: "Come on, sweetie. Momma just wants you to eat."

Littliest One: "No, momma."

Big One: (whispering) "Listen, I'll eat your waffles for you and she'll leave you alone."

Littliest One: "O Tay!"

....

Big One: "Momma! Poose is finished! We're going to pway now!"