Self Addressed

My children have always had a propensity to draw on everything but paper.  Their canvas has usually been their own body. 

Sometimes when there has been no more free space on their bodies, the dog or the house has had to do.

 

Now that they are slightly older, I expected that they would grown out of this phase, but alas, I guess they have not.  They located a address stamper and proceeded to self address their bodies. It's like drawing, but only using a stamp and some blue permanent ink.

Now if only the postal service would only be willing to ship them somewhere...

YouTube & the Scissors

The rule in our house is that the tablet and the phones are plugged into the charger in the kitchen at night.  Under no circumstances are there to be electronics in your room overnight.  The routine is after showers and pajamas, they bring their electronics to the kitchen.   This morning, child 4 came downstairs and told me that child 3 was watching YouTube on his iPad in his room.  His room was still dark by the way.  As far as I knew he was still asleep.  I told child 4 that there is no way he can be watching YouTube because his tablet was sitting on the counter plugged in.  I turn and point to the counter where his tablet was plugged in. 

Exhibt A - Tablet Plugged Into The Charger

Walking over to double check, I opened the case and lo and behold it was not the iPad that was plugged in, it was something completely different.  I give him props for attempting to make it look like the tablet was plugged into the charger. 

Exhibit B - Scissors Plugged Into the Charger

I walked upstairs to his room to indeed find him watching YouTube.  Needless to say, he had the tablet in his room all night after telling me it was plugged into the charger in the kitchen.  I feel dumb for falling for his scissors hoax.  My bad that I did not double check that it was actually plugged in last night.   I am sharing this as a public service announcement so that if your kid has a tablet in a case, double check to make sure the tablet is actually in the case and secured at night. 

Unfortunately for child 3, all he will be doing to entertain himself in the coming days is attempting to watch YouTube on a pair of scissors.  That will be a rough, I mean sharp, go for him. 

Pooooooop

Daily I go room to room picking up random piles of stuff that my offspring, husband, and dogs leave scattered around the house.  For the most part it is a lot of dirty laundry, dishes, empty chip bags, candy wrappers, blankets, etc.  Sometimes I get lucky and find loose change to which I add to my change jar that will someday pay for a cruise (if only for me).  Today I found something that I have never found before, something slightly concerning.  I found our label maker, which honestly I had forgotten we even had, along with miles of label tape strewn around it.  I have no idea where the label maker was found.  I personally haven't seen it in years.  Someone went looking for it, found it, pulled it out, spent some unknown amount of time thinking of what to type on it, and then executed on their decision. 

As I picked up the label tape I noticed that the word "Poop" was printed on it every 2 inches at least 100 times.   Obviously I am concerned that someone chose the word poop to print out, but more concerning is that this same person spelled the word poop incorrectly.  It's not that hard of a word to spell. Am I right?  Poop was spelled POOOOOOOP. 

Now I am worried about what exactly they were putting the label "POOOOOOOP" on.  Is it actual poop?  Is is certain surfaces that were wiped with poop and unknown to anyone else but the poop spreading perpetrator?  Is is for labeling things someone intended to smear with poop?  Is it to label the dog poop in the yard? Any of the above is enough to give me nightmares. 

No one will claim responsibility.  Everyone promises that it wasn't them.  I guess I will never know what these were intended to actually label.  The unknown poop labeling perpetrator will live another day to label some other kind of human bodily function. I only hope that whomever is responsible will learn to be a better speller of said function. 

Like Buttha

Drew:  Child, you've already eaten dinner and had dessert.  Now it's time to go to bed.  There should be no reason what so ever that you are in the kitchen.

Child:  (Noise of coffee pot turning on and whip cream being extracted from whip cream container) Ok.  I'm just making hot chocolate.  Hold on.

Drew:  No hot chocolate!  Get out of the kitchen.

Child:  (Noise of rustling around in the refrigerator)  Ok, gimme a second.  I have to get something.

Drew:  GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!

Child:  (Noise of silverware drawer opening) Ok!  I am coming, geez! (Still more noise coming from other appliances elsewhere in the kitchen)

Drew:  NOW!!!

Child:  Fine!  (walking out of kitchen, nervously holding something in the pocket of his hoodie)

Drew:  What is in your pocket?

Child:  Nothing

Drew: I'm running out of patience.  What is in your pocket?

Child: Nothing

Drew:  Hand it to me now.  (Holds hand out for receiving of said item in child's pocket)

Child:  Fine.  Here.   (Proceeds to hand over a stick of butter...bite marks and all)

 

Kinda brings a whole new meaning to, "It's like buttha."

memecrunch.com

It Smells Amazing, Like Armpits!

Last night I instructed the boys to pick up their rooms and bathroom before their showers.  As I am standing outside their rooms picking up toys and clothes strewn about the hall, I over hear the tail end of an interesting conversation between Nick and Harry.  Nick was in the bathroom and he yelled to Harry who was in his bedroom, "Oh my God, Harry!  You gotta come smell this!  It smells amazing, like armpits! I love it"

I hear some shuffling, which I assume is Harry making his way to the bathroom.  A few moments later I hear Harry affirming Nick's statement.  "It does smell like armpits! That smells awesome!"  I stand outside their rooms, shaking my head, contemplating if it is necessary for me to identify what they are talking about.  Is it food or something rotten and growing bacteria that needs to be thrown away?  Is it dirty clothes, and if it is why are they sniffing them?  Is it a clogged toilet or a clogged bath tub drain, and again if it is why do they feel the need to describe the smell? (If it is a clogged bathtub drain, I defer to this prior post: https://dailydoseofthedavis6.blogspot.com/2016/05/mom-theres-small-problem-in-your.html) I don't wanna check, but I should probably check.  No, I should definitely check.

Upon entering the bathroom, prepared for the very worst, I was pleasantly surprised to find out the armpit smell they thought was amazing was not actually a body odor smell, but instead a container of soap.  I guess they thought that the soap inside the bottle smelled like a stick of deodorant.  The armpit smell is not the bad kind of armpit smell, but an armpit slathered in deodorant.  PHEW!!!!!  I was REALLY worried for a minute that they liked body odor!  Lord knows that I do not need any more stink in this house. 

oldspice.com

Noah's Ark

I visited my psychiatrist yesterday. I was telling her that I was feeling very anxious after a long summer at home with the kids. I found it hard to get to yoga classes or to get a workout in, which is usually my release. I seemed to be going in 4 different directions all summer, but none of those directions were my own.  I tried my best to be calm, walk away, ignore, and redirect during trying times, but three months together all day is a lot.  As most of you know, my children are a bit more than most. I love my kids, but by August we all need summer to be over.  I told her I found myself having a glass of wine almost every night to help take the edge off.  Although the wine does help with that, it does not solve the underlying cause of the anxiety thus being the reason for my visit. 

She gave me a warm smile and an understanding nod.  She’s a woman of great faith and has an abundance of biblical knowledge.  She asked if I remembered the story of Noah to which I replied that I did (although some of the details are fuzzy).  She said that God gave Noah the command to build the ark which seemed to be an impossible feat.  Imagine the time, the energy, and the tireless work that he put into building an ark not knowing the outcome but just trusting God. 

My son's Noah's Ark piggy bank

She said, “Now, I’m not calling you Noah nor am I calling your kids the ark, but idea is the same. You put endless hours in building your children from the ground up not knowing the outcome but trusting God that he has a plan for them. It’s hard work.  It’s stressful.  It’s exhausting.  Do you know what Noah did after the flood?  He drank wine, and I bet that was not the only time he drank wine.  What about when he was in the building process and things weren’t going as planned?  What about when he dropped a hammer on his foot and broke a toe?  What about when his family was continuously fighting and he wasn't sure he could take another minute of it?  My guess is he drank wine then too.” 

See Genesis 9:20ish.  Basically, it says that some point after the flood, Noah planted a vineyard, produced wine, and drank the heck out of it.  I guess me and Noah have a couple things in common.  He has an ark.  I have a SUV.  He has a vineyard.  I belong to a wine club.  He was charged with the insurmountable task of building an ark in which to ensure the future of all animal kind on the face of the earth.  I have the insurmountable task of raising my kids, who act mostly like animals.  He probably had wine when he dropped a hammer on his toe, and I definitely had wine when I dropped an actual squash on my toe and broke it.  It’s the same…but different.

In addition to other measures to manage anxiety, maybe having a glass of wine now and again isn’t so bad.  I will just need to avoid the second part of Noah’s adventure with wine in which he drank so much he ended up passing out naked in a tent where his kids found him and they were super embarrassed.  Somehow, even without wine, I still seem to make my children super embarrassed.  I guess the good thing is that I prefer to be fully clothed, I am not an avid camper, and my tent is packed somewhere deep away in the basement.

Prayers from Target

Yesterday I took several of my children to Target to shop for school supplies.  I'm not sure what went wrong.  Maybe I said no when my child asked me to buy him a toy or a pack of gum.  Maybe the air conditioner in the store blew the air the wrong way.  Maybe I raised my voice to my children when they were whacking one another with slap bracelet rulers while walking through the school supply section. Whatever the actual trigger was I will never know, but I ended up in the checkout line with a seven-year-old in full on meltdown mode.  Good times. 

I am reminded of a Target trip several years back...

Nick was maybe 3 which puts Harry at 6.  I have no idea what would possess me to have Harry push a second cart behind me as we were shopping.  Include the kids in the shopping experience, they say. Have them help.  It'll keep them from misbehaving.  Umm, yeah, not so much.  I remember walking down the aisle in the grocery section of Target while Nick was strapped into the cart and Harry was pushing a 2nd cart behind me.  He wasn't so much pushing the cart but more like playing a game of how many things can you knock off the shelves by crashing into them.  It must have been nap time for Nick because he had lost his mind and was screaming and crying in the cart I was steering.  I was most likely overstimulated, overtired, and apparently, I looked as if I were falling apart.  

Several aisles later, a woman whom I did not know approached me in the heat of this total mental breakdown that my children and I were having.  She took my hands and asked if she could hug me. She said I looked like I needed it.  Then she asked if she could pray for me. You know you've made quite a scene already if a total stranger stops you in Target and asks to pray for you.  I can't remember if I even answered her.  With my kids screaming and subsequently knocking massive quantities of things off the shelves behind me, she put her hand on my shoulder and prayed aloud over me right there in the middle of Target.  I have no recollection of the actual words that came out of her mouth during that prayer.   I can't remember if I even said anything in response. Since I was crying before she asked me if she could pray for me, I imagine that I continued to stand there in tears.  She smiled, and squeezed my hand.  

I don't know who this woman was.  I had never met her before nor have I seen her since, but what I can tell you is that I will remember that experience forever. We all walk around blind to the people around us who are calling out for help without actually speaking.  We are annoyed by other people's loud, cranky children.  We are judgmental about how other people are parenting in public when they are yelling at their children in frustration.  We are so busy being busy that we fail to have any compassion for other people's immediate struggles whether they are parenting struggles or struggles of any other kind.  I don't know if I would be gutsy enough to ever stop and pray over someone I don't know in public, but I certainly offer looks of understanding and simple words of human connection.  "I have been there too.  Girl, I understand.  Believe me.  This too shall pass."  Maybe they are not the right words to say, but sometimes people just need to feel that they aren't alone. Feeling alone and judged are 2 of the worst feelings you can have especially when you are in the trenches.  

That's a little bit about why I write about my parenting experiences.  Maybe it gives voice to a few people who have no idea how to voice how hard and overwhelming being a parent is.  Making it funny helps defuse the anxiety and help people to see they aren't alone.  Other people have kids who misbehave and who really suck at being a parent most of the time.  It's normal to suck.  Trust me. This small piece of advice is coming straight from the mouth of someone who sucks so bad at parenting that I was stopped at Target by a stranger to be prayed over.   Consider this me stopping you all in the aisles of Target to pray over you.  It gets hard, then some days easier, then hard again, and just when you feel like you have it under control someone goes and has a full-on meltdown for you in the checkout lane of Target yet again.  

*Side note - Who in their right mind would make a slap bracelet ruler for children when they are fully aware that said bracelet will be used as a weapon every time?  Dumbest invention ever.