Never

I NEVER run errands in the afternoon. Never. Never. Never.

It’s too difficult to feed the baby, pick up my 4-year old from preschool and squeeze in an errand before my 1st grader gets off the bus.

Okay, well 364 days out of the year I never run errands in the afternoon. I don’t know if the blue skies and singing birds went to my head today but I felt ambitious. I decided to run a quick errand before heading home. Being extra cautious, I even set the alarm on my phone so I would have plenty of time to get back before the bus arrived.

I’ve NEVER had my iphone fail me. Never never never. Well, 364 days out of the year it hasn’t failed me.

Today these two NEVER’s collided. Usually they just randomly float around in space, two atoms in an innocent orbit. But somehow today they had a head-on collision, like football players crashing into each other at full force. The result was my head exploded when I looked at the clock and realized my son was on the bus headed for an empty home and I was 20 minutes away.

As I raced along Highway 73 in utter panic, reciting what I would tell the officer who dared to pull me over, I prayed that today would be the day the bus broke down. Of course the bus NEVER breaks down, but seeing how Never’s reputation was on the line, maybe I had a shot.

Skidding into the driveway, I jumped out of the car and ran inside calling for N but found nothing but a quiet house. This is ironic because our house is NEVER quiet. Never, never, never. There are many times that I wish my house was quiet, but definitely not today.

I raced to the farm to see if maybe N was looking for us there, but found no signs of him. Just a bunch of bored chickens staring at me. Probably wondering what was up with the Farmer’s crazy wife standing on the hilltop and hollering the same thing over and over.

And then I remembered something.

Months ago, before this awful incident was a reality, I’d made a plan.

An Emergency Plan for such a moment as this.

I don’t even know what prompted me to make the Emergency Plan, but today I was singing my own praises for being such a good Mom for doing so. I didn’t dwell on the fact that the reason we were in Emergency Plan Mode was due to a slight Mommy-fail. That’s beside the point.

Months ago I told the kids that if something ever happened they were to go to our neighbor’s house, call me or Nate, and wait. I felt safe knowing we had a plan in place, but NEVER thought we’d need it.

There’s that word again.

Since I couldn’t find N on the home front, I jumped back in the running car and headed over to our neighbor’s house, which is two streets over. Just as I was knocking on their door my phone rang. It was my husband. Uh-oh. Either he sensed there was something amiss in the Davis Universe OR my Emergency Plan from months ago had worked.

The neighbor opened the door and said, “I just called your husband.” I looked up and saw my son standing at the top of the stairs, grinning his toothless grin at me like a Cheshire cat.

And I finally exhaled for the first time in about 30 minutes.

The moral of the story is always have an Emergency Plan, don’t rely on technology, and NEVER EVER SAY NEVER!!!

ILY

Today is Valentine’s Day.

I’m not going to lie. It’s been sweet day.

I’ve been planning today for several weeks–the menu, the Valentine’s, the gifts. I wanted the day to be a true celebration of Love.

As I was sitting at the table helping Ella make her valentines, she asked me to spell family.

F-a-m-i-l-y.

That’s my word for 2011.

As I spelled it out loud, I realized the last three letters are “i-l-y”.

ILY. As in the abbreviation for “i love you”.

I smiled like I’d just discovered a hidden treasure tucked inside a common, everyday household item. Or like I’d decoded an encrypted message. Something so special within something so normal, just waiting to be noticed. Appreciated. Celebrated.

Tonight I cherish that precious secret from yesterday. Because when it’s all said and done, I have my family and I have love, and the two are beautifully and rhythmically intertwined. Like chocolate is to Valentine’s Day and peanut butter is to jelly, my family is to Love. F-a-m-I-L-Y.

And so I go to bed with the fullness of the realization that everyday is Valentine’s Day because I’m surrounded by my family.

I’m surrounded by LOVE.

Hope you enjoyed celebrating Love with your F-A-M-I-L-Y today.

—Carrie

Girls in the ‘Hood

To all the girls in the ‘Hood out there (MOMMY-hood that is…) this one’s for you!

Top Ten Clues YOU Are “THAT” Mom:

10. The words “clean house”, “peace and quiet”, and “folded laundry” are synonymous with “unicorn”, “Bigfoot”, and “Santa Claus”.

9. You suddenly realize your toddler doesn’t have pants on, but you could’ve sworn she did when you left the house…

8. The reason the cashier’s looking at you funny is because you’re still talking baby talk.

7. That thing stuck to the bottom of your shoe is your 2-yr. old’s toothbrush. Awesome.

6. You find that you’re the only one left in the room still watching Sesame Street.

5. You find yourself swaying back and forth in the grocery store line like you’re rocking a baby, but you’re only holding a gallon of milk.

4. Common staples in your diet are mac ‘n cheese, Dora yogurt, and hotdogs…things you used to think were totally gross.

3. You have more pairs of toddler underwear in the wash than sexy lingerie.

2. You find poop on your pillow….and then in the closet. (True Story)

1. You think that all you want is peace and quiet, but once you have it you realize how much you miss the chatter of little voices.

These are just a few from my own life. Feel free to add some of your own!

*Note: Love and hugs to all the Mommy’s out there…keep pressing on! These are the days you’ll laugh about when you’re old and boring.

Confession

I have a confession to make: (Ahem)

When Nathaniel (my 4 year old) gets up in the morning, I turn the TV on and go back to bed for an hour.

I feel like I just confessed embezzlement or something. I can hear the silent gasps everywhere.

In all seriousness, I am ashamed of the fact that I am a lousy morning person. My Mom was always up first, had her QT before anyone was awake, and greeted each of us with breakfast and a smile. It totally annoyed me, but it set the standard.

I hate mornings lately. I don’t want to get up because I HAVE to…I want to get up when I WANT to. Once I’m up, I don’t want to be needed. I don’t want to fix breakfast for everyone. I don’t like noise or rowdiness that comes with two small kids. And I don’t like Dora the Explorer at 8:00 AM. (She talks sooo loud)

I want my coffee, quietly brewed, and then I want to quietly sit on my balcony doing my Quiet Time, peacefully contemplating the richness of God’s goodness. I do not want anyone to speak to me until this has happened. Doesn’t that sound nice?

So, recently I was convicted about our family’s morning routine. Several Mom-friends shared with me about their morning routines, and how they get up around 4:30 AM (GASP!) so they can have time to themselves before their family gets up. That way they have time to drink their coffee in peace, have a QT without shouting at the kids to stop body slamming each other, watch a little TV that doesn’t include learning how to count to ten, workout, and then shower without being interrupted.

My friends have enlightened me and I realize that the morning experience I want to have is totally possible…just at a few hours earlier.

So now that I know this, the battle is doing it. Every morning this past week I have felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to get up before the kids. And every morning I roll over and push the snooze button on Him. Obediance is HARD. It may be THE hardest part of being a Christian, in my book.

So pray for me. I know I can do it. I just have to want it bad enough.

Anyone have any tips on how to force yourself out of bed early in the AM?

I Have a Dream

I’m sitting at home alone stalking people on Facebook while my hubby is out of town changing the world. Don’t feel sorry for me. I have a bag of Starburst jellybeans, a tall cold Coke (at 12:32 a.m.), and plenty of mental energy that I’ll be longing for in about seven hours when the kids wake up. So, while I should be in bed dreaming right now, I’m sitting on the floor of my empty apartment with a blank screen in front of me…dreaming.

I’ve blogged before that I battle claustrophobia—except my phobia is more of being confined to a small life, rather than small spaces. When I was in high school and college I had big dreams of impacting, influencing, and inspiring people. When Nate and I were dating we had big dreams of traveling and building the Kingdom together. I remember flying to California together for a wedding and using the time on the plane to dream about our first year of marriage. We talked of selling everything we owned (which was a coffee table, a guitar, and alot of clothes from Express, Gap, and Banana Republic) to go backpacking for a year. But then we got married and had kids and traded in our dreams for hard decisions, like becoming a one-income family, becoming a one-car family, living with family members, etc.

Every once and a while something happens to make me realize that I spend way too much time in the real world and not enough time in La-La Land. My family has spent it’s early years of development in survival mode, but I believe we are emerging from that time as stronger, wiser, and more faithful people. A new season is upon us! So I’m taking some time to dream tonight. And I want you to do the same.

My Dreams:

-I have a dream of celebrating my 75th wedding anniversary with Nate. I dream of dancing to our song “Come Away With Me” by Norah Jones, cutting the cake and feeding it to each other through our dentures, while celebrating each other wholeheartedly and unreservedly. I dream of upholding and preserving my marriage, fighting for my husband’s integrity, and teaching women how they can do the same. And I dream of sharing a million kisses from now until that day in 2078.

-I have a dream of planting my family on Troubadour Lane in Charlotte for the next 20 years. I dream of giving my children the same gift of growing up in one home that my parents gave to me. I dream of them bringing their children to their childhood home to visit Mimi and Pop. I want them to remember when they were three and got stung by a bee on the front porch, or when the Tooth Fairy came to visit for the first time. I dream of hearing them tell their spouse about how they did their homework at the kitchen table while Mom made homemade chocolate chip cookies or how Dad grilled out on the back deck in the summertime. I dream of watching my family grow “in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man” while living together at 15632 Troubadour Lane. (1 Samuel 2:26)

-I dream of being a better Mom tomorrow than I was today…and to continue that for the rest of my life.

-I dream of supernaturally mastering the Ezzo’s Biblical guide to parenting and then sharing this beacon of hope with every parent I encounter! (www.growingkids.org and www.gfi.org)

-I dream of leaving my thumb print on the world somehow, someway, someday. I think that will be done by allowing myself to be used as a communicator of Truth. I dream of God giving me words to write and speak that will cause chains to be broken, lives to be healed, and eyes to be opened so that Jesus Christ is revealed.

-I dream of dying with no regrets. I dream of living a life to the fullest. I want to squeeze out every drop of life while I’m here. And then I want to walk into eternity and live in glory with the person who is Life Himself.

What are some of your dreams?

Hmm.

Yes, his head is stuck. And I mean REALLY STUCK.

Yes, I had to pull the posts apart while pushing his head at the same time. Definitely could have used two more hands.

Yes, I had a brief moment of panic when I pictured my child surrounded by firemen, sawing the posts to free his head.

Yes, I imagined what my Mom would say when she came home to find her beautiful staircase completely hacked apart.

And yes, I vowed to be sure the staircase in the new house we are building is at least one toddler-head-length apart.

Claustrophobia

I have these moments of claustrophobia. Surprisingly, it’s not because we live in a small unfurnished apartment. It actually has nothing to do with the size of the space I’m in or how many people are around me. My claustrophobia comes when the size of my life gets too small.

In high school I was President of my Junior class, Vice President of my Senior class, Vice President of the Student Council, and captain of the cheerleading team for both my high school and my college teams. At the crux of all those accomplishments existed a burning desire to impact, influence, and inspire the people around me. I didn’t know what job title that qualified me for. All I knew was at the core of my being there was a drive to make a difference.

When I was growing up, I honestly thought I could do anything. As a second grader I declared to my family that I wanted to be President. Someone quipped, “You mean the President’s wife.” No, I meant President. And why not? I relished the idea of being in charge and making important decisions everyday. (And living in a beautiful home like the White House didn’t sound bad either…)

When I was in the fourth grade, I changed my mind and decided to be an astronaut. Not just any astronaut! I wanted to be the first woman in space. My parents even sent me to Space Camp. It was there that I learned another woman beat me to outer space. Crushed, I decided to hang up my space suit and move on to something else.

After I became a Christian in college, I decided to become a missionary. I remember when John Piper asked people to stand at the One Day Conference as a public commitment to pursue missions. My passion for missions practically propelled me out of my seat. With every fiber in my body, I wanted to change the spiritual temperature of the nation of China.

But then my parents went through a nasty separation, and I had an instinctive need to stay close-by while my family crumbled. During that time I met a man who had an obvious and overwhelming call on his life to impact, influence, and inspire people. Meeting him was a breath of fresh air to my bleeding heart, and in the midst of all the pain of my breaking family, he reminded me of my own forgotten desire to make a change in the world. We recognized this shared passion in each other and knew that we were soul mates. We were married 11 months later.

It’s been five years since then. Somehow I’ve morphed from “Amateur World Changer” to “Claustrophobic”. My world feels very small and my accomplishments seem even smaller. My vision for life reaches as far as the end of the day.

Being a stay-at-home Mom is something I do strictly out of obedience to the Lord. I do it because my husband wants me to and because I truly believe in my heart it’s what is best for our family right now. But in all honesty, I would much rather be living my husband’s life than my own. I long to work for an organization that’s making a major impact in the lives of people. I want to go to work every day with a burning passion to make a difference. I want to be surrounded with intelligent people and discuss tactics and theories on implementing cultural change. I want to use my talents and gifts for something greater than myself.

And then I realize, somewhat guiltily, that I should be doing all those things in my daily life right now. In fact, didn’t I just write the job description for the ideal stay-at-home Mom? Shouldn’t every day of my life be spent impacting, influencing, and inspiring my children? Do I not have one of THE most important jobs in the entire world? If so, then why, WHY, WHY am I not satisfied? Why does fulfillment elude me? Why doesn’t this longing to be out in the world doing something BIG go away?

I may not know the answer to those questions, but I do know this:

“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15)

God has called me to be a stay-at-home Mom for a season. And even though doing so sometimes goes against every natural inclination I have, I choose to obey. Following God’s calling is not an impulse or an accident. It is a deliberate, daily, conscientious choice. The Bible tells us to “choose this day whom you will serve.” (Joshua 24:15) On the days when the walls seem to be closing in on me, usually it’s because my heart has not made the choice to serve the Lord that day.

So, today I choose Him. I choose His way because He is THE Way. At least, that’s the decision I’ve made for now. Tomorrow is another day!

Poop Chronicles, Part 2

2007 marked the arrival of two major milestones in the Davis household: potty training Nathaniel and shopping for brand new (not hand-me-down) furniture for our den. For the typical family, the two milestones would not be in anyway related. For the Davis family, however, they somehow managed to intersect.

For those of you who have not had the joy of potty training and/or do not remember your own potty training experience, here’s a known fact: children reach an age when they become embarrassed about pooping, so they hide to poop. When we were potty training Nathaniel, he would mysteriously disappear, only to suddenly reappear with a sheepish grin and a lumpy pair of underwear. We started to pick up on this, and following him one day I realized that he was consistently hiding behind our coffee table to go potty.

One Saturday we decided to go shopping for furniture. This was a major milestone for us, since we would be purchasing our first pieces of brand new furniture and passing on our hand-me-down furniture to someone else. It was an exciting time, but made a little complicated by the fact that Nathaniel was potty training–which meant we were on a short time leash. When Nathaniel said he had to “go”, that meant we had about 10 seconds to find some hole, bush, cup, or toilet for him to christen.

At the furniture store, Nate and I stopped to admire a couch. Nathaniel said he had to go potty, so Nate whisked him away to the nearest bathroom in Superman fashion. Sadly he was too late, so Nathaniel came out of the potty wearing one less pair of underpants. That’s right. Commando. So as Nate and I were reviewing our options (1. Call it a day and head home, 2. Make a run to Target, 3. Risk it and stay a while longer), we noticed Nathaniel was missing from our side. Looking around, I suddenly viewed our surroundings through the eyes of my 2 year old—-COFFEE TABLES GALORE. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

The frantic search began for my son…and sure enough, we found him squatting behind a local coffee table, red faced and sheepish. Nate whisked him away to the bathroom, but yet again our efforts were too late. Nathaniel insisted that he had already pottied. So Nate and I abandoned all Southern manners and gentile upbringing and hit the ground on all fours, searching for the missing poop. After searching under every conceivable coffee table, we came to the conclusion that the PMIA (Poop Missing In Action) had gone AWOL and must have gone underneath a couch.

At a loss as to what would be the good and moral thing to do, we dusted ourselves off, packed up our things and the guilty party, and called it a day.

The moral of the story is: if your child has a weakness for coffee tables DON’T take him furniture shopping!

Poop Chronicles

Poop. It happens.

With two toddlers, it happens ALOT. I don’t mind it so much anymore. In fact, I think once you’re anointed “Mom” you acquire some secret super-natural ability to stomach the mess. Boogers, though. Ugh. I gag just typing the word.

Since today was relatively calm, I thought I’d share one of my favorite Poop stories.

When we were potty training Nathaniel, it was quite a challenge to get him to poop in the potty. We had more accidents than successes in the beginning, which is typical. At the time, I was working full-time at Water Missions International, so Nathaniel was attending a Montessori school. Everyday I’d send about 8-10 pairs of underwear with him to school, and everyday I’d get about 8-10 dirty pairs back. Sometimes my son would even come home commando!

One day I dumped the entire grocery bag full of dirty underwear into the washer without sorting it first. I washed the load and then transferred it to the dryer. About fifteen minutes later I started to notice that my house smelled odd, which was funny since I was cleaning my kitchen at the moment. But rather than the smell of Comet wafting through my home, there was another “odor” that I couldn’t put my finger on. Thirty minutes later the dryer buzzed that my laundry was done. At this point the house smelled FUNKY. I was completely baffled. As I pulled clothes out of the dryer, I saw the strangest brown markings all over the inside of my dryer…and then I found it. A lump of brown spongey mass tucked inside some clothes. I realized at that moment that I may be the first person in the world to wash AND dry human poop! Thus the funkified smell permeating my home!!! If I could have lifted that washer and dryer, they would have been sitting on the curb waiting on the trashman that day. Instead, I sucked it up, donned a pair of yellow rubber gloves and started to scrub. And scrub. And scrub. What can I say? Poop happens. Sometimes it even happens to make it into the dryer.

Laws of Physics

Tonight I inadvertently proved two of the most common Laws of Physics in less than an hour: the Law of Gravity and the Second Law of Thermodynamics.

The Law of Gravity is one of the most fundamental forces of physics. It states that all objects with mass attract each other, and is responsible for keeping the Earth and the other planets in their orbits around the Sun. Keeping that in mind, this law was proven tonight by my 2-year old daughter.

Ella is in a perpetual state of Mess. In fact, Mess orbits Ella like the Earth orbits the Sun. Kind of like the Peanuts cartoon character Pig Pen. That’s my sweet Princess. Mess gravitates toward Ella. It is a force of nature. As an example, I’ll use tonight’s incidence. We went outside to play. She was running down a hill that I had already checked for ants, sticks, and holes. Somehow, or rather, by the force of Gravity, Ella took a tumble down this steep hill and landed hands first into a warm gooey pile of dog poop. In the words of the great theologian John Mayer,

“Gravity is working against me
And gravity
Wants to bring me down”

The second Law of Physics proven tonight by the Davis household is the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which states (in the most basic terminology) that all matter left unattended will always move from a state of order to a state of chaos. As an example, we will refer to tonight’s bathtime. After Ella’s gravitational pull took her spiraling down the hill into dog poop, we headed home for a bath. With both kids in the tub to soak, I figured it’d be okay to answer my ringing phone. I enjoyed talking to my sister-in-law Abbi for a few minutes while the kids played. I stepped into the bedroom so I could escape the echoes of noisy bathroom. When I walked back into the bathroom after I got off the phone, the Second Law of Thermodynamics had reared it’s beastly head: the kids had taken two cups I keep by the tub to use for washing their hair, had filled them up repeatedly, and dumped them over the side of the tub. I suddenly realized that, like Peter, I was walking on water! ALOT of water!

Five towels later I managed to mop up the mess. Needless to say, the bell has rung and class is dismissed…for today.