Mighty Works and Real Life Angels

I can hardly believe it. Coop sashayed right into preschool this morning, didn't cry a single tear or throw a single Goldfish Cracker. Unbelievable. All these times of separating with the tears and the drama and the puppy dog eyes. Not a single tear. Galloped over to the toys and didn't even stop to kiss me goodbye.

I stood there all awkward and lost until I realized that I should just walk down the hall and out the door.

I might have cried just a wincy bit in the parking lot. And on my way to work. And on my way to Target. Alone. Target, y'all. Alone. I didn't even know what to do. I wheeled my red buggy (full of Coop-sized goodies) aisle by aisle just staring at things in silence. Did you know they make mint flavored marshmallows now?

I met Abby and Parker Baby for lunch. Got all sorts of choked up holding him. Almost boo hooed all over our Rico's samiches. I couldn't help it. To touch a real life, living, breathing miracle absolutely took my breath away. I'm saying. Our mighty God moves mountains every single day. He is sovereign. He is good. And that Parker Baby is Grace in the flesh. I could have sat and stared at him all the live long day.

I swang by to scoop Coop, only it seems he didn't want to come home. SO incredibly blessed by his precious teachers and his preschool. SO.

Preschool and Social Media

I got a little choked up this morning at Super Coop's preschool open house.

And not entirely because he is growing up WAY.TOO.FAST.

And not entirely because he has THE. MOST. AMAZING. TEACHERS. in all the world. But seriously, he does. Is it possible to fall in love with sweet people any faster than I have with Ms. Catherine and Ms. Whitney?

We have always been blessed with the most incredible caregivers for Coop. Ms. Lori is an absolute one of a kind. She was, and still is, a rock for our family. I handed little 13 pound Coop over to her at 12 weeks and never worried about him for one second. She dealt with us when Chris lost his hair and I lost my mind. Through it all, she loved on us all like crazy and showered Coop with more love than he could handle. We moved and Ms. Emily came into our lives (and home) and loves Coop like he was one of her own. He goes to sleep and wakes up saying "Miss Emily coming today, Mama?" She wakes her TWO cutie patooties up at the butt crack of dawn, drives a long, long way and is outnumbered by sweet (but rowdy) little boys three days a week. Having Holden and Rylan as super buddies is just too cool.

Remember that whole 3 month streak where we got the silent tap or page during worship to go and wrangle Cooper? Remember when he cried all over the felt Jesus and dropped  threw his Goldfish crackers because he couldn't handle us leaving him? Enter: need for a little healthy dose of preschool. Circle time and centers and chapel, sign us up.

I was pulling through the Chick-fil-a drive through crying into my sweet tea cup this morning, thanking God for allowing me the opportunity to be with him more. Signing him up for church preschool would have been next to impossible, had I stayed on full time at CHOA. Working that much was fine and dandy. It really was. But being able to be an active part of his little life just tickles me silly. I have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude that he gets to participate in such an amazing program and that I well, get to be his mama.

I've had an off week with "social media". Do y'all ever get that way? Like one of those sit at the kitchen table and wring my hands over where our generation is headed. Old soul. I know it. I am addicted to Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, Blogspot, Words with Friends. I really am. I love keeping up with so many sweet folks and spending hours pinning incredible homemade dinners while Coop eats peanut butter and jelly for supper.

It's all super duper but this week in particular, I began to realize how 1) I miss real conversation 2) As parents, we are too often guilty of texting and checking ____ (insert addiction of choice) while missing crucial moments in our children's lives. Cooper almost fell in the bathtub because I was busy pinning a homemade ruffle Christmas tree skirt pin, y'all. A Christmas tree skirt. No lie. 3) Comparision is the thief of joy and social media is one giant pin board begging you to compare yourself to others. 4) Everyone has an opinion (always have had, I know it), social media just allows us all to lambast opinions on everything from breastfeeding to politics to chicken and sometimes, it's not because I don't value everyone's opinions (isn't that what's so fun about social media?), it's just I just don't always wanna be bombarded with information overload. Opinionated about opinions. (Pardon me, it's just the Clomid talkin darlin.) And most importantly (yes, I am still ranting about social media through social media) 5) how stinkin' accountable we must be for our words. I'm serious. I think sometimes we forget just how impactful we can be. I witnessed two situations this week where people I love were significantly impacted through social media. Status updates can be almost as much fun as eating cotton candy and corn dogs and going for a spin on the tiltawhirl but I think we should be called to a higher standard about how we choose to broadcast ourselves. I had to stop and ask myself if the good Lord called me home right now, would I absolutely streak nekkid up to heaven proud of the imprint I have left?

Nothing says it better than an e-card.

Cheers to modern technology, y'all, cheers!

We do pantsless.

Have y'all seen that darlin' quote floating around the Pinterest Stratosphere that says something about "We do sorry. We do thank you. We do goodnight kisses. We do second chances..." Blah, blah?

I want one that says "We do pantsless".

And "We do Christmas-wreaths-stashed-on-the-floor-of-the-office-un-put-away-until-August". *Emily, don't lie, I know you've seen them.*

And "We do 10:30 pm bedtimes".

Because that's how it goes around here. 75% of the day Cooper doesn't have pants on. He plays out in the back yard in his Thomas the Train skibbies. He runs shrieking along the catwalk in his crab clad undies.

I'd blame it on potty trainin but that was done months ago. Every time he accompanies me to the potty, which by the way, I want "We do communal 20 question potty time" on my sign too, he asks: "Mommy, you potty trainin'?" or "You done potty trainin' yet mommy?"

I have a gazillion pictures of him that I have been itchin' to post but he isn't wearing pants in any of them. And I thought y'all'd be all "that's so weird" and "why does she let her child run around like a wild banchee pantless" and all.

So if I thought if I had that quote on a sign, then maybe I'd be excused.

Coop is attached (understatement) to his Woody right now.

He takes that dern doll EVERYWHERE. And I won't dare stop him. It's too stinkin' cute.

He pushes Woody in the swing. He lets Woody drive his Cozy Coupe. He fixes Woody supper. And let's him play with his Legos. Today I walked in and found him putting Woody in time out. Um. Is there a manual for parenting out there? Anyone? Anyone?

Woody's pants are attached. Guess he never had to do his potty trainin'.

This morning we were getting ready to go meet our sweet friend Lori for lunch (interpreted: I was trying to put on make up while blocking Coop from getting into my bathroom cabinet with one leg and trapping him in the bathroom with the other) and Woody, welp, fell into the loo.

Coop was heartbroken. He hollared something about "Woody can't swim, Mama" and made me drop my blush brush and come runnin'.

Baywatcher. Right here on a Wednesday morning. Pantless. With Christmas Wreaths still out. And baggy eyes from too late bedtimes.

It's a beautiful mess and I sure wouldn't trade one nanosecond for anything in the world.

Down to a Nub

6 years!

6 years ago we had no idea just how far we'd come. No idea how much our love would grow. No idea how many blessings God would pour out over our family. No idea how strong we could be (or would have to be). We've gotten wrinkles, laugh lines, battle scars. We've learned to put God first, to lean on each other, and to be grateful for every moment of every day. 

*Two hands this year made things interesting. We got tangled. *

6 times on the way home to scoop Coop last night we asked "ARE WE THERE YET?"

6 times we thanked God over and over.

6 times I wondered if He created the oceans, knowing that we would need to see them and to know He is near.

6 times we hugged and kissed our little man and told him how much we missed him.

6 times we told our parents how much we love and appreciate them.

Coop grew up a trillion times while we were away this past weekend.

He even (gasp) gave.up.his.pappy last night when we got home. Yes. He still had one. Sort of. If you'd call it that? It's been a process.

Anyway, he woke up this morning, told me he learned how to gallop (proved it right then and there by doing two laps around the laundry room) and told me he is just fine without it.

Done. He's down to a nub. Victory!

Honey Boo Boo and Baton Relays

I'm addicted to two new things as of this week.

1. Honey Boo Boo Child. It's 1000% ridiculous. I love it for about a gazillion reasons. For starters, it's a sister show to my Toddlers and Tiaras train wreck. In addition, it involves a teacup piggy, mud diving, awkward filming with silent pauses at the most hilarious of moments, pregnant teenagers, and bug scratchin' crazy people. I might have danced about our bedroom in my pajamas saying "A Dollah makes me Hollah" until I Chris couldn't stand it any longer. Did you expect any less from me?

Moving on.

2. Mama Laughlin. Her blog. It's insanely inspiring and a written with lingo that is more-fly-than-I-could-ever-try-to-be. I can't stop reading it.

Chris and I have been running a lot.  Go ahead and interpret that loosely. We have formed our own sort of Davis Family Relay Team at the duckie park where we pass the baton jog stroller while we sweat and heave from heat exhaustion while Coach Coop sings Chariots of Fire.

Mama Laughlin's blog. She has lost a crazy amount of weight and is a fashionista/Super Woman all wrapped up in one. My favorite thing? She says things like "I'd rather *poop* in my hands and clap" when asked why she doesn't have a Twitter account, and "holy calf fries" when she talks about stuffed peppers, and "*heck* yes, I can do that twice, in heels, pushing a baby stroller" when asked if she will ever run a full marathon, and my alltimefavorite "the vom (dot) com" when speaking of all things throw-up.

Oh, and "lamesauce". I like that one too.

She is sure to make me laugh. And run harder. And faster (than Chris). JK, honey. You smoke me every time.

Anyway thanks to Honey Boo Boo Child and Mama Laughlin, I survived this week.

Which rocked, because I had my pretty much least favorite day in all of history at work on Tuesday. That just about never ever ever happens because I am crazy in love with what I do. Crazy. But still. It was a bad day. I cried. In front of my co-workers.

I blame it on the fertility woes that also accompanied this week. Jazz hands. Fist pumps. Bleh.

You know what though? In less than 12 hours I will have my toes in the sand with this man:

Um. No, not the un-named fireman. My Big Love. Chris Davis.

The man I love like crazy. Upside down and inside out. 11 years of burnin' love, 6 years of wedded bliss. SIX! We've been through a few things together. Just a few. He is my wing man. My heart and soul. My rock. My hero.

Love him, love him, love him.

**Oncologist appointment in the morning on the way to tickle toes in the sand--whisper a tiny prayer for God's continued grace if you think to, pretty please?**

Oh, and if anyone wants to come over and watch Honey Boo Boo with me, I've got it DVRed. That's right. 90 minutes of space on the DVR. Thankyouverymuch.



Cooperisms

Nerd alert. I love language. I'm a speech path. I just can't help myself.

*Disclaimer: Please excuse this silly post...it's just that I really, really want to remember these things when I'm 87 and sitting on the front porch of Cracker Barrel with my orthopedic shoes, hearing aids, and AARP card.*

We started a list of Cooperisms when he was about 14 months old. Hilarious things he says that we just don't have the heart to correct. Ever. (Bad SLP).

  1. "Teaf" Translation: I want some more sweet tea please.

  2. "Rain, Rain Go Gah-way".

3. "Chachi-nip" Translation: Chocolate Milk

4. "Tommy" Translation: Thomas the Train. They are real good buds. Nick name status and all.

5. "Can-Canes" Translation: All things "candy" related. Except for "la-pops".

6. "Biaper" Translation: Diaper.

7. "Boccah Ball" Translation: Soccer Ball.

8. "Ba-lelly" Translation: Peanut Butter and Jelly. Daddy's all time fave.

9. "Soft Pillows" Translation: Marshmallows.

10. "Swocks" Translation: Socks.

11. "Down Nares" Translation: Downstairs. Or down your nares. Either whicha way.

12. "Boogah". Translation: Ugly green boogers.

13. "Famote" Translation: Remote Control.

14. "Alligator" Translation: Elevator. In Macy's.

15. "Beench" Translation: Bench. Country Bumpkin. I will never ever correct this. Mostly because I love to see other people's faces at the park when he says he's going to go sit on the beench and take a rest.

16. "Goggles" Translation: Bugles. Chip off the old block. He's hooked.

17. "Fire-n-rice" Translation: I would like to go out for Hibachi, please.

18. "Pissy-Wasser" Translation: Pressure Washer. Mimi's all time fave. It's terrible.

19. "W" Translation: His Spring Horse's name down at the farm.

20. Our forever favorite. "Sgwgwy". Sound it out. It will make you giggle. Translation: Squidgy.

I will be the first to admit that I can't help but shed a tear or two when he loses a Cooperism. I also cry when he puts his toy trains down the toilet and when he takes Chris' hand and calls him his "best friend".

Love this little man to pieces. Pictures are from our fab day over at the Southeastern Railway Museum in Duluth. It was almost more fun that we could handle. Best $19 spent in a long, long time.



Mustard Seeds/Revisited

Remember when I wrote about mustard seeds and faith way back when? http://betweenthelines-alidavis.blogspot.com/2010/06/mustard-seed.html

I had almost forgotten. Almost.

I was reminded of them again this morning at church. Those tiny little mustard seeds.

Remember when a mystery friend prayer warrior dropped some off in our mailbox to remind me? http://betweenthelines-alidavis.blogspot.com/2010/06/mustard-seeds-in-mailbox.html

Those mustard seeds. They just keep coming back. And I am so glad they do.

On Friday I tripped over my own feet in the garage on the way in from the grocery store and stomped and shouted obscenities until I was crying so hard I was laughing. It hit me like a pie in the face that I feel ungraceful again.

Tripping over your own feet will do that to you.

But truthfully, it's not just the simple fact that I am clumsy.

It's my soul. I'm trying to be graceful I really am. I find myself drawing closer to Him and farther from my self and I instantly know that His grace is carrying me. But when I tripped, well, I had just realized that it was Friday the 13th and the last Friday the 13th we had, we found ourselves at Northside, losing Ella Grace.

WhateverhappenedtoonlyhavingoneFridaytheThirteenthperdecade?!??!!

Amazing that 3 months later, He is still teaching me so very very much from a tiny little baby girl who I never even got to meet.

Kevin Queen reminded us to ask ourselves if we are loving our blessings more than we are loving the bless-er.

Pie in the face right there on the church pew.

I have been crying out to Him to please please please heal me. To please please please give us the desires of our hearts. To please please please let us experience the joys of bringing another little one into this world.

I've focused more on praying for the blessing than on drawing nearer to the bless-er.

I had stashed my jar of mustard seeds in the break-up-with-Kudzu-cardboard-box way up high in the tip top of the closet. It's only now that I realize I am right back there again. In need of mustard seed faith.

If you need me, I'll be that girl re-aligning my heart and my priorities, avoiding pie in the face moments, in the name of drawing nearer to my Jesus. The bless-er who has already blessed us beyond measure.