By Hannah Davis

Devious Dogs and Countermeasures

Posted on March 27, 2014March 27, 2014 by Hannah Davis

We always get dogs and then wish we hadn’t gotten dogs. Because dogs are super annoying.

We thought we’d learned our lesson with Chester, the grumpy old beagle. But then we needed to get Oliver, my therapy dog. So lesson-learned turned into lesson-forgotten.

And once you get a dog, you have to keep it.

(I mean, I understand that sometimes it’s impossible. Like if you adopt a dog and then realize your throat starts to close up every time you’re around it, that’s something to consider. Or if your landlord threatens to evict you… I get it. But if it’s just that you realize they poop a lot? Not a good reason.)

Because when you get a dog, you’re committing to care for it. JESUS wants you keep that dog, because he made people to be caretakers of the earth and animals (but hopefully not plants, because I always kill plants on accident). And dogs are people too (not really), and they have feelings (really). And if they get ditched, they are sad and confused.

So dogs are for life.

But they are annoying. Because of them, we had to get a new garbage can.

What we used to have was the kind with the swinging top. And I wasn’t in love with it or anything. Because it always swung shut just as you were dumping the coffee grounds in, and then you’d end up with grounds on the lid, on the floor, in your shoes, etc. And the kids only half-heartedly pushed it open as they threw away the foil from the tops of their yogurts. So there were always yogurt foils stuck to the lid.

Basically all the garbage was on the lid instead of in the garbage can.

So it wasn’t the garbage can of our dreams. But when I go to the store, there a lot of things on my list before buying something new to throw waste into.

Chester, the beagle, had become pretty adept at swiping stuff out of this trash can. But he tried to be subtle. If we weren’t looking, he’d poke his nose in and quickly sneak something off the top of the garbage pile.

But lately… Lately, he’d lost even the hint of subterfuge. Also, apparently his neck had grown 3 sizes longer. Because I started to find pieces of garbage strewn around the house when the can was barely half full.

Oliver, the Yorkie, loved it. He was too short to get in the can himself, but he was happy to take the remnants of anything Chester pulled out. For all I know, he was egging Chester on. I just kept picking up garbage and dealing.

Until.

Chester got a diaper. A poopy one.

That was the last straw. I mean, I don’t know what that stuff in diapers is, but it’s awful. Like little gel-balls of sticky evil. You can’t vacuum it up. You can’t wipe it up. I don’t even know…

So I told Chris that it was time for a new trash can. One with a foot peddle to lift the lid. I highly doubt that Chester can figure out how to get into that.

If he does, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Posted on March 20, 2014March 20, 2014 by Hannah Davis

The thing I probably hate the most about moving to a new city is finding all new doctors, dentists, veterinarians, etc.

It’s hard to make wise choices when we are unfamiliar with the layout of a city and don’t know a lot of people to ask for recommendations. Every move, we’ve ended up just picking something or we’ve gone with a chain. Because at least we’d heard of them before.

Unfortunately, we haven’t usually liked what we’ve ended up stuck with. Once we’ve gotten used to the city and make some friends who know of good places, we just have to switch again.

And that is actually even more awful!

Because you have to break up with your old dentist/doctor/vet.

Personally, I want to sheepishly just NEVER GO BACK. But the new office always needs my records and apparently it’s illegal for them to ask for them… or something. So I have to do it.

There are awkward phone calls, where I try to make nice excuses for never darkening their door again. Like, “Oh, we just needed to find something closer to our home. Yes. Yes, I realize you have a location only 8 minutes from my house…” UGH!

It’s just that I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I’ve been known to stay in an unpleasant professional relationship, just to avoid making someone feel bad.

So. Within the past few months we’ve switched pediatricians, dentists and our veterinarian.

I’ve been ignoring our old dentist’s calls and voicemails. Poor guy, he’s probably worried our teeth are rotting out of our heads. But I just don’t have the heart to tell him I couldn’t handle the guilt and constant up-selling of fancy procedures any more.

With the vet, our old one was a chain location and our new one is a little, local place. Up until this week, I hadn’t needed to “fess” about leaving the old one, but now Chester’s shots are overdue. So I had to make the call to get his immunization records faxed over.

I rationalized that the old vet is a chain, so they probably don’t care one way or the other, right?

They answered the phone, “How can I help your fur-baby?” Gah. The guilt!

But I was cool. I asked for her to fax Chester’s records “somewhere.” When she asked where to send them, I simply gave her the fax number.

Then she said, “What company is this going to?” DRAT DRAT DRAT

I told her the name of our new vet and then she added, “By the way, it looks like Chester is overdue on his shots.”

Seriously! Stop with the caring, already. I’m dumping you! Don’t you get it?

I mean, so far, we love all of our new dentists/doctors/vets. So it’s worth it.

…Right? Tell me it’s worth it.

How to Smell a Baby

Posted on March 10, 2014March 9, 2014 by Hannah Davis

Babies smell awesome. I should know. I smell one every day.

Now, I’m not talking about poop-smell. No. Poop-smell exists to weed out the weak, the unworthy.

But the good smell. Oh man. If you could bottle that and sell it, you’d be a millionaire. It smells like happiness and joy, and (in my baby’s case) coconut oil.

Now, there is an optimum way to smell a baby. You can’t just walk up to an infant and sniff. I mean, it wouldn’t be bad if you did, but you’d miss out on the full experience.

How to properly smell a baby:

1. Find the sweet spot. This is typically located between the cheek and ear. Or sometimes on the neck.

2. Press your nose and lips to the sweet spot. It helps if your nose is slightly smashed into the sweet spot.

3. Kiss and inhale at the same time.

You have officially smelled a baby.

You are now addicted.

Shy No More

Posted on March 7, 2014March 6, 2014 by Hannah Davis

The other night, I commented to a group of friends, “I’m shy.”

I’ve been saying some version of this for years: “I’m shy until you really get to know me.” Or, “I really am shy, but I’m just good at faking it.”

The thing is, I think I’m wrong. I’m not shy at all.

I’m just potentially awkward and sometimes anti-social. Which is totally different.

I think I must have declared myself shy before I heard of the concept of introverts and extroverts. Growing up, I just thought, “Everyone I know always wants to hang out and PARTAY! And I just want to sit home and watch a movie. I must be shy.”

No. That’s not shy.

Sometimes, when I’m talking to people, I don’t know what to say. But I keep talking anyway. Because that’s what I do. Or, I stop abruptly, because their eyes are glazed over. So that’s awkward. But not shy.

It was a couple of weeks ago when it started to dawn on me that I might not be shy. I was talking to someone, who said that she’d heard when a person is shy, it’s a form of self-obsession. Because they are always worrying about what other people think of them.

Not trying to hate on actual shy people. But what I just shared is obviously scientific FACT. You can tell, because I heard it from someone, who heard it from someone. And that’s how FACTS are proven.

But I started to wonder. Because I have lots of faults, but worrying about what people think about me isn’t on the top of my list. Mainly because I forget to worry about it. When I do find out that people think something about me, I’m always very, very surprised.

Whether they think nice things or what could be construed as not-so-nice things, I just kind of marvel that they used brain space on me at all. So, it’s actually very thoughtful of them, either way.

But it’s weird, because I’ve self-styled myself as shy for years. Realizing I might actually not be is like an identity crisis or something.

Instead of saying, “I’m shy,” what do I say now?:

“I’m a bit awkward and need copious amounts of alone time in order to avoid feeling like an insane person.”

It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Or, I could just let them figure it out for themselves. But that would require people to be thinking about me, which I doubt they really have the time for.

It was so much easier when I was shy.

Texting and the Modern Child

Posted on February 25, 2014February 25, 2014 by Hannah Davis

Now, don’t get all self-righteous or report me to your favorite crunchy parenting blog when I tell you this: My 7 year old daughter texts.

I mean, it’s just from her iPod and only to extended family. But it’s still a bit different than when I was growing up.

Especially how it affects parenting.

The other day Chris was away from the house and I got a text from him, “I told Leah she could get up and play at 3:15.”

The thing is, Leah wasn’t feeling good and I had done what any sensible mom would do. I told her to take a nap.

She, on the other hand, felt there were more important things she needed to attend to. We had already had quite the discussion about this, but I hadn’t heard any sounds coming from her room for a while.

So I told him, “I think she’s sleeping now.” I mean, there was no way I was going to wake a sick child, just so she could get her playtime in.

Chris replied, “No. She’s texting me.”

Really? Really?!

I thought the girl was peacefully sleeping her sickness away, with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. But no. She was texting her dad, trying to get out of Mommy Jail.

It was the classic, “If you don’t like the answer from one parent, try the other one,” ploy.

So. I guess, maybe technology hasn’t really changed parenting that much after all.

Date Expectations

Posted on February 14, 2014February 14, 2014 by Hannah Davis

You know dates? Like in the movies?

I’m talking about the kind where the people hold hands and gaze soulfully into each others’ eyes, while talking about feelings. Yeah. I’ve rarely had one of those.

In fact, Chris and I were already dating for a couple of weeks before we even had our first date date.

We’d been getting along fine taking walks through my apartment complex or sitting in his truck eating Wendy’s. But somehow, dinner at a fancy restaurant (we were college students, so fancy was like Mexican or something) seemed different.

I was 19 and melodramatic and so I started thinking, “We’re sitting here awkwardly, not talking. Maybe we’re incompatible. Maybe he doesn’t like me any more. Maybe we don’t have chemistry!” Chris was probably thinking nothing. Because not-talking was normal for him. I just didn’t know that at the time.

But I shouldn’t have been surprised, because my favorite fictional guys are always dark and angsty: the silent, mysterious types, with deep inner brooding.

Favorite Jane Austen hero? Mr. Darcy.
Favorite X-Man? Wolverine.
Favorite Disney prince? The Beast. (But then he had to go and turn into that annoying prince. I’m sure Belle was disappointed, although she hid it well.)

I mean, I’m not saying my husband is silent and angsty… but I do have a type. So.

What movies don’t tell you is that when you go on a date with Wolverine, he doesn’t talk a lot. In fact, if you try to get Wolverine to discuss his feelings, he actually gets a little surly. I’m just guessing about that, though.

Back to Chris and I. After lots of semi-silent dates, Chris asked me to marry him on the day before Valentine’s. Which I’m REALLY glad about. Because I hate cliché sentimentality. And it’s so hard to get a dinner reservation on actual Valentine’s.

So last night we went out to a new Mexican place to celebrate our engagement anniversary (if that’s a thing). And not much has changed since that first date. We’re still eating Mexican (although, this place was way more upscale than the little hole-in-the-wall where we started). And we we didn’t talk a lot about feelings (trust me, I tried).

But the silent, mysterious guy I’m on a date with… is my best friend. Turns out we’re very compatible. And the lack of verbose conversation is more companionable than awkward now. I mean, we actually have our best conversations while the kids are trying to shoot us with Nerf guns, anyway.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to quit using dates to try to talk about feelings.

My Country Song

Posted on February 6, 2014April 23, 2014 by Hannah Davis

I only listen to country music when I go to the dentist, because he likes to add to the torture. But I am very concerned about people in Nashville. They must have the saddest lives.

Today, I think I empathized with them a bit.

Well. Actually it started yesterday, which was a snow day.

Not the…

bundle up, go sledding, build a snowman, come inside and have hot cocoa, curl up by the fire and watch a movie… kind of snow day.

No, only kids get those kind of snow days. Moms get…

“I’m bored,” piles of wet clothes, whining because the glove is missing, arguing over the Xbox, “why didn’t you buy hot cocoa?”, no personal space… kind of snow days. Which are not quite as exciting.

So, while I should have been doing happy dances because JCPS had declared the roads drivable and everything was going back to our regularly scheduled programming, my minivan thwarted me.

(The fact that I even have to say “my minivan” should have been enough for a sad country song.)

But, as if my imposed soccer mom status wasn’t enough, it also decided to freeze its automatic doors shut.

This wasn’t really a shocker, since it had been tormenting me this way all winter. Ironically, it only froze shut on the side that the baby-carrier base was strapped in. And it wasn’t satisfied with just a door that wouldn’t open. When it refused to budge, the internal sensor decided the door was indeed open, and felt compelled to warn me of impending doom. By beeping. All the way to school.

Eventually by shoving on the door, I convinced it that it was shut.

With the beeping stopped, and since we didn’t have hot cocoa or milk or bread, I followed the school drop-off by going to the grocery store, before our lives came to a grinding halt via another snow day.

You know I wasn’t going to touch Enoch’s door again, and risk the beeping. So after struggling to get him out by crawling across the seat from the opposite side, I tried to get my reusable grocery bags out of my trunk. Turns out, that was also frozen shut. The trunk is kind of important for grocery shopping, but whateves… I was in too deep to stop now.

After I had successfully purchased the hot cocoa and other necessities, I loaded the baby back in and shoved all the groceries into the front passenger seat.

I just wanted to drive home. But now the sensor for the trunk was going off. Eventually, I just gave up and drove home. Beep. Beep. Beep. All. The. Way.

When we arrived at our house, the back door (that’s been sticking recently) refused to open, so I lugged the baby carrier across the snowy yard and through the icy bushes to go in the front door.

And did I mention that I forgot my gloves? And that I spilled my coffee coming back into the house? But that’s OK, because the coffee had gotten cold anyway.

This is my sad country song. But I’m singing, “amazing grace” and sipping my ~~beer~~ cold coffee with my dogs at my feet. I’m praying for the soldiers. And it’ll all be OK, because I’ve got my ~~pickup truck~~ minivan to see me through.

Baby FAQ

Posted on January 8, 2014January 8, 2014 by Hannah Davis

Basically, when you have a new baby, everyone asks the same questions. Which is fine, because at least I know what to expect. Like, if they asked me math problems or something, it would totally throw me off.

So, to save everyone time, I’ll just cover the most common baby questions.

How are you adjusting?

I’m not sure. But then again, I don’t even know what day it is. I mean, I never sleep straight through the night and I don’t even know what “personal space” is anymore.

None of this comes as a shock, since I’ve done it a couple of times before.

But there’s no adjusting about it. You don’t get used to having an infant puke down the INSIDE of your shirt (there’s a reason Jesus makes babies so adorable). It’s never really enjoyable to clean poop off of someone’s butt.

You just survive, wishing he’d stay small forever and hoping he’ll potty train in the next week or so.

Is he a good baby?

What EXACTLY makes a baby good? He doesn’t rob banks or anything. So yeah, he’s pretty darn good.

Has he reached ______ developmental milestone?

OK, just don’t ask this one. It basically giving me a recipe for something to worry about.

When Enoch was about a month and a half, we went to the pediatrician. The nurse quizzed me from her developmental list:

“If he wakes up crying in his crib, and nothing is wrong, does he calm himself down and go back to sleep?”

Um. No. Does any baby? I’ve certainly never had one that did.

My kids have all been very goal oriented people, so when they wake up, it’s because they need something done. And they will not relent until it’s accomplished.

“Does he follow you with his eyes?”

I… I don’t… Um. I haven’t noticed. OMG. MAYBE HE’S BLIND.

(He started following us with his eyes about a week after the appointment, so I’m breathing again.)

“Is he giggling and smiling?”

No. No, he just stares at us with huge eyes and a serious face. (Yes, I realize this should have negated the blindness question.) So, if he’s not smiling, maybe he doesn’t like us. Maybe he’s not happy! Oh dear.

(He is starting to smile. I guess he’s planning to keep us.)

“Is he sleeping through the night?”

Don’t. Just don’t.

Now that I’ve covered the basics, you don’t have to bother with them next time you see me. You can just walk up and ask the question you’re REALLY dying to ask:

“Can I hold him?”

Yes. Yes you may.

I was Mad at God

Posted on November 13, 2013 by Hannah Davis

When our first adoption match failed, I was mad. Really, really mad at God.

It’s not that I think I’m some entitled person who should never have any hardship. But God had specifically spoken to both Chris and I that we were to pursue that match. Even when our very wise Adoption Consultant cautioned us against it, we didn’t feel released to back out.

So I was angry. Because God made me walk down a path that He knew would end in pain. I didn’t have a road-map for that kind of God. It’s not a side of Him that is usually talked about on Sunday mornings. He’s scary.

In 2 Samuel 6:1-9, David was bringing the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. He was doing it to honor the Lord. As they were traveling and worshiping, the Ark almost tipped, so one guy put his hand up to steady it. And God killed him. For doing what seemed like the right thing.

It says David was angry with the Lord. And it says David feared the Lord. I think he was angry and afraid because he didn’t have parameters for that kind of God.

Because God is beyond us.

He does things in a way we never would. His methods of being good are different than our ideas of goodness. But He IS good.

At the end, that was the only place I could land. God’s goodness was different than mine, but I had to trust that He is good. Reading the Psalms that David wrote, I think that’s where he always landed too.

A month and a half after the first mom decided to parent her baby, we found out about another situation. A situation where all the pieces fell into perfect order.

We were matched with an expectant mom who was due in only a few weeks. We loved her from the moment we talked with her on the phone. She was steadfast and committed to her adoption plan. We all became like family.

When the baby was born, she included us in every step of the process. We were amazed at how beautiful the experience was and were so honored to share it with her.

After 5 days, papers were signed and Enoch Irvin Warrior Davis was our son.

None of that beautiful story would have been ours if the first match had happened according to the plan.

I can’t necessarily say it all makes sense, even now. But I am convinced that God’s goodness led us to where we are today. The path was twisted, hard and confusing, but I can rest that He led us.

And that’s all I really need to know.

Our little warrior:

Grief Therapy

Posted on September 9, 2013July 6, 2014 by Hannah Davis

When we started the adoption process, we had at least an idea of the risks involved.

We knew that nothing was for sure until the mom signed. The baby wasn’t our baby until that happened.

But when the expectant mom we were matched with decided to parent her baby, all of our emotional preparation didn’t keep us from being devastated.

We were thankful she made the decision shortly before we actually met the baby. We were thankful we didn’t bring the baby home and then she change her mind. It could have been so much harder.

But that is small consolation when you were expecting a baby and you end up with nothing but air.

I think everyone grieves loss and disappointment differently. For us…

We got a puppy.

Really, Chris probably would have done anything to make me happy again. Except getting the kitten that I suggested. He always draws the line at cats.

But when I jokingly said something about settling for a puppy, he was on his phone faster than lightening, looking at puppy listings.

I weakly protested the idea. However, when we met up with a lady in an Indiana Chick-Fil-A parking lot to see her 7-week-old Yorkie puppy, I lost all will power.

We brought home the little ball of fluff and named him Oliver.

And he’s kind of like a therapy dog (which I think means I can take him in the grocery store, right?). Because I’ve been pretty much okay since we got him.

Basically, it’s prep for when we DO adopt. Because he’s about as high maintenance as a baby.

I just hope I get him potty-trained before that happens.