Evan Update...

Here is Evan's 5th Grade picture taken August 28th, 2007. (10 years and 1 month old)

I noticed recently that both Adam and Brian have several posts dedicated solely to them. I want Evan to be represented as well so, I would like to share what my first born has been up to lately.

Evan, continues to amuse me...he inherited his Dad's splendid sense of humor and catches me off kilter a lot.

Recently, I told Evan that he needed to hurry up and get dressed for church, and he said to me with a smug, smirk on his face, as he fixed his dress shirt collar, "Mom, you can't rush the man." He caught me off guard with his little quip...I basically responded with....*blink* *blink*, "What did you just say?" He then kept putting on his shirt with the same smug smile and walked out of the room, causing me to ask myself where, on earth, he comes up with some of the things he says. I don't really need to look far for my answer. Mike says a lot of hilarious things like that. I guess I just wasn't prepared to hear my 10 year old to refer to himself as "the man".

Yesterday, Evan didn't have any clean socks in his drawers. I told him they were all in the clean laundry basket and he said in an, for lack of a better way to describe it, aristocratic sounding voice, "Put them on my beautiful feet." I decided to play along and replied as I knelt down, "Yes, master...." I went to put a sock on his outstretched foot and he said in his stately voice, "Wait a moment!" and then he pretended to spit shine his bare foot with the base of his palm and stood back up and said, "Okay, now!" I laughed and asked, "Where do you come up with this stuff, son?" He shrugged and went off to find his shoes.

Brian was crying the other day about how he couldn't get his school clothes off (he tried to pull his pants off without taking his shoes off and ran into major trouble) and needed help to get his Batman outfit on. My hands were wet, (silly me, trying to prepare dinner) and I told Brian he would have to wait for help. That, of course, devastated Brian further, so he wailed louder, and Evan responded in total frustration, because he was trying to complete his homework, "Brian, not all of us care about YOUR needs!" We all burst out laughing after that, well, Brian didn't , but I was stymied again, as to where Evan comes up with some of the things he says.
(editorial note: To my Mom, and my Mother-in-Law, I would be willing to testify in a court of law, that I have never said such a thing. I truly care about these children's needs...which is evidenced by the fact that I have not run screaming into the night...yet)

A couple of months ago, Brian said, "Evan has Mater teeth." He meant "Mater teeth" as in Tow-Mater, from the movie, Cars. The reason I am even sharing this story is not to poke fun at Evan but, to compliment him on how well he took it. He didn't yell at Brian or cry. (I probably would have). He laughed it off, and said that he thought it was funny. I guess you really had to be there, but it showed a lot of maturity on Evan's part. Sorry, about having big teeth, Evan...it is definitely a Schwartz (my maiden name) trait.

I happen to think Mater is adorable, and you are already better looking anyway!


Evan was made an officer in the mandatory 5th grade 4-H program. I told him not to become too drunk with power. ( I was surprised that the 4-H program is mandatory. I don't know why I was so surprised, this is Georgia, after all.) Anyway, Evan came home and told me that there was a dance coming up for 4-H. I almost croaked. I responded along the lines of , "What!? You are only in the 5th grade...what is this DANCE you speak of !? You are not allowed to DANCE! You are 10! 10 year old 5th Graders don't Dance!" He just looked at me and said quietly, "Well, I think I am supposed to go." (He was referring to his responsibilities as an officer, I guess) I asked if there would be, "slow dancing" he kind of looked at me blankly, so I said, "You know, one on one with a girl?" He told me that he didn't know. I said that I really didn't think it was a good idea and he said, "You can come and watch me. You can drive in the mini-van and I will get a limo." Again, What!?! Where does he come up with this stuff?! We decided not to attend the dance and it wasn't because I am too cheap to pony up the jack for a limo. That whole conversation came with a realization. Evan will be in 6th grade next year. I am pretty sure there are dances in the 6th grade. I can't believe I am going to have to re-visit this subject so soon. *Sigh* I am going to have a middle-schooler next year. I am just not ready.

It is a tradition for some families in this town to get a limousine for their 5th grader to ride home in on the last day of school. Evan asked me if I was going to get one for him. I told him, "Sure...it will be a stretch limo. Bright yellow. Number 211" (Evan and Adam's bus number). I told him I would even secure a trustworthy driver, "His name is Mr. Turman." (Evan and Adam are chauffeured every day by their bus driver, Mr. Turman). He responded with laughter and finally said, "Good one, Mom." That is another thing I love about Evan. He still tells me when he thinks I am funny. It doesn't happen often, but I am so grateful for his seal of approval any time I can get it. We are on the cusp of the pre-teen years. I know it won't be long until he thinks I am a blithering idiot.

I will close with a sweet story that made me cry. Recently, one of Evan's teachers got married. She brought back all of the leftover party favors from her reception for the kids to enjoy. She gave them silky little drawstring bags filled with chocolate and many of the kids ate the chocolate and were going to throw the bags away. Evan brought me home several of the bags and said, "My friends were going to throw these away so, I saved them for you because I know you like pretty things." I then said a heartfelt, "Thank You, Evan!" and he responded with a cheery, "You're Welcome!" It just really touched me that he had thought of me, and that he used good manners in telling me, "You're Welcome." I Love You, Evan!

True To the Faith

June 23, 1910 - January 27, 2008

I have been filled with a lot of emotion about the passing of our dear Prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. He will be missed by all. He died peacefully yesterday, at the age of 97, surrounded by loved ones. I will always remember his wonderful counsel, his adorable sense of humor, and be grateful how his words helped me to strive harder to live righteously. I began to cry immediately upon hearing the news, but quickly felt comfort in knowing how happy he must feel to be reunited with his wife, Marjorie. He spoke often and openly about how much he missed her since her passing.

Tonight for Family Home Evening, Mike told our little family how, before he became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints he attended a session of General Conference with Geoff, the young man that shared the gospel with him. President Hinckley was not yet the Prophet at that time, and Mike said he didn't have an understanding of who he was as far as church leadership goes, but he distinctly remembered how good he felt when he heard him speak. He explained to us, how he didn't know at that time why he was so touched, and impressed with this man but later learned that it was the Spirit testifying to him that the words that President Hinckley was sharing were true.

We love him, we will miss him, and we are happy for him to be with his eternal companion and at peace. Most of all, we are grateful to him for testifying of our Savior, Jesus Christ and how our personal testimonies have grown through his example.

Such a Great Guy!

Mike with the boys on Evan's Baptism Day, July 30th, 2007. (Evan 8 years old, Adam 5 years old Brian 2 years and 2 months old)

This past Friday, I became incredibly ill. When I say ill, I mean, I felt like I was going to have to roll over and die before I could actually feel better. I ached from head to foot...actually, my head felt like it was in a vise. I had neck pain and pain in my spine. I had a very high temperature, (at one point, it was 103 degrees) nausea and vomiting. I don't know if I had the stomach flu or food poisoning, or what~ but it hurt to even move.

So, here is where I wax poetic...

As always...Mike saved the day!

Not because he came home from work early because I couldn't get off of the couch...though, I can't express how grateful I am for that.

Not because he summoned our Home Teacher to give me a blessing with him...even though I protested because, I was afraid our Home Teacher would catch whatever I had, and feel like he was having a near death experience, just like I was.

Not because he took care of everything with the boys, while I mentally picked out which Hymns I wanted sung at my funeral service (okay, that was morbid but, seriously I was feeling deathly ill)

(on kind of a funny note, he took the boys to Lowe's for hours on Friday night, to get them out of the house and just look around, so I could sleep. I just thought it was kind of cute, my men all checking out hardware at Lowe's)

Not because he brushed all of the rats and snarls out of my hair because I had such a horrible case of "bed-head".

Not because he got me whatever I needed, whenever I asked.

Not because he still made sure the boys did all of their chores, read scriptures, and said their prayers.

But because, he did what he does, every chance he can (even when I am not bedridden). He played with the boys. I could hear them outside my window playing football. All four of them were laughing and carrying on. They sounded like they were having the time of their lives. Then they moved the fun inside and I could hear all of them laughing as they truly enjoyed each others' company. I asked Mike what they had been playing in the family room and he said "Oh, just football." I didn't ask, and you know what~ I didn't even care. I am just so grateful for my husband. He is such a wonderful father, and in my opinion, which is based on factual evidence, he is tops at everything else, too.

I am so glad I lived to tell about my near death experience, because I want to spend a lot more time with my guy.

Please Be Brutally Honest....

Was my last post, "The Smell of Poop, Not Pie" a little too over the top? Upon reading it, did you feel a little nauseated?

I don't mean to lack class. It just sort of happens. Mike said that he was concerned that my last post might have been in poor taste. I wrote what was on my mind...sometimes I lack discretion, however. I kind of have a problem with, "diarrhea of the mouth"...oh sorry, I did it again...I kind of have problems with saying too much, ya know, a "word vomit" problem....oh, for pity sake, there I go again...

In all seriousness, please leave a comment and let me know how you truly feel. I PROMISE not to be offended.

The Smell of Poop, Not Pie...

My view from the throne. Don't worry, I wasn't actually using, said throne, when I took this picture.




Recently, a friend told me that whenever she smells baked goods she immediately thinks of her wonderful mother and the goodies (pie, in particular) that she lovingly prepared for her all throughout her childhood. It was delightful to hear her speak so highly of her childhood and I immediately thought about my mother teaching me to bake cookies and cakes. The sense of smell is an amazing gift. It never ceases to amaze me how just smelling a familiar scent or tasting something familiar can immediately cause intense memories to rush back into consciousness. After that discussion with my friend, I was more cognisant of the smells around me and the kind of effect they had on me.




Around the time of my new found appreciation for the senses of smell and taste I took my boys to see the movie Ratatouille. The villain, in this otherwise charming little movie, is a food critic portrayed in a dark and sinister manner. He had a ghastly pallor, and the animators supported their frightening images of him even in small details. (The typewriter he wrote his scathing reviews on had a skull on it, and in one ariel view of him the viewer could notice that the walls of his office were configured in the shape of a coffin.) My reason for bringing up the food critic in such vivid detail is because at one pinnacle point in the movie, this evil character's whole persona changes when he is served a dish of specially made ratatouille. As soon as the dish is brought to his mouth and passes his lips he is whisked away mentally to the French countryside and his childhood as a peasant boy, where his beloved mother made him the same wonderful meal. Because of the smell and taste of the ratatouille his heart is softened and he becomes a friendly, kind and approachable character.

Here is my dilemma. My children WILL NOT STAY OUT OF THE BATHROOM when I am "using the facilities" as they say. It appears that my children must have some sort of abandonment issues, because it really seems to be a hardship for them to leave me alone for just a few minutes. Apparently, granting me a little privacy is just TOO MUCH to ask. Perhaps, I had this coming to me because, I seem to remember my mom complaining that we wouldn't leave her alone when she was in the bathroom as I was growing up. She used to call out in frustration, "GRAND CENTRAL STATION!!!" as we would waltz into the bathroom, sometimes, one right after the other. I guess my kids just like having me as some sort of a captive audience. (Editorial Note: I always cover myself with a towel, at least, so that nudity isn't a concern.)

I recently said to Mike, "You know how people will say that the smell of pie, or something else delicious reminds them of home? Well, when our kids smell poop they are going to think of their Mother because, they won't stay out of the bathroom when I am in there!"

Well, I should look on the bright side. At least they want to be with me, right?

Disgruntled.

Night before last, something miraculous happened. It snowed in Georgia. It was only for about a 30 minute span...and then it turned to sleet...and then rain. My 3 boys were delirious with joy. They were dizzy with delight of the prospect of school on Thursday being delayed or, better yet, canceled. Adam was pulling on layer after layer of clothing, hoping to make a snow angel or a snowman. He ran outside for a few moments and ran back in to happily report that he heard the snow crunching under his feet!



To really understand the magnitude of Adam's joy, please step back in time with me to 2 years ago...



When we realized that we would be moving from the beautiful, serene, town of Blacksburg, Virginia, we decided to pray as a family about where we should relocate. Our first option was to accept a job offer that would take us to Winchester, Virginia. As mentioned in previous posts, we consider ourselves to be Virginians and we were hoping to stay in Virginia and just have to move several hours north. Winchester is considered to be a suburb of Washington, D.C. with the housing prices to match. It did not take long for us to realize that finding a house in Winchester for our growing family was going to be stiflingly expensive. (After a long day of looking at housing with outrageous pricing I remarked to Mike, "If we move here we are going to have to live in a pup-tent. My comment would have been witty, except for the fact that it was a true assessment, and soooo, not funny, at the time).


After returning home we decided to investigate the job offer that would take us to Augusta, Georgia. We realized quickly that, though we didn't want to leave our home state, a move to Georgia would mean a better paying position with a much friendlier housing market. We had been praying with the boys to be guided as to where we should go. We made lists of pros and cons and decided that a move to Georgia was in order.


I should have been more selective in what I shared with the boys in terms of the "cons" of moving to Georgia. Some of Adam's all time favorite things to do on the planet, are to play in the snow and go sledding. I will never forget him (age 5 at the time) coming to me with tear filled, big brown eyes and saying (because he knew at that point, we had decided to accept the position in Georgia). "Mom, I really think Jesus wants me to live where I can go sledding." It took some time to help Adam understand that Jesus wants us to live where Daddy has a good job and we don't have to live in a tent.


Now return in time with me to the present day. (I wish I could cue some sort of cool sound effect here)...



It began to actually snow the other night. I am not kidding...it was SNOW! Adam was layered and ready to begin all of his favorite snow related activities and as mentioned before, drunk with glee at the prospect of school being cancelled. It was over before it even began, though. All of Adam's beautiful snow turned to rain and was gone within an hour. He went to bed crestfallen but, still clinging to the hope of freezing conditions coming in the night and causing a layer of ice to at least cancel school. In the morning his saddest fears were confirmed when he realized that only rain was falling and school would not even be delayed.



He exclaimed to me, "I don't like Georgia! It never snows and no-one cheers for the Hokies!(Va. Tech). As he was dressing he said with resolve, "I am moving BACK TO VIRGINIA!!!!!!". I told Mike that we may need to be worried because he didn't even offer to let any of the rest of us move back with him.



Well, Adam...don't worry Aunts Jean and Peggy said that you are welcome to live with them...but I beg you to consider staying with our little family. We have really grown accustomed to having you around, and are very attached to you.



Here are some pictures from happier times. The winter before we left our homeland.







Ya know, I kinda' miss the photo ops.

Pictures taken December 2005 (Evan 8 years and 5 months old, Adam 5 years and 5 months old and Brian 2 year and 7 months old)

"The Sinker"....I mean....eh hem, "The Thinker"

The pre-school that Brian attends has started sending homework home several times a week. It would be an understatement to say that Brian is thrilled to have homework, just like his big brothers. Last night, as Brian was working on his homework he said to all of us firmly, "I need you to be quiet. I'm sinking about my homework." Then, he tapped his pencil against his temple with a serious look of concentration on his face. So I, of course, had to take a picture of Brian, "The Thinker" or parenthetically titled, as he would pronounce it, (The Sinker). He has been hearing his brothers tell him that he needs to be quiet so they could complete their homework for as long as he can remember so, I guess that Brian feels that telling others around him to be quiet is an integral part of the homework completion process. It made me laugh when I saw his look of concentration...so serious...so determined...even while wearing a Batman outfit and covered in green ink from stamping himself, instead of his paper during pre-school earlier that day. (His teacher was very concerned about Brian having decorated himself. I told her that I would talk to him about only stamping paper next time. I wanted to help her feel more at ease about it, and express that I wasn't angry, so I tried to handle the situation with humor and said, "Oh, you know Brian...he's into body art." She looked at me strangely and said in a serious tone, "You shouldn't say that...you know the kind of people that get tattoos." Okay lady, lighten up... sheesh. Anyway, I disturbed Brian when I snapped the first picture, but then I got this one...

Okay...nothing more to see here people...let's get serious, and let Brian get back to work.

January 2008 (Brian 4 years and 8 months old)

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

The Schwartz (my maiden name) siblings always draw names for gift exchanging at Christmas time. For Christmas 2006, (yeah, I'm kinda keeping with the whole posting about things that happened ages ago, aren't I?) Aunt Stephanie and Uncle Jon drew the Marshman family. We were thrilled upon hearing they had drawn our names, and loved all of the gifts they gave us. Well, when I say "we" I should mention that there is one gift that I wasn't too ga-ga over.



Enter.........The Bubba Teeth. Now, I didn't come up with that snappy little moniker for them, that was the name that came on their little package. Nice, huh? The Bubba teeth, to this day, frighten me. They are designed to look vile and are crafted out of smelly, slimy looking rubber. My kids and wonderful, loving, eternal companion love to give me the willies by chasing me around while donning a pair of these babies. You haven't lived, until you have had my Brian come up with his mouth so crammed with a pair of Bubba teeth that actual saliva is dripping from the side of his mouth say, (much like he has heard his father say but, Brian's mouth is chock-full of rubber), "Gimme a wittle kissy kiss, Mo-om!"



When we were visiting Aunt Stephanie for Christmas in December 2006 (Uncle Jon wasn't able to be there because he was in Winchester, Virginia staying with his parents, while he completed an internship) we attended church with her. Aunt Stephanie had to go to the front of the chapel at one point, to lead the Primary children in singing some Christmas songs. When she returned to the pew where we were sitting, she began to laugh as she slid past Mike. I looked over to see why she was giggling and saw my husband smiling back at me, wearing his Bubba Teeth. I shot him a warning glance, and he shrugged and blinked at me like, "What?" He didn't keep them in for very long, and for that I am truly grateful.



When Mike puts in his Bubba Teeth, he channels some sort of dirty old man and does this tongue thrust thing as he chases me around asking for a kiss. I, of course, recoil in horror...which seems to encourage him in chasing me down. On the Sunday we went to Aunt Stephanie's ward, Mike put his Bubba Teeth back in his mouth as we were walking to our cars, after church. I began to do a little channeling of my own, and tried to whack him with my purse like a stereotypical old lady. He's lucky we weren't at our home ward because I always seem to have at least 3 bags over my shoulder on any given Sunday. Usually, I am like a pack mule at church with all kinds of bags and stuff to carry-Yeah, I could have whacked him with multiple bags had we been at home. I was tempted to throw my scriptures at him at Stephanie's ward but, I decided that wouldn't be a good example to my boys.



So now.....feast your eyes on the visual splendor that are...............Bubba Teeth...

Now, I feel a little nauseated...even though I think my kids and husband are adorable...normally.

Yeah, uh huh... thanks again, Aunt Stephanie~ and, as mentioned in the previous post, when I say, "thanks" I mean, "grrrrrrrr"...

December 2006 (Evan 9 years and 5 months old, Adam 6 years and 5 months old and Brian 3 years and 7 months old)

Happy New Year!! (I'm already behind.....)

Happy New Year !!! *sigh* I am already feeling a bit behind...

This post will be devoted to some of the things I have meant to blog about but, haven't yet.

Hey, uh Mom...remember when you asked me to post some pictures of the boys' Halloween costumes so you could see them? Well, not to worry...here they are! (and not a moment too, soon, right?)

What's this? Brian opted to be Batman for Halloween? He almost suffered heart failure when he laid eyes on this costume. His little friend, Brooklyn, from church, was Dora the Explorer for Halloween, and I was trying everything within my power, to convince Brian to be Diego to her Dora. Imagine the photo ops...with his dark hair he actually looks like Diego! Nothing doing. It was ridiculous of me to suggest otherwise.

Hmmmph! I thought it was a lovely idea.

Ahhhh, Adam as Anakin Skywalker. Adam was so excited to be Anakin. He wasn't excited to wear the braid at first, though. We kept trying to convince him that it would be the perfect finishing touch to his costume. We put band-aids on his neck and then adhered the braid to the band-aids with Gorilla Tape (a super strong version of duct tape). The braid stayed on nicely and was as easy to remove as taking a band-aid off. When we spiked his hair, and added the braid the whole look came together, and he wasn't nervous about wearing a braid anymore. I have to chuckle about the fact that we put the braid on the wrong side of his head. Why I didn't google a picture of "Young Anakin Skywalker" prior to the braid being attached is beyond me. I can't really pride myself on my attention to detail, most days.

Yeah, his braid is on the opposite side of Adam's . Oh well, it was an honest mistake.

This is probably a boring story but...please, indulge me. One summer, when I was at Girls' Camp, as a 14 year old, one of our craft projects was to make a little octopus. I, of course, arrived late to the craft pavilion and by the time I got there, all of the pretty yarn colors were long gone. My only choice for my little octopus was this kind of green-ish, brown-ish polyester-ish yarn. I made my little octopus, and I kind of liked her because...she was a bit of a misfit and seemed to encompass how I was feeling about myself at the time.

Well...when it was time to find a braid for Adam's costume, my little octopus bravely donated one of her legs. I just laughed because, I remembered how irritated I was those years ago, when I realized my octopus was going to be such an ugly color. I really got a kick out of the fact that my little misfit octopus could help my Adam, years later. Okay...this is sounding bizarre...enough nostalgia...Ptooey, ptooey...corny memories.

Here she is...minus one leg

Evan chose to be a football player this year and I was thrilled. Talk about cost effective. This was Evan's first year playing football, ( I need to dedicate an entire post to that little adventure) and I loved that we didn't have to spend any money on a Halloween costume, since football proved to have a lot of hidden expenses. His helmet served as the ultimate accessory, because he used it to gather candy in. Word on the street (well, at the Trunk or Treat at church, that is ) was that some of the girls at church said Evan looked handsome in his football uniform. I will now declare the following decree concerning whether Evan is handsome, or not: Evan...stay away from girls. As far as you are concerned...girls are trouble. I would say girls are evil but, that might be a little strong...so, I will say that you should avoid girls at all costs...until after your mission...at which time you are free to date and marry any girl of your choosing, as long as you can take her to the temple and as long as she feels that her future mother-in-law is fabulous. I hope to not have to re-visit this subject until you are 21. End of Decree.

As far as this fly-fisherman with "Bubba" teeth in, is concerned, I just have to say, "Back off, Ladies! This guy is all mine!" I think I need to dedicate and entire post to the beauty of living in a house full of men that each, have their own set of Bubba Teeth. Thanks, Aunt Stephanie for the gifts...and when I say, "thanks" I mean, "Grrrrrrrrrrr".

I went as Catwoman to compliment Brian's Batman. My costume consisted of a headband with ears and eyeliner whiskers drawn on my face. I chose not to wear the traditional Catwoman bodysuit for safety reasons. Namely, the safety of others, as they might have gone blind from scratching their eyes out after beholding such a sight.

Okay, Halloween 2007 documented...*phew*, only about 28 more things to catch up on...stay tuned....