It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

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Well...according to Mike, anyway...

That's right folks...It's Hokie Football Time.

As many of you know...we are Georgians by circumstance, and Virginians by CHOICE.

We bought new shirts to show our support of the Virginia Tech Hokies. We like this particular shirt design because it names the entire EASTERN SEABOARD as Hokie Country.

That's right all you Georgians...especially you young ones that mock my children and talk up your Georgia Bulldogs. Georgia is Hokie Country, too. We don't need it pointed out that Georgia happens to be ranked #1 in the country, right now. Please, don't try to confuse, we Hokies, with the facts.

Feast your eyes on this....that's right...The entire eastern seaboard.

Fear this kind of dedication...

Oh...and not to brag...but we are related to, Uncle Nick Marshman (Mike's cousin) that is taking the field as a starter for the Hokies.

It's gonna be a great year...I can just feel it!

We will be headed out to see the game tomorrow in Charlotte, NC. If I didn't know better, I'd think they moved the game closer to Georgia just for us. Let's Go! HOKIES!

How My Husband Cheered Me Up When I Was Sobbing

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I figured since we were on the subject in my last post about my sobbing I would share this little story.



Several weeks ago, I had a really tough Sunday for a seeming myriad of reasons. I am too emotionally scarred to share all of the details...heh, heh, heh, just kidding...but that did sound super dramatic, did it not? It was just one of those patience trying days for reasons like:

• Mike had to be gone for early morning meetings and the boys were...shall we say...quarrelsome...while dressing and preparing for church. I prefer the "Laying on of Hands" to be performed by worthy priesthood holders...my boys were practicing their own special brand of laying on of hands...on one another...violently...and there was nothing spiritual about it.




• My boys displayed some...how should I put this?..."spirited" Sacrament Meeting Behavior, and being that I had already reached max point before even entering the church building I was in no mood to deal with it.




• I started feeling some extreme Mother Guilt for my lack of patience with, said children because, in truth, they are really great little guys.




• I started feeling like an unsupportive wife for dreading the fact that I knew Mike would have meetings after church. I feel a lot of guilt about whether or not I am supportive as I should be. I could be an early pioneer walking across the plains in freezing temperatures. I don't even have to walk to church...I don't know what I am complaining about, sometimes.

When we arrived home from church I started all of the dinner preparations and encouraged (I use the term "encouraged", loosely) the boys to stop mauling each other with their accumulated energy from the three hours of church.

That particular Sunday was Evan's actual birthday and even though we had a party for him with friends and cupcakes at the YMCA pool the day before, I still hadn't made his birthday cake. Mike got home and went back to change out of his suit about the time I began to make the cake. All three boys plead with me to help and because of the aforementioned, Mother Guilt, I decided that I would not fail my sons by just doing it myself, even though that was my heart's greatest desire at that point. Mistake. When it was Brian's turn to man the hand mixer he dropped it in the bowl splattering frosting at a high speed everywhere and getting frosting in the vents of the mixer. The stream of frosting splattered me all over the neck and under my ears and showered Adam's head. I shrieked, and Brian took off running as I screamed after him in a shrill voice with tears forming, "It's okay, Brian!! It was just an accident!! It's Okay!!"

That's when the unwanted deluge of tears began.

I ran in the laundry room to try to calm myself but started sobbing instead. I called out to Brian, through sobs, "It really is okay, Brian...Mommy is just tired!! You didn't do anything wrong!!" The more I cried the madder I got at myself and the harder I cried. I couldn't seem to get myself under control...and then....I heard...

Riotous Laughter?

Mike had heard the shrieks and sobs and appeared with the dreaded Bubba Teeth in his mouth. He knows how much I despise the rubber, grotesque Bubba teeth...he was licking his lips and muttering how he wanted a, "kissy kiss". Normally, I try to escape, but I was so upset that I grabbed him and hugged him. Seeing how upset I was, he removed his Bubba Teeth and just hugged me and let me cry it out. I think the thing that upset me the most was the fact that I had let myself get so upset. Does that make sense? His hug helped me stop sobbing and had a wonderful calming effect. I don't think Mike expected me to be so upset that I would hug him with his Bubba Teeth intact.

Not only was Mike wearing the dreaded Bubba Teeth but, he was also dressed in a very special way in hopes of cheering me up. After I had calmed down, I begged to take a picture of him with his bubba teeth and his specially fashioned shirt. He refused and said that he didn't want to be objectified and exploited.

So...I, of course, exploited and objectified my very own children to show you how Mike was dressed.

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I think you can see why it made me stop crying...and laugh...in spite of myself.

Brian (5 years and 3 months old), Adam (8 years and 1 month old), Evan (11 years and 1 month old).

Pack Mules

It never ceases to amaze me how much my children look like little pack mules on the first day of school. The supply list required by each child seems to grow every year. I have a friend that said wisely on her blog, "Forget Saving For College...I'm too busy affording elementary school!", in response to all of the supplies her children needed. Today was no exception. As I was taking pictures before everyone left, I became concerned that this could be the year that someone actually tips over, or falls backward and lands in a crumpled heap while trying to board the bus.

Sunday night it hit me. I have a middle schooler...and my baby is going to kindergarten. Without warning, I burst into tears as I was placing all of the paperwork in backpacks, (and Brian's bag) that parents have to fill out each school year. It wasn't a feminine, or genteel cry where I dabbed tears and thoughtfully pontificated on the changes that were going to take place the very next day...we are talking gulping sobs here, friends.

Poor Mike. I hugged him and sobbed...and he just looked at me lovingly and let me vent and sputter. My diatribe included sobs about being afraid that Evan may not be able to get his locker open...and how I couldn't believe that I was putting my 25th percentile height and weight kindergartner on a huge yellow monstrosity because he so desperately wanted to ride the school bus with his big brother Adam. My heart ached that Adam might be feeling like the, "quintessential middle child" because this wasn't a "banner" year for him and I feared that he wasn't getting a lot of attention for starting kindergarten, like Brian or middle school, like Evan. I lamented the fact that if everything had truly been going according to my plans, I would have a 2 year old, or at least a one year old child (by now), at home with me still. Then, I willed myself to stop by stifling my sniffles, blowing my nose and exclaiming..."Okay, crisis over." Mike looked at me and asked, "Okay? You're okay, now? You're good...are you sure? Do you want to say anything else?" The outburst seemed to leave as quickly as it came and I went on lining up backpacks and then preparing for bed. Mike wins the prize for having the most confusing and perplexing wife ever, huh? Actually, I prefer to think of myself as intriguing and mysterious.



First born pack mule, Evan, had to carry an extra bag with him because he had so many supplies and large books. We made him his own master list of all of his important information (locker number and combination, schedule, and new bus number) all on the same sheet, and stapled a map of the school to it. Mike and I got a good chuckle at all of the long faces on Evan's middle school bus. I told Mike, "Uh...those middle schoolers looked like they were being carted off to some sort of a prison camp."


Second born pack mule, Adam, chose this shirt himself, because he made it at Cub Scout Day Camp over the summer. I think the tie die is so striking...especially when offset by the black and white camouflage backpack, don't you? Adam began wearing eyeglasses this summer and was excited and a little bit nervous to wear them to school the first day. I have told him repeatedly that I think he looks very handsome in his new glasses but, I fear he only thinks I am saying that because I love and adore him...and because...I'm the mom.

Kindergartners at the elementary school don't get to have backpacks because the school feels that the cubbies in the kindergarten rooms are too small for them. The kindergartners have to buy these standard issue bags to carry all of their supplies. *Sigh*...look at the little name tag his teacher wanted him to wear on the first day. When we broke the news to Brian that he wouldn't get to carry his Batman backpack to kindergarten I could see the wheels turning in his mind. After some thought he said. "Mom...I can make my Batman backpack fit...so, I should just take it." Sorry, buddy, your school is very clear on this point. I did get a chuckle out of picturing you cramming your backpack into your cubby with all of your strength, though...and honestly...I had no doubt you could, "make it fit".

I like Adam and Brian's bus driver, Mr. Turman, for many reasons but, primary among them is that I love the fact that he separates all of the kids on the bus by age. I feel more secure knowing Brian is up front with all of the little kindergartners. Today when he boarded, Mr. Turman yelled out to me, over the rumble of the bus, thoughtfully, "How are you doing?" I yelled back, "My baby is on a bus!!" He smiled and nodded knowingly saying, "I know...I know." He has seen Brian for the last 2 years waiting with us in the driveway to watch Evan and Adam board. Perhaps, it seemed strange to both of us, that this year Brian is old enough to climb aboard. As the bus pulled away I started to cry, though softly this time, and told Mike, "I couldn't even see Brian's little head through the bus window because, *sniffle* he is so small."

So...here's to a new year...with lots of school supplies and adventures. I think my pack mules are pretty amazing little men.