I Love a Man In Uniform (Even if I'm Bitter)

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The marching band from the high school that Evan attends here in Georgia was invited to march in the Philadelphia Parade on Thanksgiving Day. 

 I have decided not to post about our disappointment that the Lakeside High School Marching Band was never televised...because posting about such a huge disappointment would make me sound bitter. So, I will not mention anywhere in this post that the first problem with watching the nationally televised parade arose when our local ABC affiliate was unable to get the parade feed from the main ABC network. No sirree-bob. I will not include my dismay over the fact that a local band was given the honor of marching in a, "by invitation only" parade all the way in Philadelphia and was not FEATURED by our local ABC stations. That's right...I would never lament publicly over something like that...I mean, posting about it would suggest that I have a hard time letting disappointments go...and we all know that I never have a hard time letting disappointments go...*cough*

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                                                                                                                           Evan

 This picture was taken at one of the many stops along the parade route. There were evidently frequent stops due to station breaks for the television networks to show commercials and for some of the parade participants to perform at a stand still (there were singers, dancers, etc.) in the televised, "stage" area. Evan said his lips were killing him by the end of the day.

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                                                                                                       Evan

Additionally, I will not mention anywhere in this post the second, huge disappointment that prevented us from watching the nationally televised parade came when we discovered that, even though, we were unable to watch the parade on t.v. as originally thought, at least we could see the parade streaming live online...

...but don't worry...I would NEVER post about the fact that after watching the parade for 3 and a half hours (that I will never get back) Lakeside was never televised because, evidently, the parade administrators cut to an unscheduled commercial break just as Lakeside entered the televised parade area.

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                           Evan

So, don't worry...since I am always, sweetness and light and never ever bitter *ahem*...I will just post how grateful I am that Evan got to participate in such an amazing parade at the tender age of 15.

...and I do love a man in uniform, don't you?



Fortunately, Adam Has Always Been Stellar at Taking Correction

John attended Adam's vision checkup with me last week and was very *ahem* helpful. Adam's opthamologist has an awesome, fancy schmancy computer screen (I had never seen one like this before we began seeing this particular eye doctor) that he tests his patient's vision with by using a remote control to display one letter at a time onscreen. His exam starts with the letters onscreen shown in a very large font and then progressively makes the letters smaller and smaller to thoroughly test his patient's vision.

I had to tell John to, "Give Adam a turn...let him say the letters first." because John was excitedly calling out the letters he saw onscreen before Adam could answer. The doctor made the letters progressively smaller and when he put a small F onscreen the conversation went a little something like this...

The doctor displays a small letter F.

Adam: "Uhhhh...P...."

John: (with concern/ disgust in in voice) "Das NOT a P.....Das a F!!" (It was one of those, "you had to be there moments"...but John's reaction totally smacked of him thinking, "I'm not gonna let Adam have his turn first if he's gonna get it WRONG.)

Adam: (chuckling) "Oh, did I get it wrong?"

Dr. Morgan: (also laughing) "Just keep going Adam, and tell me what you see..." (He continues the test.)

John: (Obviously unwilling to let such a blaring mistake go.) "Mom, dat was a F."

Me: (whispering in John's ear) "Shhhhhh...I know...it was an F, you're right."

John: (LOUDLY) "ADIN (how John pronounces Adam's name), Dat was a F!"

Adam: "Okay, John...thank you."

Bless Adam's cotton socks. He's always such a good sport. Nothing like having to take correction...during an eye exam...from a three year old...who refuses to be silenced until he has made his point clear. (I count myself lucky that John finally let it go, because it was looking like he was going to announce to all of the people in the waiting room that, "Dat was a F" as we left the building.)

Tell Me the Truth. Is My Halloween Costume Too Revealing?

I just want to make sure my costume isn't crossing the line of appropriateness by revealing too much. Scroll down and let me know if I have crossed the line...

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Lauren, Halloween 2012, "A Dental Patient"

Yeah, I think my dental patient costume may be too revealing. I mean, you can even see my back teeth.

Spooky Version

And *gasp* this costume version is SEE-THROUGH. Scandalous

I am sorry if I have assaulted your eyes with my revealing costume. Please forgive me.

(and special thanks to Rogers & Andrews Orthodontics for making all of my Halloween costume dreams come true ☺)

Happy Halloween, Everybody!

What is it the Kids Say These Days? "Epic Fail" ?

We have a 15 year old in the process of learning to drive. I know, I find it shocking as well.

Learning to back out of the carport proved to be a lot trickier than one may suspect. I'm not sure why my saying loudly, "Evan, you are going to hit the beam!"...(then louder)..."STOP!" (Then at the top of my lungs) "EVAN, STOPPPP!!!!" didn't register in his mind more quickly...but...alas, contact with one of the beams that holds up the carport was made, and the front, right light of Ye Olde Minivan popped off cleanly. It almost looked like you could simply pop the light back in place, but the part of the back of the light that actually keeps it in place with a very large screw was broken beyond repair.

Brian pointing out Evan's little accident.

The good news is, now we get to tease Evan mercilessly about his little mistake. You see, Evan is a wonderful young man (and I really mean that ). We are so grateful for his dedication to the gospel, his desire to make good grades, and overall, be a positive and helpful young man. However, he likes to tease his siblings and parents with great (and, at times, unbelievably annoying) vigor. It isn't rare that I will have to say something along the lines of, "Evan...you are 15...he is 3...leave him ALONE." because Evan will try to tickle, tease, or wrestle John when the poor child is trying to mind his own business and play quietly.

So, now, with the careless turn of the steering wheel of Ye Olde Minivan, the tables have turned a bit and we can good natured-ly (is that a word?) torture our firstborn with conversations that go a little something like this:

Mike: (after hearing a story on the news about some local teenagers that got into mischief after sneaking out of their homes) "I hope our kids never do something like that."

Lauren: (knowing that Evan was listening to the conversation) "Well, we know Evan will never sneak out of the house."

Mike: "How?"

Lauren: "Because when he tries to exit the driveway he will hit the house and alert of us his attempted departure!!"

Mike and Lauren: Riotous, obnoxious, laughter

Mike: "Good one, Mama Bear." (holding up his hand for a high five)

Lauren: "Ahhhh, yeah...up top, baby! (as I slap his awaiting a high five hand)

Evan: "I am never gonna live this down, am I?"

Mike: "Um, yeah...NO. No, you aren't."

Don't you love it when something good comes out of something not so good? Me too.

I'm sorry. I Simply Had To. It Spoke to Me.

I particularly like the line where she raps, "Now I accessorize with food that's already been chewed." It reminded me of when I called Mike at work to report that I looked like I had just gotten a spray tan because Little John had just spit a mouth full of squash all over me. We are talking cheeks FULL of squash.

I also enjoyed it when she made the coupons rain in slow motion like they were, "Dollah bills, y'all."

Sometimes it's just nice to see the mundane immortalized in a clever rap, ya know? Fo Rizzle, Fo Sho.

Many, Many Congrats!!

After a long, arduous, and at times, heart breaking (because of the indescribable sting of a birth mother changing her mind the week before the baby was born) wait, our dear friends Jaime and Jack (whose picture has been featured on my sidebar for several years) welcomed little Sterling Emma into their family through adoption. We are so thrilled for you!! I get teary whenever I see pictures of your sweet baby girl. Many, many, many congrats to your family!

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Love Always,

The Marshman Family

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GORGEOUS photography by Heather at http://13dreamsphotography.blogspot.com/ Heather, I must say, you do incredible work ☺.

There's a Reason Why I Haven't Been Posting on My Blog

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You see...I've been having computer problems. Well, technically...nothing is technically wrong with my computer...the problem is, with the craziness of summer, and then school starting, I have had problems clearing my head well enough to sit down and write a coherent post on the computer. Thus, "computer problems". I told my friend Jaime about my, "computer problems" and she said something along the lines of, "That sounds more like a case of User Error to me."
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I've tried to use this type of excuse before. I remember telling friends once that the reason I was late to arrive at a destination was because I had experienced, "car trouble". I then had to admit that, well, there was nothing mechanically wrong with my vehicle...I just had trouble getting into the car early enough to arrive to our rendezvous spot on time. See? Car trouble.
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Okay, random, excuse making portion of the post is now concluded...
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On to more recent happenings...
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As you may know, last Thursday was the official beginning of the 2012-2013 college football season. If you didn't know that, it is probably because you don't live with the devastatingly handsome man pictured below. When he came out of our bedroom dressed with his Virginia Tech Hokie suspenders over his scrubs I was a little shocked. I remember saying something like, "Oh, my. Fannnncy. And just what is the occasion?" I was then loudly and vigorously informed that it is time, once again for HOKIE FOOTBALL!!!
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I pondered asking the man why he was wearing his suspenders on opening day...rather than saving them for the following Monday (Labor Day) when the Hokies actually played their first game of the season...but I knew his enthusiasm was not to be stifled.


So, instead of mocking his new look, I made him pose for pictures. He happily obliged and made the VT sign with his fingers. (Pictured above). See the V and the T?
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...and the mascot symbol (Pictured below.) The Hokie mascot is a turkey. Can you see the turkey he is making? Majestic, isn't it? We Hokies actually prefer to be referred to as, "Fighting Gobblers." rather than, "Turkeys", though. Just so you are aware.
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So, that is small sampling of what we have been up to lately. Oh, and even though you know you are inexplicably attracted to the man in his suspenders, I must tell you in no uncertain terms, "Back off ladies. He's all mine."
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18 Years

We all know that I don't always make the best choices. I mean, I'm the kid of girl that considers Hostess Sno Balls a delicacy...

But, I definitely made the best decision of my life, 18 years ago, today.

Happy Anniversary, Babe. I love you.
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Pat Yourself on the Back

I know this picture was taken about two years ago...but it captures one of my happiest moments as a mother: Taking my little John (born 2 and a half months prematurely) swimming for the first time. (Not pictured is the little oxygen tank he was connected to, resting poolside.) It really is miraculous how healthy his lungs are now. Take my word for it...earlier today he was BELLOWING at me, "Mooooom, I ready to go to da YI-BRARE-EEEEE!!" What can I say? The little man loves story time at the library.

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My reason for posting today is this...
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Sometimes Mother's Day is really hard for moms. Like, really hard.
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I remember before I was even married sitting in Sacrament Meeting (our main worship service) hearing a mother that I admired speak on Mother's Day. In her talk she shared that her own mother despised coming to church on Mother's Day because she was sick of hearing about all of the, "perfect" mothers that could do amazing things like, "build a bicycle out of tin cans". I have to laugh remembering that church talk some 25 years later because the claim of perfect mothering including being able to do amazing things like, "build a bicycle out of tin cans" has stuck with me with perfect clarity.
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Some 25 years ago the young, single, then childless, Lauren thought she would never feel insecure about her mothering skills...
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But on Mother's Day...the Mother Guilt (definition: feeling guilty about being a less than perfect mother) always hits me hard. I know it shouldn't...but it does.
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After I got home from church yesterday I decided, "You know what? No more."
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I started to laugh (probably causing my dear husband to fear that I had finally lost it for good, as it appeared I was laughing at nothing) as I remembered a recent conversation with my oldest Evan. Evan likes to tease me (and by, "tease" I mean, "mock mercilessly") about the fact that my brain does not work mathematically. I'm serious. Something in my brain is broken...all of my children know that at about 4th grade they must seek help from their father if they need help with math homework. So...Evan was doing his typical, though good natured, teasing about my lacking math skills and then I said something along the lines of,
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"You know what boy? I may not be good at math...but mathematics is not my chosen field of expertise. Mothering is my chosen field of expertise, and while I am less than perfect, I had a great hand in producing you...who is excellent at math...so CLEARLY I am doing something right in my chosen field of expertise...so, you're welcome.:
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Evan looked at me blankly and then...*blink*...*blink* said, "That was pretty good, Mom."
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So...you know what? We may be less than perfect...but our families have our best efforts...if you think you aren't a good mom, take a look at your awesome kids...and I give you licence (because I am the boss of this here blog) to pat yourselves on the back.
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Go on Sista' Friends...you are doing a good job. You are doing hard things. Your Heavenly Father loves you and applauds your efforts... so, go on, pat away.
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Incidents Like This Confirm my Suspiscions that I am Losing It

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Safe and sound at home...well, as safe as he can be in my care, I guess...

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Wednesday nights are when my older boys have Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts/ Young Men (religious instruction as well as activities for boys ages 12-18) at church. Many Wednesday nights I end up chatting with other moms while we wait for our older kids to be finished with activities. Our time chatting has turned into an informal playdate in the gymnasium of the church (unless the older kids are using it) where we all let our younger children play together. Last Wednesday night was one such impromptu playdate in the church gym.
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The moms help each other by keeping track of one another's kids, especially because several weeks ago a little girl was almost successful in slipping outside while her mom was busy tending to another one of her small children.
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Last Wednesday there was a lot of traffic in and out of the gymnasium and I looked around and did not see my son John (age 2) anywhere. I was afraid that he had managed to push the glass door that led to the parking lot outside open and was outside by himself (at 8:00 at night), because the last time I remembered seeing him, he was playing with a ball by the door. I asked, perhaps somewhat frantically, "Has anyone seen John?!"
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My friend Sheron replied dryly..."Uh...well, yeah...he's sitting in your lap."
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Oh. Well, then.
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I laughed and quipped something along the lines of, "Oh, well, naturally...I was just making sure you knew where he was...you know...for safety reasons..."
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We all got a good chuckle about what a blithering idiot I am how sometimes funny things like that happen. My friend Dana said, "Don't worry Lauren...I was on the phone with my sister the other day as I was trying to leave my house. I told her, 'I'm almost ready to leave...but I can't find my phone anywhere...' ." She went on to say that her sister reminded her that she was on the phone...that's why she couldn't find the phone on the kitchen counter.
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So, I guess I don't need to put a tracking device on John...I just need some sort of tracking device on my brain. 'Cause it definitely left the building last Wednesday night.
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Mean People are the Pits

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This picture has nothing to do with the post...but it makes me laugh...and I deserve a good laugh because people are so flippin' mean. I am particularly fond of the, "soul patches" that they used my mascara (without asking, does that surprise you?) to create...I also enjoy the fact that Brian is trying to look all, "street" while wearing his mother's sunglasses....and while everyone is trying their hardest to display their best, "Gangsta" face, Little John apparently didn't get the memo and is smiling sweetly. Yeah, they are a bunch of Thugs, indeed.

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So, let's talk...
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Okay, actually...by, "talk" I mean...I want to vent...and I want you to listen...but...you can actually click out of here and I would never know...but...I'm going to pretend that you are patting me on the back and listening to my tiresome complaints...

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The other day I was driving, and as I was preparing to pull into traffic I did the unthinkable...I hesitated because even though it was a double lane I was pulling out onto...there was a car coming in the far left lane...Now, technically, I could have pulled into the right lane at the same exact time the car zoomed by on my left...but, for some reason I was uneasy so I made the decision to wait until both lanes were clear...

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This decision was apparently unacceptable to the gentleman behind me because he laid on his horn...and continued to blare the horn as he pulled around me and cut in front of me and pulled onto the busy double lane road. (Other cars were coming by the time he pulled around me...but he barreled out anyway.)

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I finally pulled out into traffic and ended up behind the horn blaring gentleman. (I use the term, "gentleman" loosely in this particular situation.) As I followed behind him I burst into tears. I'm not sure why it upset me so...I mean...mean people abound in the land...but, for some reason, I found myself really emotional over someone going out of their way to be deliberately mean...because I made them wait and unthinkable five seconds until the car in the far left lane had zoomed past me.

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As I followed Mean Guy...who had to stop at the red traffic light (thus proving how much he had actually gained time wise by going around me...gee...he was a whole car's length ahead. Well done.) I chided myself for getting upset over something so minor. I mean...in a world with crime, heartache, violence, starvation, poverty, etc. if one idiot decides to be impatient and mean it's really no great shakes, right? I mean, I have an understanding that if someone being mean to me is the worst thing that happens to me all day, well then, I lead a pretty blessed existence, right?

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I followed behind and mentally aggrandized my possible responses...I could pull around him and shoot him the stink eye...that would definitely teach him a lesson, right? Or, I could follow him home and then, cloaked in the darkness of night, I could return and egg his pick up truck...or house...

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I kind of couldn't believe how upset I let him make me...so I decided that I would work on forgetting all about him...

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The whole stupid...oh...I don't let my kids say, "stupid"...so I guess I shouldn't...Anyway, as I was saying...the whole stupid situation reminded me of another recent occurrence in my charmed existence. I was driving in an unfamiliar parking lot and I made the unforgivable mistake of driving the wrong way down an aisle. The arrows indicating which direction that the aisles should be driven down were faded and unreadable so it wasn't until after that I headed the wrong way down, said aisle, that I noticed my mistake. (I could tell by the way the parking spaces were slanted that I had chosen incorrectly.) A young man driving down the aisle correctly was, apparently, incredibly inconvenienced because my facing the wrong way down the aisle caused us to have to pass each other extremely slowly because of the narrowness of the lane, that was evidently not created for two cars to pass each other facing opposite directions. The young man who had to slow down because of my error leaned out of his window and was sure to let me know that I had made a grave error by bellowing at me that I was a, "STUPID BI*CH!!"

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Well, then.

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Really, sir...it was an honest mistake...

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...A, "BI*CH"? Really? I mean not just a garden variety, "BI*CH" but, a, "STUPID BI*CH" at that?

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...Sir, I really don't think the situation was that serious...I don't think calling me a crude name like that was warranted...

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...but, I chose to respectfully disagree that day, and do my best to correct the situation by skipping an aisle and make sure that I chose the correct direction as I selected my parking space. I really am sorry for any any inconvenience I caused that nice young man that day.

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...I use the phrasing, "nice young man" loosely, however.

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Then, Last Friday, after I dropped Evan off at Early Morning Seminary, I had a huge Escalade tailgating me. When I turned onto a particular road I had to make an immediate right (It's not my fault that my particular destination forced me to make an immediate right after turning left onto a main road) and the Escalade nearly rear ended me...

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The driver laid on the horn like it was my fault that she was tailgating me...

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I yelled out loud, (you know...because, clearly, she could hear me...and even see me in the darkness at that time in the morning.) "Honey, if you'd of hit me, it would have been YOUR fault."

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Then I found myself fantasizing about her actually hitting me...

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"Please, Lamb chop...I should be so lucky...then you could pay to replace the beater of a car that I was driving...the beater of a car that we had to buy because poor Mike was T-boned 4 years ago by an irresponsible driver, while he had young men from church in the car with him...a car that is far less in value than Mike's Jeep Cherokee that was totaled by the other driver...but the insurance would only pay for a car far less in value...Yes, sweetness...go ahead and hit me because you were following too closely...at 6:15 in the freakin' morning...and then act like I was the one that had caused the accident...and then listen to the officer explain to you as he writes you a ticket why you were in the wrong..."

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I wish she'd of hit me...like I said...I should have been so lucky...

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So, there you have it...and I can't even think of a way to end this post...I am basically feeling sorry for myself...but...I do feel better, now...so...thanks for letting me vent.

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...as you were...carry on...

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Sometimes Things Don't Turn Out the Way You Envisioned

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Yes, I know Halloween was months and months ago... please don't confuse me with the facts...

Adam (seen here before the "Trunk or Treat" at church) wanted to be Aragon from The Lord of the Rings for Halloween. Putting together a costume that would be recognizable proved to be a lot more difficult than I had hoped. I told my sister Stephanie in dismay when she asked over the phone what each of the boys were going to be for Halloween, "Uh...Adam kind of looks like a cross between Jesus...or better yet, John the Baptist* and Peter Pan in his costume." (I think Adam was trying to recapture the glory of his Legolas (also from The Lord of the Rings) costume from years past.
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When Mike saw Adam in full costume he whispered to me, "I can't remember the name of the movie...but he looks more like that guy that kept saying, 'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' than Aragon."
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My mouth fell open as I looked over at Adam (who was, incidentally, preparing to run Brian through with his plastic sword) and I whispered back to Mike in horror, "Oh, no...the Princess Bride...you're right...he looks exactly like Inigo Montoya...NOT Aragon."
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You know...sometimes...despite all of your best efforts...you envision yourself looking like this:


but...you really turn out looking a little more like this:

Well...at least nobody asked him if he was Inigo Montoya...

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...of course...nobody asked him if he was Aragon, either...

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All night he kept getting asked if he was supposed to be Robin Hood...

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...oh, for pity's sake. Next year I am going to have to outsource to make proper looking Halloween costumes.

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* I thought he looked kind of like John the Baptist because I remembered hearing Bible stories of how John the Baptist wore a leather belt and camel hair. (Matthew 3:4) But please...don't tell Adam that I thought he looked like anyone other than Aragon.

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We Do Not Play Disc Golf in the Nude

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John just walked into the family room wearing nothing but a smile...

...and these rain boots...

(I had to crop out part of the picture...you know...to maintain the decorum of the blog. Why he took off all of the clothes he was wearing remains a mystery.)

I noticed immediately that he had two disc golf discs (basically glorified frisbees) tucked under his little arm.

...Oh, but don't call disc golf discs, "frisbees" around my older children because there is a high likelihood that you will be corrected.

When John found me he announced, "READY!!!" to which I responded somewhat hesitantly, "Oh, uh, well, I see...and just what are you ready to do?"

He replied "Ina go ow-sigh...'tay Mommy, peaaaaaaase?...Ina discs..."

Allow me to provide a rough translation..."I want to go outside...Okay, Mommy? Please? I want to play with the disc golf discs."

(It is interesting to note that he made sure he had his boots on before asking to go outside, because he knows that he needs shoes on to go outside. Also of note...he was sure to add his repeatedly well received, "peaaaaaaase" when he made his request to go outside. He knows I am basically powerless to resist him when he concludes a request with that darling little, "please.")

I gave Mike a brand new disc golf, "putter" for Christmas and John was OBSESSED with it. He carried it around for days after Christmas and even slept with it several times. If he didn't have it when he woke up in the morning he'd ask, "Wassa disc? Ina disc."

Some of the Christmas money John got from Grandparents went to buying him his very own RED (Mike's putter is red) disc golf disc. (We did try to hand give him a regular frisbee at one point. Nothin' doin'.)

I am pleased to report that John's head did not explode from excitement when Mike handed him his very own, RED, disc golf disc. He spent yesterday morning playing 9 holes of official disc golf with Mike and the boys.

I did, however, inform John just a little while ago, that disc golf is not a pants optional sport...and that he would need to get dressed if he wanted me to take him outside.

Boy Howdy, it's gonna be a great year. I can just feel it.
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