Monday, December 28, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Santa 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Merry Christmas 2009!


and got to do another solo trip to Utah and California to be with cousins






Luke has finally learned to say a few sentences, started school, taught himself how to somersault and knows how to work the microwave, car remote, camera and most iPhone apps with Jelly Car and Lightsaber being his favorites.



(Liz even snuck in a run once when Wesley begged so Evan relinquished his skis, boots and coat and off we went!)

Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sophia is 8 TODAY!
Eight is one of those milestones. I vividly remember this day, eight years ago today! It was a balmy NYC day. Fall hadn't yet touched the city and the night before, I went to bed not feeling any different than the previous 9 months, which is not encouraging being almost 2 weeks overdue. I woke up an hour after I had retired to bed to a warm puddle of water! Yay, that moment you dream about had arrived!!! The first sign of labor! Evan and I were so anxious for our long awaited bundle of joy to come after so many heartaches and emotional rollercoaster rides with trying to maintain a pregnancy. As you can imagine, we were delighted to receive a beautiful perfect baby girl just 12 hours later who immediately had it all together! She got with the program of our lifestyle and brought us so much joy and excitement to our days. She was a people person right off the bat and she ruined it for the next siblings with her impeccable sleeping habits.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Sticker Car AGAIN...
Here is a little project I was asked to do this week and wanted to share on my blog. Literally, Drew, the owner of TrashTalkMedia, asked me if I wouldn't mind being interviewed for a story FOX5NY was doing on his company and I agreed thinking it would be a quick little blurb soundbite. When I saw the result today that was broadcasted, I was surprised that the story was focused mostly on me and my experience with a little bit of Drew and his company.
Click here to see the piece. (I can't embed it properly for now.)
If you're interested in doing this to your car, you can register here at FreeCarMedia.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
This blog has flatlined.....
...is there any hope of breathing new life into it? There is so much great content, but the creator is spent. HELP!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Here's a preview...
...of our shoot with Blue Lily Photography last month.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Sophia's Piano Recital 2009


Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Luke is 2!

"Hey, it's my birthday, so I'm entitled!" Could you punish a cute mug like this anyway?!



Sunday, May 31, 2009
13 Years...
Can it be this was us 13 years ago?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Blue Lily is COMING! Anyone want a session?!

Blue Lily is an awesome viral Photographer! I say viral because her business has become so well known and exploded all over the blogger world. I don't have to say much because her work screams for itself. She is simply amazing and creative and humble and fun and she loves me, so of course I think she ROCKS!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day to my MOMMY by Sophia
Happy Mother's Day! My mom is the best mom this year, because she got the award to be the Mother Of The Year! Well not really, that's just a joke. Someone sent a video to my mom.(I don't know why?) Anyway, my name is Sophia Smith, I am 7, turning 8 in September. I know my mom is one of the best moms in the whole entire world. My mom is pretty and nice. She is tall and has three kids.(I'm one of them.) My mom's name is Liz Smith. Her husband's name,(My dad's name) is Evan Smith. That's my part of my mom's blog.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Happy Birthday to ME!
A picture says a thousand words and I think this one pretty much sums me up right now!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Getting Into Gear

(post by Evan)
I bought a MINI Cooper for commuting purposes a little over a year ago. It’s a fun little car and when last year’s gas crunch hit I was feeling pretty smug when I was pulling off 45 miles per gallon per tank of gas. While it has its quirks, which I’m told are due to the fact that it’s British, I like my car a lot. One quirk, though, nearly got the best of me.
The Cooper is actually classified as a sports car. It has a low center of gravity and corners extremely well. Being such a light (in weight) car, it doesn’t take much engine to propel it at a good clip. What completes the “sport” part is the inclusion of a manual transmission. I think it really connects the driver to the vehicle. I also think it a shame to see a nice sports car without one.
While generally a conservative driver, there are times where I like to take advantage the sportiness and channel my inner Speed Racer. There’s a portion of my evening commute in the Bronx where the two-lane road is narrow, has lots of hills, and includes lots of twisting turns. This provides plenty of opportunity to exercise the clutch and gear shift. The speed limit on the Henry Hudson Parkway is only 50 MPH, but feels fast due to the tightness of the road. Quick upshifts and downshifts and frequent lane changes are employed in an attempt to maintain velocity.
There is one point where the Henry Hudson Parkway has an exit for the Mosholu Parkway and simultaneously becomes the Saw Mill River Parkway where you leave the Bronx and enter Westchester county. The topography includes some nice hills at this point as well. Coupled with a nice curve in the road this all makes for a potential bottleneck for through traffic.
As I came down the hill in the right lane, the exit ramp to the Mosholu was backing up. I wanted to change lanes to avoid the slowdown, but was blocked by a car. I braked a little and allowed it to pass. By the time I got into the left lane, the uphill had started and since I had lost some speed, I did a quick downshift from 5th to 4th gear. Imagine my surprise when the gearshift seemed to pop out of its socket and rise up into my hand!
For a brief second I was at a complete loss for what to do. My mind quickly fast-forwarded to me being the one car that was forced to stop in the lane (since there is no shoulder at that point) and become the source of the evening’s traffic jam. I could picture all the angry drivers shaking their fists at me as they were forced to merge and go around. Then it was to the part where the tow truck had to come bail me out. Then it was thinking about the outrageous towing bill I was going to get slapped with. (It’s really amazing how much thought your brain is capable is just a short span of time!) Reality came back when I realized I had actually made it into 4th gear and was motoring just fine up the ramp.
My exit strategy became my next topic of thought. There were no exits until the Cross County Parkway. As long as I didn’t have to slow down (about a 50% probability based on previous traffic experience), I could make it easily to that ramp. There was still nowhere to really get off there either. It was mostly just exits to other parkways and highways. I realized that as long as traffic was good, I could make it to my normal exit which puts me in a slightly more quiet residential area. My hopes were raised slightly at this prospect.
As I cruised the highway I next contemplated what to do with the shifter in my hand. It was then I realized the true nature of my problem. The gearshift was actually still connected to the transmission. It was only the shifter knob that had come off into my hand. Since the base of the knob and actual lever are convered by a leather boot, it wasn’t entirely obvious to me at the moment. My worries fled as I managed to shove the knob back onto the lever. My cortisol levels returned to normal as I finished my commute.
I don’t know if a detachable gearshift knob truly counts as a quirk. It continued to pop off every so often during aggressive shifting. But the MINI dealership in Manhattan (a finely run organization, by the way) saw it as a defect. They happily replaced it as a warranty item during its first scheduled maintenance.
With my new shifter in place I continue to act out my Speed Racer fantasy every now and then.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
I turn my back for one MINUTE...
...and this is what happens!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Little Things...

...Sometimes, it's the little things that mean so much.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Good Bye, Liz
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I don't believe it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
LOVE Day!
Our Valentine's Day this year was packed with festivities.

They were each allowed to invite 3 friends.

We came up with a menu: Heart shaped pancakes, bacon (very heart healthy!) and strawberry smoothies.
We decorated,
they made puzzle crafts,

they played games and decorated cupcakes.

Afterall, it is the holiday of SUGAR!!!
It was fun having a party that was combined with the two age groups.
The older ones entertained the younger ones and the dynamic was fun! I think having a Valentine's party is a great idea. Spread the LOVE!
...Evan and I had been planning an adult party of sorts. Last year, we went to ICE for a 



Scatophobe's Nightmare

(Post by Evan)
(My dad once told that there are really only two kinds of people in the world, those who find farts funny and those who don’t. If you don’t fall into the former category, please discontinue reading now.)
I have been a scatophobe for a long time. Perhaps it was all those years being forced to pick up the dog crap in the back yard, but whatever the reasons, I had one of the scariest encounters of my life on a recent flight to Salt Lake City.
Delta Airlines had put us in a bad mood with some extremely poor customer service at the onset of our flight. Liz and I ended up traveling separately, with me taking the two older kids on one flight while she took Luke (plus all the baggage) on another. We were separately angry and annoyed at the situation and were already on edge. Please join me now as I’m about 2 hours into the flight:
Wesley is tired and falls asleep on my lap. The captain turns on the fasten seat belt light for turbulence. I check the security of his seatbelt and continue reading my magazine. About 20 minutes later he wakes up moaning, in a daze. I immediately recognize his cry as "I have to pee, but I'm not awake enough to do anything about it." The turbulence had subsided and the crew is up front serving drinks, so I decide it is safe to make a run to the lavatory.
Wesley drops his pants to begin his business, and immediately the turbulence comes back with a vengeance. Part of me feels bad for the boy. Another part finds it mildly comical to see someone in a dazed state trying to maintain balance with an unstable floor beneath him. I snap back to reality with his desperate cry of frustration, since he is unable to find relief. I watch him strain to perform the task and then look down with disbelief as a huge log emerges from his backside. I can only stare with a sense of revulsion as I watch it fall end over end, first colliding with the waistband of his pants, then falling squarely between my feet.
When I finally realize what has happened, Wesley is now awake enough to be full-on crying. Still stunned, I attempt to pick him up and sit him on the toilet. The only problem is now the turbulence is so strong that it makes it nearly impossible set him down. And to complicate matters the turd on the floor is now on the move, and I am doing a macabre dance trying to avoid contact with my shoes.
With a bawling Wesley situated on the commode, I realize I have the task of poop disposal. My whole body shudders. Due to the cramped quarters of the lavatory, I am unable to bend over to perform the necessary service. So I am forced to open the door, back out into the aisle, and get down on my hands and knees to wrangle the offensive deposit. I reach up for some toilet paper and find myself at the end of the roll with just a couple of squares, enough to take care of the task at hand, but not enough to finish up the whole ordeal.
I have one of those surreal feelings, almost like I am on a hidden camera show, as I’m down on all fours being buffeted by the bouncing plane trying to pin down a rolling bundle of fecal matter that is leaving “skid marks” all over the lavatory floor every time it skitters from one side to the other. I ultimately corner my quarry and grab it oh-so-carefully. My stomach does a couple of 360s while delivering it to the toilet.
Wesley is holding on for dear life as the plane shakes. I grab the last of the paper towels to clean the residue from the floor. It’s all I can do to keep from decorating the floor with the contents of my own stomach. After completing that task and being compelled to do a maintenance hand wash, I attend to my half-asleep frightened, confused son. But where to start?
I survey the situation and it’s worse than I thought. Wesley’s underwear is caked with poop. Wesley needs to be wiped. There is no toilet paper, no Kleenex, and no paper towels left. There is now a flight attendant banging on the door asking me to return to our seats. I spy the toilet seat liners and begin to use them clean the underwear. It’s hopeless, though. I figure removal is the only option. Luckily the pants themselves are poop free so at least I won’t have to haul him out naked through the aisle.
I realize Wesley has no shoes on. Standing on the floor won’t be an option. After cleaning his bum with a couple more seat liners I pick him up with one arm and try to remove his pants with the other. Remember the plane is still shaking violently, so this is not an easy task, especially in the confines of an airplane lavatory. I finally manage to get the pants off and have him stand on the sink with his arm around my neck for stability. After extricating the unusable underwear I wrap them in a few more seat liners and then pull his pants back on.
A sense of relief hits me and I prepare to go back. A thorough cleansing of my hands is definitely in order. When I look down at my hands, a huge feeling of dread and fresh wave of nausea hits me as I discover that my hands and sleeve have a good coating of poop. I know it’s just poop, but remember I have an irrational fear of it! With Wesley still hanging on to my neck I exhaust the bottle of liquid soap and do my best impression of a pre-surgical scrub. Shaking off the water and rolling up my sleeve, I grab a fresh seat liner and make a sling for the previously-wrapped underwear. I take that package with my right hand and pick up Wesley in my left arm begin the journey back to my seat. I only have to go about 5 rows forward, but it’s a very delicate dance carrying a 40-lb child and dangling a toxic waste package with my free hand while navigating a narrow aisle that’s in the throes of pitching, yawing and rolling.
When I arrive at my row I temporarily stash the package in the seatback pocket and get Wesley situated. I wipe away his tears and buckle him in. He puts head in my lap and I stroke his head until he falls asleep. I finally take a relaxed breath. I try to purge the recent events from my mind. The shuddering feeling dissipates. I fall asleep, exhausted.
As we’re landing I stop and recount the incident to myself. With the trauma behind me I actually realize that this could have been a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy movie. I muster a smile thinking about how funny it would have looked from the outside. As we’re walking on the jetway into the airport I realize that I left a certain “surprise” in the seatback pocket. I feel bad for the employee who will find it, but remembering how Delta had treated us earlier, the feeling quickly goes away.
















