Why husbands cannot be trusted

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I have resigned myself to the inevitable.

There are just certain things in my life that I have no say in, no matter how much I whine, beg, and plead.

I know it's shocking, as I am the queen of quite a lot around here. I run the schedules, bedtimes, shopping, budget, and even most of the home repairs. But sometimes, the Husband just has to step up and take control, leaving this plan-a-holic gasping for breath.

Oh, the nerve of that man.

Take, for instance, the case of my sweet, angelic boy. One could hardly look into these baby blues and find any trace of malice, misdeed, or negativity.


Now take a look at what happens to my sweet angel the MINUTE, I tell you, THE VERY MINUTE, his father gets a hold of him and takes him for a haircut:

Could it be...Satan?

Lucifer, out back practicing his sweet moves

In truth, I have simply accepted my fate. Every year, on the last week of school, my loving, sensitive middle child is going to always turn punk and sport a mohawk. (See here, and here for proof, if you don't believe me).

I tolerate it for maybe a week or two, and then the mohawk is replaced by a summer buzz cut.

Don't tell him, but secretly I love that he doesn't give a lick what people at school think or care at all if he stands out in the crowd.

His older brother, however, could not be more mortified.

So here's to embracing life fully, doing what feels good, and sporting your own kind of style. May we all find a way to do that in our own lives.

Just preferably not in the barber shop.

P.S. Courtesy of random.org, the winner of the Yanni Voices tickets is Maren! Email me if you can go and I will turn your name in at the will-call box. Thanks, local peeps, for playing along. Maybe someday the sponsors will be generous enough to fly you ALL out here for a little show and a lot of Stie.

If only, right?

A weekend McKay will not likely forget

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Our Memorial Day weekend was definitely, shall we say, a memorable one.

It started off with a literal bang when McKay crashed his bike on the street Friday afternoon, leaving (in his words) "a three-foot trail of blood and skin behind him."

He was wearing his helmet, which left his head in tip-top shape. We can't say the same thing for his knees and elbows, however.

Saturday was spent at a water park that masquerades as our city pool. It really is fantastic. Sometime I need to take my camera along with me so you can see what I mean. Giant water slides, a lazy river, diving pool, and watery playground. All within two minutes of our front door.

I'm pretty sure if they had beds there, our family would permanently move in every summer.

Sunday, the boys joined scout troops from all over Missouri to place flags on every soldier's grave at Jefferson Barracks. It was a profoundly patriotic experience for them both, despite McKay and a little incident involving vomit.

The poor kid really hasn't felt good all weekend, but we dragged him there anyway. Mostly to appease his brother, who was in tears that anyone would miss an opportunity to pay their respects to the veterans.

Have I mentioned that Chase LOVES the veterans? So much so, that he tried to donate the entire contents of my checking account to the Marine Corp veterans taking donations outside our grocery store on Saturday.

I had to help Chase see that a few dollars was good enough, though I am fairly confident he was not convinced.




Monday was spent at the movie theater seeing Night at the Museum, part two. (Our take: Not as funny as the original, but still made us laugh. Especially the Darth Vader/Oscar the Grouch part).

Poor Mack sat feverish and clammy through the entire show. I was prepared though, and brought a giant Ziploc bag, you know, just in case.

Luckily, we didn't need it.

Monday morning brought more vomiting, fevers, and a sharp pain in McKay's right side. Thus, Monday afternoon and evening was spent most memorably at the E.R. getting a CT scan to rule out appendicitis.

Scans came back negative (thank goodness) and after many hours spent watching Sponge Bob from a scratchy hospital chair, we were sent home with anti-nausea medicine and paperwork on gastroenteritis (which is really just a fancy word for stomach virus).

Stay tuned tomorrow for the concert tickets winner and pictures of a pretty exciting annual event around here involving Chase, the Husband, and a barber.

Heaven help me.

Calling all the local peeps

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A little deliciousness for your Friday viewing pleasure:



I know, right?

Want to go see them?

Leave me a comment by midnight on Sunday, May 24th, and I will draw one lucky winner who will receive two tickets for the show. You will also receive passes for the meet and greet with the artists after the show, courtesy of the One2One Network. The show is Saturday, May 30th in St. Louis. Enter as many times as you'd like.

What can I say? I really liked getting all those comments.

I plan to be there with the fabulous Oma in tow. You might get to see me, too, if you're extra lucky.

I'll be the chubby one sneaking in M&Ms and diet coke in my gigantic purse.

How to be a rock star mom: Step-by-step instructions

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Step One:
Have a good friend plugged in enough to the local literary scene that she alerts you to a book signing by your son's favorite author, Rick Riordan, creator of the brilliant Percy Jackson series.

Be sure to tell your oldest son about this as though it were your idea.

Step Two:
Take your oldest son and two of his friends to the book signing. Arrive two hours early in anticipation of the large crowds. Bring Subway sandwiches and a deck of cards to keep them busy.


Bask in the glow of their praise for your genius as you watch the line stretch out behind you for miles.

Step Three:
While waiting for the signing to start, steal your son's copy of the newest Percy Jackson saga, and ignore Radio Disney blasting from the speakers above your head. Pay no attention whatsoever to the ongoing pictionary game while reading said book. Look up momentarily to discover your son diving head first into the game and take a photograph of his thoughtful and artistic rendition of Medusa.

Smile, wave, and pretend you've been paying attention the whole time.

Step Four:
Laugh and shake your head when the crowd erupts in squeals and screams as Mr. Riordan enters the room. Be grateful your own son is above such hysterics.

Look over to find him hopelessly mooning over Mr. Riordan and basking in the sheer bliss of the moment.

Step Five:
Have your camera ready for the very moment when his peaceful bliss turns into utter delight as he realizes JUST. WHERE. HE. IS. RIGHT. NOW.

Feel very satisfied for making him so happy.


Step Six:
Text friends while waiting in a seemingly endless line for Mr. Riordan's signature.


Step Seven:
Be glad there is a former middle school teacher out there who decided to tell a bedtime story to his son. These actions, several years later, will cause your son to proclaim this day as, "THE BEST DAY OF HIS WHOLE LIFE."

Step Eight:
Drive home with a profound sense of satisfaction for, today, indeed, you were a great mom.
________________

If any of you (or your children) have not read these books, I highly recommend picking up a copy of the first book in the series, "The Lightning Thief." We have all enjoyed them at our house, and look forward anxiously for the movie coming out next February. They are a fabulous way to get your kids excited about reading. My oldest has become a fanatic on Greek mythology and these books have led him to study this subject in depth. I might even venture out on a limb to say that I liked them better than the Harry Potters.

Don't hate me. Read them and judge for yourself.

Would you like to super size that ego?

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Well.

For the first time ever, I am at a loss for words.

How much do I love you, my cute little internet peeps?

I would have logged on here sooner to tell you as much, but I couldn't fit my now-gigantic head through the front door, let alone squeeze it in and be able to sit down in front of the computer.

You have made my day. You have rocked my world. You have given me the will to live.

Well, that last part was maybe a bit dramatic.

But, still, I am humbly honored and thrilled to know you're all out there, somehow connecting with the stuff that gets churned out here at Stie's Thoughts. I love you all. I wish we could go to dinner sometime and have you tell me again how wonderful I am.

Okay. I'll stop now. Really.

I will be drawing a winning comment tonight, and will accept entries until 8 p.m., central time, for anybody coming late to what became the surprise party for Stie.

Thanks, friends.