How long until spring break next year?

In an effort to not get a year behind on the life documentation that was once this blog, I cannot let a post about spring break go unwritten. (Feel free to click off and hunt for p0rn or up-to-the-minute Kardashian news if you are not a grandparent or one of the people with us on this trip.)

We were invited by some friends to come share a beach house with another family in Florida.

Ten kids.
Three moms.
No dads.
A week on the beach.

What could have been a recipe for mayhem was a recipe for success. We had SO. MUCH. FUN.

So much so, that midweek, I realized with horror that it wasn't actually summer, and that we'd have to return to a rainy, wet, Midwest and resume getting up early in the morning for school.

It was a depressing 45 seconds.

Then, I gave myself over to the gloriousness that was our time there and sucked the marrow from life.

As you should during a week-long beach vacay.

Chase begged to bring his newly-received raft, and I gave in with reservations. I worried that it would take up too much room and not get used by anyone.

Oh, I was sorely mistaken. I think the raft was probably the most-used item, second only to the showers. They played in it every day. At the beach. In the pool. Everywhere. And, clearly, all at once.

Also a hot commodity were the many iPads. Will my children ever appreciate the gadgets that are such a big part of their world? Will they ever understand how I survived a childhood without them?

And with the hours of silent entertainment they bring, do I really want them to?

I'm going with a resounding no.

Mindy wins the award for best sport. When she reached down to get something out of the pool, my evil instincts kicked in and before I could stop myself, I gave her tiny backside a push. She fell in head first, clothes and all, and came up laughing. I waited tentatively all week for her revenge, but she never once retaliated. THAT, peeps, is a good friend to have around.

Also exciting was sharing the city with several intoxicated college students, who were also on spring break. Notice the handsome fellow bravely wearing a bright yellow speedo in the background? TOTALLY Mindy's team. Given to her generously by Beckie and I. Because we're just kind like that.

Also awesome was the up close and personal lesson my children received on the down sides of alcohol. Watching a group of (I'll call them) kids beer bonging on the beach at 11 a.m. left a pretty bitter taste in the mouths of us un-drunk beach goers. Thank you, spring breakers, for showing my kids firsthand what I want them to avoid.

All in all, it was a dream week. Even puncutated by the usual trip to urgent care for our family, it was a vacation to remember. One I'm anxious to go back to right now.

Finding the mojo

Oh, little blog. Will you ever be a regular part of my routine again?

I feel as though you are on life support, and I can't quite bring myself to pull the plug. You are quietly dying, neglected in your corner of my busy life. I love you and think of our great times together, and wish to be back in that place again. The place where I came to you and wrote often. Poured out my feelings and documented the everyday wonderfulness of our lives.

Yet I wonder lately if it would be easier without you weighing on the back of my mind, nudging me to pay attention to you, guilting the part of me that wants to see you thriving and well again.

Sigh.

What to do?

I feel as though most of the blogs I started with are gone. The fabulous circle of internet friends who made this world so fun has dwindled to the remaining few who bravely keep on posting. I want to be one of you. Really, I do. I just lack the motivation and the mojo. I feel as though I am out of ideas. That I have written on every topic humanly possible, and then some.

But then? Something will happen and a little drawer in my mind opens up and files away an idea. I think to myself, Yes! I could write a post about this. And then the phone rings, or the emails come in, and all of a sudden a month has passed without a post.

I hate that.

I miss the writing most of all. The cathartic clearing of my head. The joy of sitting down, fingers to keyboard, ideas giving way to words. The trembling fear of pushing publish on a heartfelt or emotional post, that ultimately led to peace and serenity in my soul. The giggling and secret joy, as I got my own jokes, and found myself far more humorous than anyone else ever could.

I need that. I need this.

I need a journaling outlet. I need a way to look back and remember how fantastic this life of mine is. It's going by at an ever increasing pace and I know I'll regret not jotting it down. Not remembering just how beautiful and awful and annoying and joyful it all really is. I am on the cusp of a whole new phase of life with my darlings, and I don't want to forget a moment of it. I want to remember the smells, the sounds, the glances, and the little touches.

I want to remember it all.

I'm going to get back. Though the frequency will likely be inconsistent at best, I refuse to give up the ghost just yet.

I have faith in you, little blog.

Hang in there.

Dear Husband...

While you were out this week, you missed a lot of exciting things.

First, we joined a gym! I know you will be totally thrilled about it. I am sort of sure I mentioned it on the phone, but sometimes you are busy not listening to my chatter working and miss things. Things I KNOW I told you about. And never accidentally forgot to mention or anything. Ahem.

You see, Chase had to complete a swim test for scouts and, seeing as how he missed doing it at scout camp last year due to a family vacation, the local community gym was our best option.

Once inside their beautiful facility, I looked around me and it was as if the heavens opened and a vision was granted to my eyes. I saw all kinds of greatness. I saw myself working out there like three times a day. Which would, of course, cure me of my cookie addiction, and bring on truckloads of weight loss, thus enabling me to achieve my lifelong goal of being mistaken for a young Grace Kelly. Everywhere I go for the rest of my life.

I also saw our children, racing on their bikes after school and swimming a few laps, thus enabling them to release pent-up energy and complete homework with joy and excitement.

All of this will be occurring while puppies, rainbows, and unicorns fly around us, naturally.

It's going to be great.

Once we, uh, you know, start working out there.

This week also introduced an old friend to our lives: The 4th Grade Recorder. I was hoping to have Hannah save all her practicing for the weekend so you can enjoy it as much as me, but her eagerness has dashed that dream. She has been tooting away for what seems to be hours, but is, in reality, only about ten minutes. It's, well, awesome. And highly valuable to her education, I am sure.

Lastly, you missed the gourmet feast of Tortizzas (think pizza tortillas) brought to us by Chase as a required lab in the sixth grade home-ec class. While it might not become the newest trend in culinary sophistication, it was a meal NOT prepared by me or purchased as take out from anything ending in 'ickdonalds'. He was thrilled with his success, and has since made them every day as an after-school snack for himself. It's quite honestly a welcome reprieve from his creatively inspired "homemade chocolate milk" that was more sugar than milk, and left a mess on the counter, cupboards, ceiling and floor. Tortizzas only leave a mess on the counter. It's great.

Otherwise, things here are going rather well. We're holding our own and anxious for the weekend to arrive. The boys have big plans for you to take them to the movies, and I have big plans to sleep late, watch some Downton, and maybe eat a few Tortizzas.

Oh, and go to the gym.

See you soon, love.

Stie

P.S. This is me attempting to re-enter the blog world after an almost unprecedented four week absence with no excuse to offer you whatsoever. I offer my apologies and assurance that all is well in our neck of the woods. Busy, but good.

Fourteen

Dear McKay,

Well, my boy, you are now 14.

As I've thought about what I'd like to tell you in this birthday letter, I am drawn time and time again to the contrast between you and the person I was at 14. I was snarky, sarcastic, angry, and insecure. I took every opportunity to buck the rules laid upon me, and resented the grown up people in my life. I was rebellious and unhappy.

The greatest thrill of my life is that you are, in every single way, the complete opposite of what I was then. You are happy, kind, sweet, and confident. You love and adore the parentals in this house and look forward to time spent together as a family. You obey the rules religiously, and bring logical well-planned arguments for our consideration when you think rules should be altered. Quite honestly, we usually agree with your logic, and make changes accordingly.

Though we don't tell you often enough, we are proud as punch for the maturity you show in times like these. You make it nearly impossible to tell you no, kid.

And you leave me wondering what I ever did to deserve you.

Right now, you are obsessed with all things basketball. Almost every item on your birthday wish list was basketball related. You have a routine after school each day, and you follow it rain or shine. After guzzling a large glass of milk, you head out to the back yard and shoot some hoops. I think it helps you to clear your head and unwind before the chore of homework begins.

What brings a smile to my face is that most days I look out the window and see you with your brother or sister, offering pointers, and cheering them on from the sidelines, rather than shooing them away to focus on yourself.

It's not the game that matters. It's the people who play alongside you that count. A lesson, sweet boy, that we are all learning from you.

Mack, your heart is pure gold.

As you grow into a man, which I know is bound to happen whether I like it or not, I hope you will take this knowledge and lock it deep inside your heart: There is not a day goes by that I don't thank god for sending me you. You are truly a noble soul. Your sweetness of spirit is infectious and brings joy to all those around you. You are quick to laugh, especially at yourself, and so easy to love.

You make me smile each and every day.

Thank you for showing me just how fantastically wonderful teenage boys can be.

I love you, my little KcKay. And I always will.

Love, Mami

Big Mack

Last week, I registered my baby boy for high school.

It brought a great deal of anxiety to our home. There were tears and panic attacks. Late night worry and lots of stress.

And all of it mine.

It is a marvel to me, this child of mine. Where I am worry and uncertainty, he is all confidence and cool. His junior high experience was (thankfully) nothing like mine. He breezed through halls that are fraught with angst and cruelty, and has come away unscathed.

He has aced all of his honors classes and still finds time to shoot a few hoops with his friends in the back yard. He loves freely and laughs often.

He likes the girls, we are discovering, but not overtly so. He's a fierce competitor, but not a poor sport. He wants to be just like his father and he loves his brother more than anyone else in the world.

Quite frankly, he's got us all wrapped around his not-so-little-anymore pinkie finger.

And, in spite of my protests otherwise, he will turn fourteen in just three days.

The clock is ticking on our time with this one. Here's hoping it slows down long enough for me to enjoy it.

Just when you think there's nothing to post about...

Last Friday, the Husband lost his iPad.

He left it on a Delta Airlines flight to who knows where.

Yes. The brand new iPad that I surprised him with on Christmas morning.

The iPad that I so sneakily hoarded funds in order to keep a surprise from him, rather than just plunking down the American Express.

And, due to my incredibly sneaky hoarding of funds, when its loss came to our life, there was no American Express to step up and replace it.

I asked. But, strangely, they weren't interested in replacing an iPad that they didn't help us purchase.

Jerks.

We both have been in mourning about it for several days now. [I mean, thank heavens our diamond shoes are still safe. At least THAT gives us some consolation in our bleak, bleak trials of life.]

Well, yesterday afternoon, the Husband received a call from Delta that we never thought would come.

The iPad? Not lost! Turned in by some good samaritan and on its way to St. Louis. It's traveled to a few cities and seen the sights, but it will be in our hot little hands come Wednesday.

I know it's trivial, and I know it's just a thing, but it makes me oh, so happy.

There really ARE some decent people left in the world.

And wherever they are, whatever they are doing, I hope life sends lots of good things their way.