You could set your watch by it

It's not the warm, muggy weather that is starting to creep in and make you sweat all over.

It's not the lack of homework or plethora of school functions four out of the five nights per week.

It's not even the sudden urge to stop eating and drop 40 pounds because OH MY GOSH it's time to get into a swimsuit.

Though that is a serious problem.

How do you know that summer is almost here? These fabulous hair cuts, that's how.

Six years running, people.  That is a lot of hair history.

I give you the Mohawk Brothers of 2012.

Before:

And after:

I was hoping to find an explanation for behavior like this, but sadly, I don't think we can blame it on the mohawks.  I think we can blame it on the fact that they are boys.

And boys will always be boys.

Welcome back, summer. It's good to see you, old friend.

A post! Don't die of shock

You wouldn't know it because I haven't posted since Adam and Eve were disciplining that little rascal Cain, but there is actually a lot of stuff that has happened around here recently, most of which is blog worthy.

I know!  Try to contain the excitement.

Tragically, I have had no internet all week to share any of it with you.

Or a home phone line with which to call and whine to you about.

(Provided, naturally, that you're one of the three people in my life who I'm actually willing to talk on the phone with in the first place.

A phone girl, I am not.  Give me email or give me death.)

But stay tuned.  There are things coming your way.  I succeeded in functioning as my own I.T. guy and the technology in my home is back up and running.

(No thanks to you, AT&T.)

Hooray for a belated return to blogging!  And thoroughly embarrassing my kids with tales from their real life!  And narcissistic posts all about ME that are sure to annoy my brother!

I. really. can't. wait.

DIY Bulletin Board

Want to learn how to make this cute bulletin board in just a few easy steps, one which does not require a can of spray paint and costs less than $20?

Step one: Buy a really ugly large print on clearance at Michael's or some other craft mecca. This one is 24x36. Large. And freakishly ugly. Unless black and white abstract leaves are your thing. In that case, never mind. You go back to enjoying your colorless, boring life full of leaves. And I'll try to stop judging you.

Step two: Remove the offensive, abstract leaf artwork, the accompanying mat, and, ever so carefully, the glass. Discard all of these items.

Step three: Insert 12x12 squares of cork board, also purchased at craft mecca. My print was a multiple of 12, so my squares fit evenly without having to cut any of the cork squares. If your frame is odd sized, just cut the cork to fit.

Step four: Using the double-sided tape tabs that come with the cork, secure all of the cork pieces to each other on the edge.

Step five: Using the thick backing that came with the print, flip over the newly joined cork squares. Lay fabric of your choice on a flat surface, and flip cork and backing over the top, with the cork facing down.

Step six: Pull tightly and staple edges of fabric to thick backing. I used a regular stapler because I'm lazy klassy like that. You could use a more advanced stapler, but mine worked just fine.

Step seven: Cut off excess fabric, and put inside your frame.

Step eight: Hang the bulletin board on your daughter's wall, and feel like an extreme crafter. Refuse to succumb to your husband's taunts about your lack of proper staple usage. Know deep down that your improper usage is what makes you awesome and distinguishes you from other DIYers and their fancy equipment.

Step nine: Stand back to admire your handiwork. Reward yourself with some chocolate and a diet coke.

Any questions?

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.