I heart May

As long as I remain a loyal SUU Thunderbird, our Aprils will remain a gaggle of chaos and stress and run-around, thanks to that pesky line in my job description that dumps the University's annual graduation festivities in my lap.

April also brings Easter (and the obligatory travels to be with family); spring planting and cleaning (or at least the at least half-unfulfilled back-of-your-mind nagging to do so); Porter's birthday (complete with Ace of Cakes amateur hour); and Coach Andy's soccer season (and the resulting single momming).

And this year, as an added bonus, it brought a half-marathon, family stuff that was important but inopportune, a graduation celebration for two of the Burts (Andy's brother and his wife), a new church calling, a smoking-but-paid-off car (that needed a new radiator), non-stop teething for both Nora (I-teeth) and I (wisdom teeth), and a visit from the Atlanta/New York contingent of the Burt clan.

Yes, our April was full. And though there was probably more fun in all of that than actual work, in the end, it comes as no surprise to me that I have now resurfaced to find a much-neglected blog among the aftermath of the Burt family's April.

And though you will be getting the nitty gritty on all of the above, for now, I'm still on reconnaissance to find just how many to-dos have been back-burnered. I have to make the new to-do list before I can start checking things off.

And so I leave you all with promises to get caught up (even though I am certain burtastic.com isn't a page-turner for any of our six faithful readers -- our kids are cute, but I'm sure you all had your own Aprils to get through).

And as an added bonus, a fairly telling image of my April:
squatting in heels while duct taping. Multi-tasking at its best. Imagine a whole month of similar mismatchery, and you've got a pretty good sense of the chapter we are now closing.

Hooray for May!!!

I once had a writing professor who said, "You only get three exclamation points to use throughout your life. Use them wisely."

I will gladly squander all three of mine on May if it conveys the relief/excitement/anticipation that comes with the fifth month of the year.

In Like a Lion

Spring is officially here.

Never mind that it's supposed to snow tomorrow and that our Easter trip to the zoo may be canceled thanks to dreary skies, the true measure of the opening spring season -- with all it's lionesque gusto -- comes with the start of the soccer season. And even though they have had to shovel the field more than once since the season began, Cedar City's soccer players are out in full force, and Andy is right there with them, leaving Nora, Porter and I to our own devices day in and day out, which, at the very least, provides for some creative entertainment as I try to squeeze dinner, playtime, clean-up, bathtimes and bedtime all into the 3.5 hours between work and bedtime.

Dancing is at the top of our list when it comes to dinner prep. I can keep an eye on the chaos from my post in the kitchen, and both the kiddos could spend hours bouncing and spinning to the Glee soundtrack that Andy bought me for Christmas but foolishly thought I wouldn't play in his presence. (Hmm, maybe that's why he's abandoned us for the soccer field.)

Nora is our resident DJ, and has learned to push the play, pause and forward buttons -- much to her very particular brother's chagrin.

As for Porter, his new favorite song is the Glee version of "Gold Digger," followed closely by "Can't Fight this Feeling," of which he knows every word.

And tries to recreate on the piano, recorder and tambourine.

After loads of coaxing, idle threats and bribes, dinner passes with one vegetarian daughter (seriously, no matter what kind of meat it is or how it's cooked, Nora refuses to put it in her mouth) and one far too-busy-playing-to-eat son.

And with dinner clean-up comes the mischief of toddler and preschooler left to their own devices.

Dress-up for Nora (the girl ADORES shoes)

And, on this particular evening, Robin Egg face painting for Porter.

Once the dishes are done, I join the natives in their misadventures.

Though dancing altogether is at the top of the list for both of them (yes, I have the worst rhythm in the bunch), Nora has really taken to reading as of late,

And Porter loves anything with scissors and glue, jumping off stairs and couches, and making shadow puppets.

(He was a bear. We Burts are a literal bunch.)

And that, in a nutshell, is the quick explanation for the lack of recent posts. Maybe the sunshine (after yet another weekend storm) will inspire something a bit more consistent. For now, I leave you with the two littles who keep me running, laughing and forever in the laundry room. Husband or not (I should stop complaining, he really is a great dad), who wouldn't love coming home to this?

A Happy Heart

This is more so that I'll always remember it than anything else, but a friend of mine told me she prefers my "story posts" to my photo posts, so I thought I'd throw this one up for anyone who needs a little heart warming.

But first, a little background: Thanks to Pandora, I rediscovered Ingrid Michaelson with this song, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. It also holds a completely different meaning to me as a mom than it did when last I encountered the Elvis original.

Which means: Porter and Nora have both endured my craggy-voiced renditions at bedtime for the better part of a week. (It's a good thing they love me. Andy doesn't even get that much trust; I cock an ear to make sure he's down the hall or watching TV before I sing my kiddos into dreamland if it's anything beyond Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star).

But I digress. So last night, as I was putting Porter to bed (and after trying to explain the meaning behind classic nursery rhymes that, in modern times, read like gibberish...why in the world did the old lady in the shoe whip her kids before bed??? Context please!), I snuggled up alongside my first born and asked what song he wanted for the night. Though I normally get a laundry list of every song he can think of in the span of 30 seconds, delaying sleep as long as possible, last night, as he buried himself in mounds of blanket and my arms, he said simply, "The love song."

And I say this a lot lately, but again, my heart melted.

And with Andy still at a soccer game, I sang my craggiest yet and felt so thankful for this time when my little boy still wants snuggles and bedtime stories and off-pitch songs from his mommy.