February 4, 2009


Posted in I Wanna Talk About Me tagged , , at 9:29 pm by junecleaverwouldbeshocked

I have a bad, bad habit of diving into a new project with gusto, fully intending to make it perfect and complete and in record time. I was going to have my first daughter’s scrapbook completely caught up before my second daughter arrived, knit a complete layout for my younger daughter (and all of my friends who are having babies) and update this blog every single stinking day. Guess how many of those have happened?

They just get less thrilling with time. I put it off, because I’m not as thrilled with it. Then sometimes I forget about it entirely. I guess that’s the definition of procrastination, and I’m BAD about it.

What’s worse, is that when I think of it again, I get discouraged because it didn’t go better. Take this blog, that absolutely no one reads – except for you, Talia (thanks!) And I don’t know that I’ve updated our homeschool blog at all. Of course, that’s also been being put off a bit lately, thanks to holidays, birthdays, snotty noses and random other things. I guess that’s the one thing that I can’t keep on the back burner for very long.

I’ve been tempted to start a completely new blog, now that I’ve fallen head over heels for digital scrapbooking and, in order to consider someone for their Creative Team, many designers insist that they have a blog to post their layouts on. But I don’t want to abandon this one, as then I’d have no good written record of family events (when the inspiration strikes to blog about them, that is.)

Maybe I’ll just prettify this one and start posting them here instead.

That would, of course, demand that I ditch the ridiculous monikers attached to my girls and reveal their real names. You know, I’m not completely sure why I did that in the first place. I guess it was because I’ve read so many other blogs that called their daughters Mookie and Dipsy and Dotty and Girl, and it always drove me nuts not knowing what the little cuties were actually called. It just created the evil little bent that wanted to return the favor. But again, no one reads anyway (except Talia, and she already knows my girls’ names) so what’s the point? And besides, I chose their names and love their names, so I’m done with the charade.

Princess is Rachael. She really is a Princess, that’s no lie. It’s one of only two nicknames in the world we can get away with calling her without her having a tee total fit on us, and if we try to explain that she’s not actually a princess (as Mommy and Daddy are not royalty) she will argue the point until she is absolutely blue in the face.

Boogie is Amelia. Or Milly. Or Boo Bear. But I wasn’t really so far off in calling her Boogie here, as we actually call her Boogie more than anything else anyway. But no one knew that but me, so nyah-nyah-nyah.

NOW. I’ve gotten my fuming out of the way about that…I’ll be back with more later.

December 10, 2008

Whatever you want, it’s yours.

Posted in I Wanna Talk About Me tagged , at 5:34 pm by junecleaverwouldbeshocked

I love my children. I do.

And I would never use the phrase “I’d sell my soul” about anything, because I absolutely would not.

But I would give anything else for ONE DAY away from them both, and I do mean ANYTHING.

You want my house, my van, my TV? Fine. Need a kidney? I have a spare. Public humiliation? I think I could handle it.

But oh my gosh, if they don’t go away and leave me alone, just for a little while (because I would surely miss them after that), I am going to lose my mind.

Just one more way that I am certainly no June Cleaver. SHE was always thrilled to see her boys. But then, they went to school and left her alone all day. Come to think of it, if she were me, I bet she’d be a bit more frazzled too.

August 5, 2008

Since I’m a slacker…

Posted in Baby Talk tagged , , , , , , , at 5:55 am by junecleaverwouldbeshocked

I started this blog because I had become so horrible at updating my old one. Apparently, old habits are hard to break. So before I forget entirely what’s happening right now, a quick rundown of what Boogie is up to at not-quite-eight-months-old.

  • Considering crawling. Thinking very hard about it, but not quite decided yet. She’s very good at getting onto her hands and knee, while sticking her other knee out to one side like a chubby little kickstand and getting utterly stuck for several seconds, before finally plopping down onto her belly and assuming the scooting position. She’s very good at scooting backward, and around in circles, and sometimes sideways. She’s definitely mobile, just not in any traditional or easily describable way.
  • Clapping is fun. Even more fun is clapping your hands, for you. And then gnawing on them.
  • She gnaws on them because she has two pearly whites now, on the bottom. They’re the cutest teeth in the world, incidentally.
  • She subscribes to the “eat to live, don’t live to eat” theory. Real food comes along but once a day, at dinnertime, and usually consists of either peas, sweet potatoes, green beans, apples, pears or oatmeal. Sweet potatoes and apples are by far the favorites. She is still breastfed on demand, and demands loudly and often. Broken up Cheerios are a recent discovery, although the verdict is still out.
  • The three things that relieve teething pain every time: her sippy cup, full of ice water (apparently makes the spout cold, as she chews on it); “icy cold teethers” that her sister loves to fetch for her from the fridge; and an ice cube in that funky mesh feeder thing that her sister would never touch as an infant.
  • She knows the sign for “milk” and ain’t afraid to use it.
  • Loves to talk. Started out with “dadadada” non-stop, but has since ditched him in favor of “mamamama”. However, the vast majority of her babbling sounds exactly like “BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH”, and I have no clue how she makes the “l” sound.
  • She instigates games of peek-a-boo by hiding her face in your arm/leg/shoulder/whatever is available, and leaving it there until you say “wheeeeere’s Boogie?” Then she pops her head up and grins. It’s only the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s an absolute genius for figuring it out all by herself.
  • We are still happy co-sleepers. It’s been nearly a month now since she stopped nursing to sleep, and I am still amazed every. single. time. she goes to bed without a boob in her mouth. I nursed her sister to sleep every night, every naptime, until she was eighteen months old. For Boogie to be able to go to sleep without my assistance feels like a little miracle. She goes to bed around 8 now, sleeps until I come to bed (usually at a ridiculous time), nurses and goes back to sleep until 8-ish, or whenever her sister sees fit to wake us up.
  • My only complaint is that separation anxiety hit hard and early. Woe be unto me if I attempt to sit the child down and move more then three inches away. On rare occasions, she’ll play happily in the floor while I wash a dish or check my email, but usually my moving away from her is rewarded by banshee-like screams of displeasure, which are quieted only by picking her up again. Needless to say, it is difficult to accomplish much of anything while lugging around a twenty pound cling-on.

Having two children is much more difficult than I imagined that it would be – and that’s a complete understatement. There are days when none of us get dressed, simply because she won’t allow me to put her down for long enough without her screaming – and while sometimes it’s just necessary, I don’t like to let her cry unless there’s just no way around it. There are days when I don’t get to do anything one-on-one with Princess, and I feel horrible about that. There are days when I don’t do anything to the house, and I feel horrible about that. In fact, it seems as though I always feel horrible about something. Mommy guilt is an unforgiving master.

However, there is one thing that helps alleviate some of that guilt. I was utterly convinced, before Boogie was born, that I could never, never love another child the way I loved my first. And as much as I wanted another girl, I almost thought that a boy would be easier to love, since that love would be, somehow, different. But, I’m happy to report that I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I love her more than I thought possible, and without sacrificing one iota of my love and devotion to my first daughter. Weird how that works for us mommies. And very, very cool.

July 18, 2008

I heart my grandshrimp.

Posted in Crazy Homeschoolers tagged , , , , at 3:36 am by junecleaverwouldbeshocked

Guess I haven’t mentioned yet that we’re a homeschooling family, have I? Yep, we’re crazy homeschoolers. My kiddos are wildly unsocialized – don’t make direct eye contact with them. They’re like little wolverines.

Okay, that’s entirely untrue. Sass is anything but antisocial – in fact, we often find ourselves wondering just where her super-social gene came from, as she certainly didn’t inherit it from her parents. Boogie is too young yet to be antisocial; she’ll go to most anyone except my mother-in-law, for reasons entirely unknown to anyone but her little self. Although we have our theories. *ahem*

Anyway, I was browsing the toy department at Wal-Mart last week, looking for an appropriate bribe surprise for Sass, who was being reasonably well-behaved while we shopped for groceries, when I came across Sea Monkeys! My reaction, of course, was that of any former-kid who had drooled over the wordy Sea Monkey ads in the back of her Archie comics – amazing, live sea monkeys! Watch them come to live before your very eyes! And do tricks! And clean your room and eat your broccoli! That is, my reaction was: “Hey, cool! Sea Monkeys!” And since I wanted them, I immediately justified buying them for Sass by turning them into a summertime science curriculum. I need to do more science-y things anyway, as we mostly focus on reading and math. But hey, she is only four.

So we came home with her nifty new little blue Sea Monkey tank, filled it up and added the water purifier, and waited the requisite 24 hours before adding the eggs to the tank. The next morning, while squinting into the water, I distinctly saw a little squiggle swimming about. Later that day, I saw a bunch more little squiggles – at least a dozen of them, and a few of them actually identifiable as the teensy brine shrimp they are. (But “monkeys” sounds like so much more fun, doesn’t it?!) I pointed them out to her, and we spent at least two happy minutes peering into the water at them. Sass immediately christened the largest squiggle Wall-E, and the next-largest squiggle Eve. Girlfriend is a little obsessed with Pixar films.

That evening, I was multitasking as usual – making dinner (chicken casserole, which is semi-June-ish), straightening the kitchen and talking on the phone to my mom. I was telling her all about our new little critters, how neat they were, how excited Rachael was, etc. All this while I was wiping the countertops around the tank. And then, just as I’d finished talking about them… *THUNK*  That was me knocking over the sea monkey tank, in case you didn’t recognize that particular breed of “thunk”. Water and sea monkeys flew all over the kitchen counter, into the floor…there was no saving the poor little things. I couldn’t even SEE them, much less rescue them. Sass, being in the next room, flew into the kitchen in a rage, placed her little hands squarely on her hips, stomped her foot and yelled, “ASHAME OF YOU!”

Ashame of me indeed. I felt terrible. Horrible. Miserable. Lower than low. I am pond scum. I am the amoeba that feed on pond scum. I murdered my baby’s pets. It was accidental shrimp-slaughter, but it was a massacre nonetheless.

I did what any mom would do, I suppose. I hugged her and told her how very (VERY) sorry I was, and that I would hie to Wal-Mart that very evening to buy her all new Sea Monkeys, and that she would have two tanks instead of just one. And I did.

Round two of our sea monkey experiment is now in residence on the kitchen counter – we just added the eggs to the water tonight. I’ll be looking tomorrow to see if there are new baby shrimp wiggling around in the water, but you can rest assured that I won’t be getting too close.