Temperature Shock

As I sit here in my cozy pj pants, my favorite long sleeved t-shirt, and my very big, soft sweatshirt, I am asking myself for the millionth time, "Why do I live in the Midwest?"

Coming back from Florida where warm weather and sunshine warmed my soul makes tolerating this cool fall weather even worse than it normally is.

We're back from our long awaited, much anticipated, vacation to Florida. I literally have hundreds of pictures to download, so I'll have to sort through those. Some of them will appear on this blog and the rest will be on Flickr, so make sure you click on the Flickr badge to see the rest. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get all of the important "returning home" stuff done. Stuff like laundry, reading the 76 emails that are in my inbox, and trying to figure out what the peculiar smell is coming from our refrigerator. I think something might be dead in there. I know it's not our cat since she is sitting at my feet right now.

Our trip was wonderful. Our house was wonderful. The kids loved swimming right in their own backyard whenever they wanted. I loved lying in my comfy bed upstairs being able to see the Disney fireworks perfectly without having to rush through a crowd of madness when they were over while I tried to not lose my children. Nope, when the show was over, I rolled over and went to sleep. Wonderful.

On Tuesday we went to Cocoa Beach. We were fortunate enough to see the Space Shuttle launch before filling every orifice of our bodies with sand. I love the beach. It is probably my most favorite place on earth; however, the sand, oh the sand. We have a miniature beach in our van now and I'm literally still getting sand out from the kids' ears. Just when I think I have it all--SURPRISE the sand is back. It was a great day. The kids loved it so much that it made me wish we lived near the coast.

Of course, Disney was a hit. As a surprise for O, we took her to the Bippity Boppidy Boutique for a makeover and then that same day we went to Cinderella's Castle for lunch. The look on her face was priceless and I got a lump in my throat several times that day when I thought about where we were in life five years ago at this time. L and O were just born, we were sleep deprived, O was chronically unhappy and we were scared out of our minds when we thought about all of the surgeries she would have to endure. Now, here she is, just a regular little girl who had the time of her life.

It's good to be home, even though the weather is cool. Check out the pictures on Flickr. I'm off to investigate possible death in my frig.

Airhorns: You bring out the worst in me

I don't like airhorns. You know the annoying noisemaker that obnoxious, overconfident parents bring to sporting events in order to humiliate and brag all in one, HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK?

I've been on both sides of the air horn. J was once on an All Star Baseball team with a boy whose father seemed to blow an air horn each time he breathed. Oh! My son caught the ball! HONK. Oh! My son hit a double! HONK. Oh! My son took a drink of water! HONK. Our team was doing very well, which everyone who had eyes could see. We did not need Father Goose and his honking to inform the crowd.

Once, and I'm almost afraid to admit this, I was involved in a verbal "spat" of sorts during one of J's soccer games with a group of parents from a snotty soccer club. They all had air horns and alcohol. Yes, this is a great combo. Intoxicated people do not know how to exercise restraint in pushing the button. So, I nicely asked them to put their air horns away since they were beating us 9-0, taunting our goalie, and laughing at the boys. They did not respond nicely to my request. Fortunately, the referee glared at all of them and they realized it didn't matter how great and wonderful their soccer club was, they better quiet down.

So, this past weekend we were at our home tournament. Our boys made it to the championship. This was a miracle of sorts since we've had a really rough season. It's easy to size up the opposing team by watching their fans before the game. Sometimes the parents line their chairs up in a perfectly straight line and speak in hushed tones. Their boys don't goof around during warm ups, they have their game faces on, and they beat the tar out of us. Some parents are social, they come down and talk with our parents. Their teams are usually like us--friendly and fun. Then some teams' fans look pretty harmless and normal, but really, they're not. Such was the case yesterday when we realized that the team we were playing had air horns.

Suddenly, we all were in panic mode. Did we have anything noisy, too? Would jingling our keys count? This team was out for blood. They fully believed they were going to win. They had dads coaching from the sidelines just in case their actual coach's words weren't enough.

Fortunately, our boys never gave that team a chance to blow their horns. We won 1-0.

We were all pretty excited to say the least and after all of my hooping and hollering and celebrating, I know that I too, should never be given a noise making device at a game because if I had one, I'd make too much of a spectacle of myself. My noisy mouth is quite enough.

Milestone in the life of O

My little girl made her first official "big girl" decision this past weekend.

She decided she wanted to get her ears pierced.

Who planted this seed of piercing desire? Well, that would be her Nana, of course. Nana, who is my grandmother, has told O since she was about 3 years old that when she got her ears pierced, Nana would give her a pair of diamond earrings. This meant nothing to O. In fact, after a lot of asking from Nana, and once she realized piercing meant putting holes in your ears, she decided that she would be five before any piercings would occur. To a three year old, five seems awfully far away. On her 5th birthday, Nana asked her again when she was getting her ears pierced and O replied that she would need to be 6 before going forward with this idea of sticking something sharp in her skin.

As parents, we didn't really have an issue with it. I know that sometimes people want their daughters to be 12 or 13. Some people disagree withdoing it at all. All we wanted was for her to actually want to do it, so we didn't feel like we were torturing her. And so, one day soon after she hit the big FIVE, she decided it was time. Waiting another year until she turned six was just out of the question.

So, while the boys were at a football game last Saturday, I took O and K to the mall for a trip to Claire's and a pretzel. In anticipation of this grand event, O had decked herself out in every single solitary item of costume jewelry she owned. She drew quite a bit of attention parading through the mall like a star going to the Oscars. Gaudy does not even begin to describe how she looked.

She climbed up in the chair, chose her earrings (pink crystal flowers, of course), held my hands and closed her eyes. All the while I kept asking her, "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to do this. Are you sure you want to do this?"

KACHUNK KACHUNK is the next thing I heard followed by,

"MOMMY! OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then, as quickly as the tears began, they stopped. It was off to get a pretzel, but not before paying $38.00 to the cashier. Since when did ear piercing get so expensive? I distinctly remember my mom paying $5.00 back in 1978 when I got my ears pierced.

Now my girly girl has sparkly ears and she's just so very excited.

Oh, see that Flickr badge up there to your right? Here are some instructions to see pictures:

1. Click on the actual pictures you see--not the www.flickr.com
2. Once you are at my site, click on "June Clever's Photostream" and this will show you all the pictures I have uploaded.

Back from the depths of laundry

Well, I'm back. No over zealous, skunk lover can keep me down regardless of how scary his or her threats actually were. But, to err on the side of caution, the kids will now be referred to by their first initials, so get used to seeing J, L, O and K.

And, if you'd like to leave a comment on any post, you can do that easily. You don't even have to have a blogger account, just click the "anonymous" option after clicking "post a comment". Just please sign your first name so I know who you are.

So, how have I been keeping myself busy these past few months? Certainly not keeping my house in pristine order which explains the title of this blog. I was trying to come up with something that would keep our family's identity under wraps while summing up my stage in life right now. I've pretty much come to the realization that no matter how hard I try, my life will never match that of Mrs. June Clever.

I do not vacuum in high heels. I prefer being barefoot.

I do not wear pearls around the house. It's a good day if I actually have time to shower before everyone else wakes up.

I do not cope with troublesome situations by sighing and replying, "Oh gee, Beav, could you please stop irritating Wally?" Sometimes I lose my cool. It's not pretty and I'm working on that.

So, welcome family and friends and any stray human who happens to have stumbled across this blog!

I am THE OPPOSITE OF JUNE.