I'm not June Cleaver

I'm no June Cleaver.

Sometimes my husband goes digging into the dryer at 7am trying to find a pair of pants, and they (luckily) are usually there, in a big wrinkly ball that he says absolutely nothing about. They're clean, right?

I think June Cleaver used to iron the bedsheets.

I sometimes forget to even change the bed until someone pees on them. And I am not referring to me or my husband. (in case your brain went that way.)

June Cleaver used to have dinner on the table waiting for her husband and kids, complete with a full set of silverware and glasses full of milk.

I actually FORGOT to eat dinner completely the other day, and didn't realize until I woke up in the morning feeling kind of funny. OH YEAH. I didn't eat...whoops.
My kids did. So that's got to count for something.

No, I am not that perfect housewife.
I know they exist here and there, but is it realistic? Something's gotta give. I sacrifice a hell of a lot, and I'm not entirely sure how I could even sacrifice any more. I mean, I keep my family fed, clothed and alive, dammit. And meanwhile, I look like a homeless woman in pajamas running around with a vacuum with a baby on my hip.


Now, let's not paint a picture of me being a complete loss at this. I do make dinner, and fold laundry, and noone around here is going to starve or be forced to be naked. I vacuum frequently, but that's at the top of the list when you have a two year old who carries his crackers (or 'cracks' as he calls them) everywhere in the house. I keep the toilets sparkly clean, and there are always clean dishes. There are always clean towels, and yes, you can always see the carpet amongst all the toys.

BUT I WANT TO BE AWESOME.

I wish my husband went to work boasting about how his wife 'has it all in control'. WOuldn't that be nice? If my unforseen ability to just do everything was so apparent that even my husband didn't feel the need to help? Wouldn't it be nice if he was bringing homemade cookies and treats to work with him, since his wife was so on top of things that she had time to care for 3 humans AND make banana bread?

I'm not June Cleaver.


Okay, though. Let's be realistic though. There are a lot worse people I could be than my non-Cleaverness.

I mean, my kids are alive, aren't they?

The New Black

I saw something on Facebook the other day that made me giggle.

"Blogging is the new black"

Heh. Is that so? I thought blogging was out.
Is it in again? Seriously, I'm asking. I wouldn't know. I'm a stay at home mommy who hasn't known "in" from "out" since I read a Cosmo about seven years ago. I think High-rise pants were out, Cuba Gooding Jr. was in. I'm lucky if I know the light of day when I see it.
My only 'me time' consists of a 10 minute shower where I can hear my 2 year old banging on the door and whining. I don't read Cosmo. Who are we kidding? I read Goodnight Moon.

So, maybe blogging is "in"?

Perhaps my apprehension comes from the fact that I, myself, have never emphatically followed a blog.
Could it be due to my ever-changing lifestyle?
I mean, don't get me wrong. I'd have to have lived under a rock to not READ a blog or two over the years.
When I was a young, twenty-something, I read about music. And bars. And easy-going, carefree lifestyles. When I got married, I dabbled in the 'house-wifey' blogs. "How to cook this" and "How to clean that" sort of things.
I got pregnant, and I digested all kinds of humorous "What to expects" and "Pack this" and "Wipe warmers are stupid"s and "Make your own babyfood, it's better" blah blahs.....

Then, I had a kid.

Oh, deary me. I gave birth to a living, breathing child. Much as I imagine all sane, new-mommies do...I fell off the face of the Earth BUT for my "This is normal" and "I do this" blogs.

Oh, Yes. I have read blogs. But, like all things in life- eventually I get busy doing what it is I am doing and I stop reading and keep living.

Well. Here I am. Will anyone read this? Who knows. Maybe a random column will pop up on some over-tired, music loving, tattooed mommy's screen for that 3 minutes between breastfeeding and changing a diaper.
Much like me, her life will ensue. But, if I'm there that one minuscule second, I guess that's what this is allllll about. The now.

I digress.

I am writing a blog. This over-tired, tattooed, breastfeeding, cloth diapering mommy is taking a moment between breastfeeding and 2-yr-old tantrums to write a blog that probably noone will read.

If you are, well. Damn, you're awesome.

Booyah to me. :)