Our Little Line Leader: Shucking and Jiving

Shuck and Jive used to mean eating sea food, having drinks, watching my sister pass out from too many Jagermeister shots and dancing to Trash Disco into the wee hours of the morning.

Now it means watching Chloe shuck the corn, very competently, mind you. And dancing to Blue Grass. That's her favorite type of music these days; she's exposed to various genres, but always enthusiastically requests,

"I want to dance to Blue Grass, Mommy."

She shuffles her feet as fast as she can, but with direction, almost as if she's performing a very precisely choreographed river dance while intermittently throwing in the occasional hand stand and toe touch. Mr. Bojangles has nothing on her.

She's also very recently taken on the responsibility of shucking corn (when we have it), setting the table, and tossing the salad before dinner. Her preferred 'cooking' activity is definitely shucking the corn.

Chloe went to Summer camp last week; just a day camp for three hours a day. She swam, ran, and jumped a lot. And made like car loads of crafts. I've never seen so much construction paper, stickers, and legumes in the short span of just one week.

She was up at 3 o'clock in the morning the night before the first day of camp asking if it was morning yet. The little cutie was so excited she couldn't sleep. It was reminiscent of her first Christmas. She was so incredibly excited (more like over-stimulated) that she didn't' sleep Christmas night because she knew she had a room full of new toys just waiting to be played with.

Chloe seems to be, naturally, very assertive and a leader. The girl just knows what she wants. As an infant, she would call me (by using a rhythmic grunt and it even sounded like 'momma' sometimes) if I were in the other room. And three years later - she still does the same but with very clear, very loud, and very emphatic diction. She's a little jabber box and has been since day one.  Can't wait to see what she'll become and what she chooses as a career/job someday.

For now, she'll continue to bring prideful smiles to Mommy and Daddy's faces when she shows us the imperfect craft she made at School/Summer Camp. She makes us laugh until our eyes tear-up these days with her 'potty humor' and her Mr. Bojangles jigs. Plain and Simple, she's ADORABLE.

Maybe a third isn't out of the question after all.

Who said that?

Sugar and Spice and Everything Strife

Let the Games Begin!

A Gold Medal Performance

Okay, about the two children thing; Some days I think this is a piece of cake and other days I think,

"Oh my God, what have I done?"

While one starts screaming, (usually Chloe) the other starts at it like they're in fierce competition, like they're training for the Whine Olympics which makes mommy want to train for the Wine Olympics. Jeez, not a moment of silence and certainly no shower for mommy. (Luckily, I do rush into the bathroom, usually with baby in tow and attached, and do the one-handed-triple Lightfoot deodorant roll-on technique (1) which I've perfected at this point - hey, speaking of, maybe this should be a new Olympic sport- After all, I get more and more agile everyday and keep breaking my own record. I'd definitely get the gold people.

Okay, so it's official, I really must be insane because, in spite of all of this unabashed, ear-piercing balling, I've been in battle with my ovaries over a third child - my ovies nag at me every once in awhile like they're whispering (2) (English 101 people- personification)

"Have a third child."

I respond,

"No, please leave me alone. This is too weird; talking ovaries?"

ovies respond, in unison, in their little Oompa-Loompa voices,

"We're ready when you are. Come on, embrace the chaos."

Well, I've chalked this up, not to psychosis yet, but to an overload of hormones. I'm sure this urge to perpetuate my genes will grow more and more silent as Libby and Chloe get older and even more demanding. At least, lets hope. Otherwise a new sport will be on the rise and the Ovulation Olympics will soon be born with a bang! (no pun intended)

Oh, my poor, poor husband.


1.) Patent Pending

2.) No, my ovaries don't really talk to me and I don't see dead people or anything. Well, maybe the latter. I have gazed upon the dead staring back at me while executing the one-handed- triple Lightfoot roll-on technique while assuring Chloe that she'll get her precious juice while trying to walk in a manner so that Libby doesn't feel as if she's nursing on the high seas.