Excuses, excuses

Yes, I am still alive.

Barely.

As for my unexplained absence from the computer, I have some good excuses.

Wanna hear them? (Of course you do. I know you do. Why else do you come to my blog?)

Remember how we decided to homeschool? And how I worried that I was going to go a little crazy? Yeah. So here's the thing. I'm still convinced it's the right decision for our family, but I also think it's going to end up the kind of full-blown crazy that only my family can pull off.

We're homeschooling using k12. The great thing about it is that all your curriculum for the whole year is shipped to you free at the beginning of the school year. Some of the instruction is done online, but all the reading books, science experiments, and even a blow-up globe ended up on our porch on Monday afternoon courtesy of the UPS guy. My husband took one look at all the stuff strewn everywhere and quipped, "Are you sure they didn't send you everything for K through 12?"

I had great dreams of getting everything perfectly organized, catalogued, and ready for a grand and ceremonious start. The girls thought Monday's delivery was Christmas and wanted all the boxes opened at once. Abby begged to start homeschooling atleast 572 times before Monday was over. it was as good a time as any to introduce her to the word "perseverate."

This is what my floor looked like Monday afternoon. And this is after we unpacked two full boxes. Do me a favor and ignore the pile of laundry on the floor. I seem to have forgotten how much laundry is involved in a household of six, and Mt Idon'twannafoldlaundry had once again grown to epic proportions.

So now, two days later, we've worked on English literature, Math, Science, and Art. Still to come is grammar, vocabulary, spelling, and history. (Sheesh!) I'm still trying to figure out how the puzzle pieces all fit, and how we're going to do all of that plus the hours of practicing and lessons. Like I said, I had grand intentions of getting completely organized, and was going to type and display lists and schedules and lists of schedules, but since this is the first time in a week I've had a chance to sit down at the computer, naturally I'm blogging about it instead.

So why besides the pile of curriculum in my front room have I not been able to accomplish anything, you ask? Let me show you one little picture.

Yes, this would be my darling Ian, who at the time of this picture had just discovered the wonders of watermelon, taco meat, and fresh guacamole eaten off a spoon.

He looks very sweet. Looks are deceiving.

Remember how he was the easy baby? The baby that slept? Well, now it's all about Ian's revenge.

This little boy seems to have forgotten what it means to sleep, or at least sleep consistently. Where I used to be able to set a stopwatch by his naptimes, now we could have a two and a half hour nap, or a five minute nap. Who knows. And once he finally decides to wind down and sleep at night, I could be required to put him back to sleep 1-4 times or more before I finally give up and go to bed myself.

He's crawling everywhere, but his favorite is cruising along the furniture and walls at alarming speed. Today he reached the dubious milestone of learning to unroll entire rolls of toilet paper. Sigh.

And with all those milestones comes the sheer delight of separation anxiet and we have a wicked case in full swing. With three others, I thought I had seen my share of it, but this one might be the worst. Or maybe I've blocked out all the others, which is a distinct possibility. What I didn't remember is constantly having a weepy, sad, whining baby pulling himself up on your leg, or having that same clingy cling monster scream and try desperately to climb out of the shopping cart and into your arms in the grocery store just because a stranger dared to say "Hi" to him.

So I'm tired. Much too tired. Like probably more tired than when he was a newborn tired. And I know it will pass, and I have high hopes that he'll eventually sleep and that I won't have to nurse him back to sleep every 45 minutes all night long. (Last night I was half asleep and telling Ian "There's no more milk, baby, it's all gone." If only you could reason with an 8 month old...)

So tell me it will get better. Tell me I won't always feel this overwhelmed about homeschooling. Tell me I will sleep again someday. Tell me you're bringing me chocolate and Diet Coke. Tell me my husband might someday stop traveling. Tell me you understand. Tell me a joke. Tell me anything! (I might be a bit starved for adult interaction, can ya tell?)