We have 3 weeks left of summer - well, the kids do anyway. Us grown-ups can continue to wade in the kiddie pool, eat popsicles and run around in our bathing suits until September 21st, if we so desire. Right now, that is looking like a mighty fine idea.
Some of my friends are coping by drinking lemonade with vodka. I won't mention any names.
Me? I tried to sit down to dinner last night (while my husband is in Napa on an all inclusive, paid for wine weekend with his brother) with a nice glass of wine. Normally, I don't drink white wine, but I found this bottle in the refrigerator and figured, hey - since he's probably drinking wine, I'll join him in spirit.
So I uncorked the bottle and filled up a glass. I noticed a little crack on the bottle, but since I couldn't actually feel it, I decided that the wine had not been exposed to air and spoiled. I know, my logic - it is amazing!
Maybe it had gone bad, maybe I just don't drink enough white wine to tell, but it was horrible. By the time I made the decision not to drink it, my caprese salad was almost finished and although opening one of my favorite bottles of red was enticing, I didn't think pinot would pair very well with the ice cream sandwiches my kids were waiting to share with me.
Wyatt stands over my shoulder. I ask him what he's doing, and he says, "Just waiting for something to happen."
McRae has complained that his sister is breaking all of his "things." When I asked him what things he was talking about - note that he is in her room the whole time - he said, "My legos." He is talking about the Duplo starter legos that all of the kids have enjoyed and have been passed down to his sister ever since she stopped putting each and every object she encountered into her mouth.
Katie insists on wearing a pair of roller blades 3 sizes too big, and then tromping through the house with them on.
People are locking other people out of rooms.
In a weak moment last spring, I bought a Tim McGraw cd because I was feeling nostalgic (or was it crazy?) for my college days in hick town when I saw him perform at a rodeo. Now, my son has found it and insists on playing it on his cd player as loud as he can. It is my own personal hell.
The hose keeps getting turned on, even though I've threatened to take the kids savings and use it to pay the water bill.
I am thinking I should contact some of you who live in The South, since your kids have already gone back to school, and see if we can come up with some kind of a trade. I'll take your kids in the beginning of summer, when mine are still in school - to give you a little break and a few weeks of sanity. In return, you take my kids at the end of summer when your kids are at school, providing me with some much needed down time. Of course, our children would attend school with each other - so that you wouldn't have to bear witness to these "I'm bored!" "He touched me!" "She breathed my air!" days that make up the dog days of summer.
It's a win-win situation.
So I'll sit and I'll wait. I'll stare longingly at my wine rack and I just might take my friends advice and make up a batch of lemonade. . .
Let's just hope I don't end up giving the kids the spiked one. Because right now, anything is possible.
Perhaps I'm just a wee bit annoyed that my husband is in Napa, being chauffeured around, dining in caves, learning about grapes, tasting wine, getting massages and staying in a 5-star hotel.
Perhaps if he would not call me eleventy times a day to rub it all in, I would be coping better, I would be less grumpy and I would be enjoying the end of summer and my time as a single parent a little bit more.
All I can say is that he better bring home a bottle of wine . . . or two.
And they better not be white!