End of Days

Warning: This post brought to you by hormones. Or possibly, the rain. It's hard to know which is more responsible.

Last week my facebook status said something along the lines that I was so incredibly grateful for that hour in between when my oldest leaves for school and when the other two get up. That hour, oh that blessed hour, when I could sneak back into my bed (still warm) and take a nap before getting up and doing it all over again.

The other day, my friend Kim reminded me that Tuesday would be my last "real" day of peace and quiet before the kids get out for summer vacation on Friday. Oh, how I loved Tuesday (until the kids came home). I did as little as possible - within reason. My husband was on shift, my kids were in school, and the weather outside was in no way, shape or form inviting. As we all know here in Washington, the weather has (I'll put it mildly) sucked this spring.

It is still spring right? Only 4 more days until officially summer?

You'd never know around here, where we bundle up in fleece, can't wear flip flops and have yet to remove the heat blanket from our beds. Oh yes, in typical Northwest fashion, our spring weather is living up to everyones stereotypical notion that it rains all the time. I'm not ready to start taking vitamin D supplements just yet. I'm still holding out for some sunshine, but I'm getting rather impatient.

Anyway.

The weather stinks. The kids are still in school for two more days and I haven't lost a single pound even with all this walking I've been doing.

(Might help if I quit eating cheeseburgers)

(And drinking wine)

(And eating brownies)

Yesterday my kids were warned no more than eight times to be kind to one another. I couldn't even take a shower without hearing a symphony of screaming beyond my bathroom door which, if I ever build a custom home, will be made of soundproof material. That way, I don't have to listen to the kids hashing it out OR the dog whining to be let in out of the rain. Win-win situation.

It got so bad I used my mean mom voice. You know the one...it makes your throat hurt because you yelled so loudly, "All I want is peace and quiet!" Key word: yelled. You know you've gone off your rocker when you have to yell for peace and quiet.

The whole day left me scratching my head and wondering to myself why I hadn't signed my children up to spend the summer away from me, perhaps at one of those summer camps where the Friday the Thirteenth movies were filmed. And also, where is my vodka hiding?

And summer hasn't even begun.

The end of days is near. Soon the kids will be home 24/7. The dog will stop being depressed when they walk out the door each morning, which is a really good thing, but I will have lost any notion of alone time. It will cease to exist. Gone. Nada.

On the upside, I won't have to get up and make lunches at o'dark thirty. I won't have to keep track of a million notices from school each week and there will be no field trips to send a check in for. No more volunteer days in the noisy kindergarten classroom and no more surprise projects that need to be completed the night before.

Potentially, it could be a great summer, full of swimming, hiking, fishing, carnivals, camping and just hanging out building forts in the back yard. But if my children can't master the art of peace and quiet, I think none of that will happen.

There will be no fun.

And there will be no quiet showers.

No more naps and no more listening to the sound of silence.

Oh sun, where art thou? The end of days is near and I need more than a soggy backyard and a few puddles to kick off our summer.

Post Edit for my mother: Shortly after leaving their sisters performance (when they told you they'd been doing nothing but getting along all day) last night, the boys promptly returned to their old tricks of putting snails down each other's pants and then someone got kicked. Needless to say, it was early to bed for both of them.