We've made it just past the one month mark into summer vacation and I think it's high time to commence a little complaining.
In summers past, I wasn't chomping at the bit quite as frequently as I have been this year and I've spent countless hours trying to figure out why. Is it because my kids have reached some sort of behavioral apex this summer? Is it because the weather was not summerlike for the first few weeks? Are they watching too much TV? Is it because they ate red Popsicles?
I'm not sure I will ever know.
But one thing is for sure. These kids of mine are busy, screaming, crazy beasts and there are days that, no matter how brightly the sun is shining or how loudly the robins are chirping in the trees outside my bedroom window, I don't even want to get out of bed. They are wearing me out.
There must be something wrong with me.
When they were little, I used to dream of the day when they could go out of the house alone, unassisted, to explore the world surrounding us just like I did as a child. I pictured myself, clad in a frilly apron or something, dusting my blinds with a feather duster and not a hair out of place on my head, a permanent smile affixed to my face that had nothing whatsoever to do with vodka consumption. They would return at the end of their long days spent catching tadpoles and chasing chipmunks, faces full of smiles and stories about all the wonderful things they did that day.
Yes, it's a dream - just try to picture it.
Now that they are of the age where they do have a little more freedom than when they were, say, toddlers, I'm eating my words.
For example, nobody ever told me that sending a couple of boys fishing would be so much drama. While fishing is itself a wholesome activity for middle school-aged kids, it's a lot of work. Especially if you're the parent. And while I was whole heartedly proud of my son and the neighbor boy for building their own boat this spring, I'm whole heartedly tired of hearing about fishing or being asked when they can go fishing. Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom when can I go fishing? Listen boys, I'm sorry you aren't old enough to drive, but there is no way I'm structuring each and every day around whether the fishing (for you) is good or not. It just isn't going to happen. So take your 2 feet, take your poles, walk to the lake and go fish.
Sand. I also have an issue with sand this summer. Yes, I love that they spend time at the beach while I'm stuck at home working in the office at my part-time job - lucky them - BUT can you please leave the sand at the beach thankyouverymuch? Is it so much to ask? I'm worried the sand is going to break my front loaders and if that happens there will not be enough vodka in the world (not even in France) to fix that problem.
Bedtimes. Who cares about bedtimes in the summer? I do. There is no conceivable reason that kids should be up until 11pm every live long night. No. Reason. I don't care if they're playing a Deadliest Catch marathon on The Discovery Channel or if the President is giving a press conference - go to bed. Because you know what happens when kids don't go to bed at a decent hour? Oh yes, mommy doesn't get any alone grown-up time and you know what happens when mommy doesn't' get any alone grown-up time? She looses her mind.
Snacking. Why are you people constantly so hungry? It's like you all have a hollow leg. The constant I'm hungry I'm hungry I'm hungry is enough to drive the most patient of mothers right off the edge of that cliff (yes, that one, right over there). Besides, I'm trying to loose weight, not put it on, so having you around me, snacking like there's no tomorrow is not working out too well. Maybe one of you will grow up to be a successful plastic surgeon and hook your mama up with a little liposuction so I won't have to worry about the numerous muffin tops inhabiting my middle - but until then, lay off the snacking.
One more thing - laundry. Because what kind of rant would this be if it didn't mention laundry at least once? Please don't put clean clothes in the hamper with the dirty clothes. Is this too much to ask? Wearing something for 5 minutes does not make it dirty. Unless, of course, you spill ketchup on said clothing item. No ketchup? Not dirty. I think you're all mature enough to understand that. Shall I repeat myself? No ketchup? Not dirty.
There, I'm glad we've got that straightened out.
The good news is that the kids' godparents are taking them for an entire weekend - an ENTIRE WEEKEND - before summer ends. To celebrate while they're gone I think I will sleep whenever I feel like it, drink whenever I feel like it, and go to the bathroom with the door wide open.