This summer… I think it broke me. I thought after having two children under the age of 4 in the house at the same time and making it out the other end of two doses of terrible twos and terrorist threes with enough of my sanity in tact not to think toenail clippings are a delicacy, I could handle ANYTHING. My oh my, how wrong I was.
The first week I thought “Yay! Summer is going to be awesome!” There would be no more drop offs or pick ups or battles with minivan driving parking spot stealers. No more waking up at 7 or earlier every single morning and worrying the well-dressed school staff will get a glimpse at my scraggly pajamas because fuck if I’m going to get dressed for the day just to drive around the corner. No more HOMEWORK! Dear God, how I still loathe homework and how much having to help a Kindergartner with it brought back a wave of those feelings. Holden’s a pretty cool and mellow kid and now I’ll get to have him home to hang out with for three months and it’ll be like the good ol’ days!
The second week, I realized just how fucking STUPID I was for ever thinking ANY of that! When you get woken up early during the summer, and for some reason little kids suck and love mornings and WILL wake you up, it’s even more frustrating than having to wake up for school. At least school was a reason to be dragged out of bed. Two kids home instead of one isn’t fun when ALL THEY DO IS FIGHT because they are no longer used to being around each other nonstop and have finally realized just how annoying the other one is.
I even wrote a POEM, yes a POEM, about how maddening summer “vacation” is. It ain’t a vacation for ME- I’m still mom 24/7. It’s a vacation for THEM: the children. A vacation from manners, patience, sweetness, bed times, sanity… it’s theirs.
The month of June honestly felt like it would NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER end. That’s a lot of evers, but for real- that shit lasted for EVER. It took FOREVER to get on some kind of routine schedule, to deal with the kids not being able to deal with each other- and then, just like that, June was over and here it is the last day of August and I’m left thinking- what the fuck just happened? Where did the summer go? Is school SERIOUSLY starting next week?
But… but…. but…. I didn’t get enough time! I’m going to miss him! I need… MORE SUMMER!
What in the hell did I just say? Did I just have a stroke? Am I hallucinating? Are you even reading this right now? Did I die? What is WRONG with me?
To add insult to injury- today the boys actually got along. And when I say “got along”- I mean they LOVED each other. Real love! Not the fake shit they pull in front of other people to make me look insane, but like they sat down and purposely played together WITHOUT FIGHTING.
Right then, I felt it. I felt my last shred of sanity leave my body.
I’m broken. Summer break literally broke me, and it only took ONE!
There is really only one thing to do when faced with such emotional and mental turmoil over the swift ending of summer, our babies entering a higher grade, and the return of evil minivan mom and parking lot rage:
That’s right, I’m encouraging drinking. We deserve it.
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.