Do you know---and maybe this only amazes me because I am some sort of unatural mother---some mothers actually cried at the end of summer?
I? Was completely not one of them.
Now, starting school, especially a hallmark moment like first day of kindergarten, I can understand tears. Your baby is growing up, or your baby is upset. Of course we feel it.
I mean, I admit it, I didn't cry. Not one tear. Didn't even feel a lurch as the kids walked in to the classroom without a backward glance. I'm immune to it because we've been doing this a while.
But how many of you are not just a little bit glad to get the chance to miss your kids? That's how I view it. We appreciate one another so much more due to this wonderful opportunity to miss one another. You see, I can make it sound GREAT!
In truth, I think after being together 24/7 this entire summer...they are as ready as I am for a new venue. We're both ready for the challenge to be with someone else somewhere else.
But, some moms were really going to miss having the kids home---all day, every day---for the summer. And let's respect that point of view. So I clicked and clucked and hmmmed in false sympathy while they bemoaned having to give up their kids all day to the school.
Still, I wondered whether this could be for real.
So I devised a test question, "Well, you know...you could always homeschool, right?"
Yes, you guessed it, 99% of the time they left streaks they backtracked so fast.
One mom did have a legitimate beef, "Summers are more easygoing. When school starts so do all the activities, and with three kids, in two activities each, I live in my car. It's so busy all I do is go go go all day. Hurrying to get to one acitivity and then sitting there, in the car, waiting, usually with a kid griping about also having to wait."
This I can grasp.
I think in general moms and kids are glad for the change, the break, although we might not so much welcome the new schedule and other life challenges it brings. And I think many of us do genuinely feel a little loss.
In short, though, you should understand, I am simply not distraught that my kids are gone right now. They are having a blast with friends in the class learning things and enjoying themselves. I am so glad that other people are contributing to my children's lives.
Right this minute. Someone else. Not me.
Me? I'm writing in my blog. Sipping tea. Nobody is calling my name. Nobody is whining, fighting, hitting, debating proprietary rights, conducting any science experiments using my house and my things, whining (did I say that one already), seeking entertainment...incessantly asking for food...
Excuse me, are you snickering at me?
Now you know I love my kids. Deeply and truly, albeit also a bit madly.
But you've met them, right?
Let's recall briefly a few stellar moments in the last couple of months:
The Great Barbie Flush aka Barbie's Porcelain Whirlpool
Learning Necropsy versus Autopsy and "Honest Officer, she was always a Sweet Child, I never had any clue there were any odd tendencies."
Just when you think it is safe to go back in the toilet water...excuse me, is that WHITE POO?
Someone call MIT...new data on the rate plastic bacon melts on a lightbulb
They lead a very interesting life.
And they have been home, with me, all day, every day. Leading an interesting life. In fact, so interesting, I felt a bit like a helicopter or hoover always hovering over or hoovering up behind them.
That is what I did with my summer, folks. That is why my blog has been suspiciously quiet.
Allow me to share one day---and feel free to extrapolate this across the summer, to every day, because that will be a pretty accurate picture. And pictures it will be since they are worth a thousand words. This will show you why leaving my children alone is simply not possible. And even supervised...they still sometimes get the upper hand.
(I use that word "sometimes" loosely, of course, meaning really, too often for my own comfort. And that laughter? I know you are laughing with me.)
Dunh dunh dunh dunh duuuunnnhhh <--- little theme noise to set the mood.
Still on the loose.
Mommy got to deep clean the living room. And while I did, The Culprit escaped jail and repeated her crime upstairs.
I learned two things:
1. I can't win. They outnumber and out-think me. They haven't lost brain cells due to pregnancy and childbirth. I must use my greater size, age and more vast experience. I must employ even greater patience and persistance than my precious daughters. And ship them off to school.
2. Inhaling large quantities of baby powder makes me very, very ill. I'm too embarassed to ask for that allergy test. It's an easy thing to avoid.
My solution was to say, "I know you are interested in this, and that's cool...next time you want to play with it, please ask me, and I'll work with you, we'll find an okay way for you to play with it."
That worked once.
Patience critiqued it thusly, "You know, this just isn't as fun as when I got to pour it out myself, and it went everywhere like snow!"
You see? I must be crazy...but crazy like a fox.
By Julie Pippert
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