No more pencils, no more books
No more teacher’s dirty looks!
Now there’s chores and now there’s lists
Wait, why’s my mom clenching her fists?!
Welcome to Summer 2013! School’s out, the kids are home, the sun is shining and I’m back to my blog. It’s been a bit of a hectic year and a lot of things have been shoved to the back burner. Hell, let’s be real. They’ve been moved off the stove top altogether! But the summer break brings time for reflection and hopefully more time for writing.
When I jumped out of the world of employment six years ago I will admit I was a little worried about boredom. I’d been gainfully employed for years and couldn’t imagine a life with no morning commute, no quick dash to Starbucks, no talking myself out of stopping for a Bacon, Egg & Cheese biscuit at McCrack’s. (Okay, that would still happen.)
But after a long discussion with my other half, we collectively decided it was in our best interest to nominate me as the new Housewife of Suburb Land. And as for my worry? Hah! Boredom? I scoff at the word! (Imagine me slapping boredom in the face with my driving gloves. Because, frickin’ A, housewives drive a lot!)
In all our preparatory discussions, I hadn’t even considered Summertime. Oy vey. Summertime.
Let me clarify: I love my kids. I love my life. I love being home and I love having the chance to spend a bazillion hours with my family.
Summertime is no joke. These kids are everywhere. They’re in the living room draped across the couch. They’re in the kitchen searching through the fridge. They’re in the bathroom straightening their hair. And I only have two! It’s like the Summer solstice causes some freaky regeneration process creating new kids! I trip over the daughter in the living room on my way to the bathroom and then realize she’s locked me out of there so she can put on her lipgloss for the umpteenth time. How did she get in there? Wouldn’t I have seen her pass me in the hallway? I don’t get it.
So there I stand, in the apex of the great room watching my young’uns shift from space to space, a gigantic glass of wine in my hand willing myself to not start praying for September. And then I remember the long summer days I spent as a kid, knowing my days were free and my responsibilities were none and feel a surge of joy that my own kids get to experience that same feeling.
September can wait.