What Rhymes with "Bummer?"
Seeing as my oldest just got out of Kindergarten, this is my first experience with summer vacation. As a parent, I mean. And as much as I loved - nay, lived for - summer vacation as a kid, I never imagined loathing it this much. Ever.
But oh. My. Lord.
I have just one thing to say: IS IT OVER YET??
I know. Saying that probably makes me a terrible mom. I know there are moms out there who are all, "I'm so glad my kids are on summer break! It's so nice to have them home!"
I'll tell you something right now: the moms who say that are the moms whose children actually get along for more than twelve seconds at a time.
When Colin went to school, I was worried. I was like, "Wow. What am I going to do without him here?" If you'll recall, I cried all throughout his first day. In the beginning, I felt like something was missing. But then? I grew to appreciate it. Not that I don't love my son, but with his penchant for pestering, I realized that he is the antagonist in at least 85% of the sibling conflicts around this house. And without that, it was relatively peaceful for seven hours a day.
Now it's arguing and shrieking, nearly nonstop. Tattles and shoving matches. Whining and complaining. I've never said, "Leave your brother alone!" more times in my life.
And when they're not fighting? They're using their collective brain power to come up with "innovative" new ideas for things to play. Such as, for example, "snowstorm" ... in which Colin climbed up to the top bunk and loaded the ceiling fan blades with TONS of tiny wads of toilet paper, and then Cameron flipped the switch so the fan would move, and voila - all the toilet paper "snowflakes" came swirling down.
All. Over. Their floor.
I know a better, more patient mom would have a roster of fun activities to keep their boredom at bay. But that involves ... crafts. And projects. And messes. And y'all know how I am with such things. The other day I let them make their own ice cream in individual baggies (a recipe I got here). It was admittedly fun ... until Cameron accidentally punched a hole in his bag and spilled salty ice water all over the kitchen. I was scrubbing up salt crystals for like half an hour.
Despite their wonderful made-up games, and my feeble attempts at fun stuff, I still hear the dreaded, "We're booooooored!" about a hundred and two times a day. It doesn't help that it won't stop raining for more than twenty-four hours at a time. And on a near-daily basis, without fail, Colin asks me if it's a school day yet.
As much as I wish I could say, "Yes it is! See you later!" ... I have to say, "Not yet, buddy. It'll be a while."
And then I silently count the days. Only 63 to go ......