Summer Bummer

Summer break, man.

I remember when I was really little and my mom was all, "I enjoy having you home for the summer! I don't understand why people gripe about spending so much time around their kids." It made me feel so warm inside. Like I had the best, most loving mom ever.

I, on the other hand? Am clearly not that fantastic. Because we're like half a week into summer break and all this togetherness is wearing on my nerves like a belt sander. The boys play nicely together for approximately twenty minutes a day; the rest is spent bickering, tattling, whining, begging, and making a mess. Oh and tattling.

And did I mention tattling?

In the past few days, they've tattled so much that they've resorted to tattling about nothing. Or is it actually everything? I've heard, "Momm-meeeee, my brother is peeing in the wrong position!" and, "Momm-meeeeee, my brother is putting his penis in the crackers!"

To top it off, there's a new kid in the neighborhood. He's about 9 and is allowed to ride his bike around by himself, all day, wherever he pleases - whereas I don't even let my kids go outside unattended, and when they ride their bikes they can only go one block in either direction. Anyway, this kid is constantly knocking at the door wanting the boys to come out and play. (Multiple. Times. A. Day. Every. Single. Day.) And if we don't answer, he's peeping in the window. And he doesn't seem to get that I don't always have the time (or, let's be real, the desire) to come outside and supervise five little boys playing. But then when I decline his "gracious" invitations to play, I get to hear my boys all moan and cry for like twenty minutes.

Being that it's summer, they watch more TV than usual. And therefore, more commercials. And they want every-damn-thing that flashes onto the screen: the Stompeez, the Bright Light Pillow, the Ice Cream Magic thingies, the Dreamlites. "Mommy!" they shriek as the eighteen-hundredth ad comes on. "I want that! So much! Can we please get one of those?!"

My standard response is either "Maybe for your birthday," or "Ask Santa."

Anyway, the other day Curtis called to say he'd be working late - and that meant I'd have to take all four of them to the gym while I taught Zumba. Needless to say, I was in a rush to get them all ready. If you know anything about my kids, you know that they're perpetually naked, so of course I had to get them dressed.

But when I opened the drawer? It was empty.

I opened another drawer. And another. Everything was gone. All their clothes, vanished.


I stood there baffled and blinking, like I might have been tripping or something and a few deep breaths would clear it up. But of course it didn't.

Then here came Coby, my three-year-old, dragging a ... what the ...?

It was this:

An infant Halloween costume that everybody has outgrown. But it looked oddly ... puffy. And then I realized where the clothes were.

"It's a Tummy Stuffer!" Coby said proudly.

Have you seen those? It's basically, like, an animal-shaped sack that your kids can stuff with whatever crap they can put in there.

And knowing my kids, that may literally be crap.

But since I'm not spending twenty bucks on an animal sack, apparently Coby decided to improvise. And stuff his makeshift "stuffer" with every. Piece. Of clothing. In the drawers.

Bye-bye sorting.

Bye-bye folding.

Bye-bye organization.

Is it fall yet? I'm losing it, y'all. You know I love the dudes with every fiber of my being, but ... damn.

OH! And PS ...

I'm excited to be reviewing this soon:

From the JumpStart peeps, who I utterly adore, it's a brand-new app for iTunes and Android! Hours of entertaining, physics-based gameplay with the lovable Madagascar characters. Over eighty levels of math missions, ranging from first to fourth grade. Sweet! The app's official launch date is June 5th, so check back soon for the review. :)


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