Friday, June 18, 2010

Summer Break Down

I love summer, despite the blasting sun that scorches my children's virgin cheeks and ages me exponentially. It's all splishy splash in the back yard with gleeful shrieks and Sly and the Family Stone's "Hot Fun in the Summertime" blasting on the IPod. A glass of wine while the barbeque heats up; the cat chasing gnats and mini footballs; the kids drawing with chalk on the driveway and eating whole watermelons in an afternoon. What a lovely time of year- unless you are me with the kids home for Summer Break.
I will not say that I have had a "fun" couple of weeks with kids home. There have been moments of fun,where I can say that I was actively having a good time,but they were so heavily peppered with such un-fun moments that I am a little concerned about what will happen for the entire month of August.Thank God we fly for six hours,followed by two hours of driving, to go to the Jersey Shore and stay with cousins and Grandmoms.Without that to look forward to, I might go mad.
My kids, three and five, are actually really fun,amazingly smart, sweet, well behaved and easy to be around. Yet, somehow, in these last two weeks, they really turned me into mommy carpaccio.Despite all the splishy splash, there was A LOT of whining.I hate whining.It is my Achilles heel, my Kryptonite. In the face of my whining child, I come undone.I become a useless,quivering blob of rage.I become the angriest dog in the world-(if you can't read the caption, it says" The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis"):

For the last ten days, I've gotten nothing done.Zero. Didn't write, pay a bill,exercise, return a phone call, laundry, grocery shopping-nothing. They never left me alone. The word "Mommy" was literally spoken,yelled or whined about every seven seconds, from seven a.m. to seven p.m. for ten straight days, and we aren't done yet. We still have one glorious weekend to look forward to. There were points where I icily requested that they call me something else, just to change up the torture method.
Obviously, I exaggerate a wee bit. I had my sister babysit for a couple of hours so I could shop for party supplies, and we had some family dinners, and a big birthday party-all of which were lovely events. I still woke up every morning at the crack of dawn and faced the day with two little girls expecting the fucking sun,moon and stars and really wasn't in the mood to deliver any of it. I think they must be getting too much of a good thing at school, and how can I compete? There was A LOT of talking back. There was A LOT of not so gleeful shrieking. And I am sick of summer already. Just the battle alone to get the non life threatening sunscreen applied and a hat on before going into the roasting ten o'clock sun for the day is enough to make me want to retreat to the bedroom and leave them in front of "Das Boot"- totally inappropriate content, I know, but the longest movie I can think of.I miss my time to myself, and it is driving me bonkers.And did I mention the whining? Big is more reasonable and will generally come to my way of thinking but Little, oh, MAN-as stubborn as an OX and will not see it my way for HOURS AND HOURS. She will whine until my ears bleed and then some. Consequently, I did a lot of yelling. I know that yelling accomplishes nothing, but it feels better than hitting something or driving away,which are two other options that float into my head when fully exasperated by a three year old. I turned on the TV way too much because I got tired of yelling,which made me feel guilty, but it was the only way I could get through the next hour without having my own adult style meltdown. I felt very twelve step-one day at a time,but really it was one hour at a time. I hissed, I made idle threats, I did everything that my predecessors did, even though I remember snickering at my poor mother's vain attempts to get us to behave by threatening to send us to the orphanage. The first time she said it, we sat up a little straighter,but quickly realized that it was desperation talking and went on about our business of annoying the shit out of her. I was reminded of my favorite Scorsese movie "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore" when she pulls over and makes her fifth grade son get out of the car. I actually made the same threat while on Santa Monica Boulevard in heavy traffic because Big kept kicking Little and screaming for her to stop singing. Being a child born in this century, however, Big insisited that I take it back as it wasn't very nice to talk that way to a small child. Thanks, nursery school, for all the self confidence- really, thanks a lot. I actually felt badly afterward even though I didn't even pull over or anything. What is a modern parent to do?
Camp begins Monday, and I will literally be dancing a jig as the door closes on my empty house. I will roll, like Demi Moore, in the pile of laundry that I can fold in peace. I will take as much time as I want in the bathroom, grocery shop without chaos, and have coffee with a friend where the discussions do not involve princesses or why Big can't change her name to Tiana.I can't wait to be alone in my own house.

1 comment:

  1. i am sending you a big, unwhiny hug! Hilarious!!!

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