Category Archives: Surviving Summer Funtimes

Surviving Summer Fun Times YOU ARE NOT ALONE

Humor, Parenting, Surviving Summer Funtimes 
Wondering about the great life decisions I made to get to this point? Check out the last Sweet Summer Funtimes update here.

This week’s tired analogy: Summer is Groundhog Day.  (The movie, not the holiday, although I’m not counting out that soon I will have reason to write that summer is like the holiday.) Repeatedly making sure everyone gets to their fun activities, making sure the house is still functioning and everybody is fed, things are taking care of. You know, the adult stuff, the stuff that reminds you that in large part, summer just isn’t the same as an adult. So, in an effort to prepare my children for adulthood, every day I yell say forcefully, “Pay attention and enjoy it while it lasts, kids, because when you’re my age in a million years, you still have responsibilities and you can’t do them with chocolate ice cream smeared all over your face!”

It is also like Groundhog Day because my son and daughter talk Minecraft nonstop. I’m convinced they’re just saying the same thing over and over again. Crafting, Redstone, Blocks, Building, Zombies, Rabbits.  I don’t know what they talking about, but I can leave the room while they are mid-sentence  and come back three hours later and they’re still talking about this game, probably still in the same sentence they were on when I left. They insist they are making progress or leveling up or winning or whatever indicates that the game actually has a point.

Craaaaaaamps. How much time do you really make your kids wait between eating and swimming. Asking for me. I don’t worry as much about them cramping up (because they do have just enough sense to stop swimming for that) as I do them spitting up (which is something by which I will not abide if I can help it.)

My boys went to a birthday party this week. Birthdays are pure joy for kids, and I like when my kids can help celebrate with another child. The only snag is that it usually involves my wrapping presents. I’ve got some sort of wrapping curse, and I’m wary of gift bags mostly because I’ve heard parents complaining about them – they’re “cheap” and look like there’s “no effort” – which in my case is completely true. But I need the “no effort” because my effort at wrapping is “shitty” and “why bother.” And frankly, as I give humans enough reasons to complain about me, I don’t need to add to the list unnecessarily.

I used wrapping paper for the board game, only had kind we had the cheap kind of paper, not the cheapest but pretty cheap, it always feels a little… damp. So it’s hard to wrangle into place. The second gift was shaped like an extra-credit question on a geometry exam and I did not have a box to put it in, so I used a gift bag. I tried to make up for that egregious misstep it by putting a shit ton (metric) of tissue paper in there. It looked okay actually. On the way there, the gift bag fell off the car seat and onto the floor upside down, spilling out gift and paper. So when we arrived at the party, I crammed it all back in and prayed for forgiveness.

It’s like the Pinterest gods mock me.

The kids watched Sunday Morning with us this week. Mostly they are entertained by the medicine commercials’ roving list of side effects, but occasionally the children are inspired. This week’s episode ran, or perhaps reran, a segment about children’s competitive cup stacking. And I groaned because I knew what was coming next: my kids dug out their cup stacking kit (that had remained dormant in their closet for months) and began cup stacking obsessively for hours. Sunday Morning made cup stacking even sexier to my kids when they implied that it helps with focus and it may help with math. I’d like to see the research on that. I do know that cup stacking does not help with mental health. Clack, clack, clack.

The kids are getting along so well that when one got a time out for reasons involving armpit farts and selective hearing, the other two children joined him and kept him company while he paid his debt to society. It warmed my heart a little bit, quelling the “I’m a bad parent because my kid is a maestro armpit farter” a tad.

And thus we survive and we laugh, despite a veritable flood all over town and in our backyard (we live in the flood plain) which has kept us from picnicking and playing baseball for a while.

My backyard, now a home for wayward ducks.

There’s always ice cream. (I recommend this if you like making your own!)

Sweet Summer Funtimes — And the Living is Mumblety Mumbelty

Creative non-fiction, Humor, Parenting, Surviving Summer Funtimes 
Wondering about the great life decisions I made to get to this point? Check out the last Sweet Summer Funtimes update here.

Day 25 – One son was up at 5:00 in the morning moaning and sniffling because his nose was stuffed up. Yet for some reason he refused to blow his nose, preferring to act as some sort of horrific alarm clock of misery for the rest of us. When I finally marched in there and forced him to blow his nose, he was fine. Not stuffy at all. For the rest of a day he enjoyed and I stumbled through, bleary-eyed.

It was Reptile Day at my daughter’s camp. Reptile. Day. Seeing this on the calendar sent her into fits of apoplexy. She envisioned slo-mo attacks from prehistoric critters like camp was suddenly going to be gladiator situation. She did not have fun that day. I’m sure some kids did. Kind of kids whose parents let them have reptiles in the house as or dinner.

Day 26– This morning the weather was a balmy 60 degrees and raining. The boys insisted on wearing shorts to camp. I think it’s some sort of warm light/macho/Braveheart thing. I’m just not sure how it’s those things. Meanwhile, I’m in a sweater.

They’ve taken it upon themselves to practice the piano for over five hours a day on and off. When they’re not playing “Clocks”,

they’re trying to figure out pieces with the hunt-and-peck method, which I do not recommend to anybody who has an eardrum. Occasionally they take a break from banging on two different pianos of the house so they can play Rock Band. My children have many gifts, but the gifts of Rock Band mastery and tone accuracy are not among them. (Un)fortunately, the ability not to get bored singing “R-O-C-K in the U.S.A” 100 times in a row is one of them. I know some of you are saying “Encourage them! It’s wonderful! I have to force my children to practice piano.” To which I say, after much twitching, there has to be a middle ground. I think we’re fighting on the same side this war. It’s a War on Sanity.

Day 27 – Camp drop-off can be a shit show. No matter how early we all get up, for some reason, it’s a race out the door. Once at the various camp drop-off points, it’s a demolition derby, aided and abetted by strollers 2 or 3 across (two separate moms), and dogs, and the crying kids, and the campers who all crowd the sidewalk, making my hasty escape rather difficult.

It’s ok, though. I’m perfectly delightful because of all that. Like, camp drop-off delightful.

Day 28 –  Took the youngest to gymnastics. We continued her classes to keep her skills up because God forbid she loses all momentum on her falling down every three seconds into a foam pit. I sit for an hour in a loud, smelly, hot gym and watch my daughter making sure I’m watching her every move. I made the mistake of looking down at some point because I thought perhaps I’d caught fire, and another kindly let me know that my daughter was trying to get my attention and didn’t she at least deserve that?

It’s like taking them to the pool without the trench foot.

Day 29 – No sleep because everyone in the house, including the dog, snores. I may have taken the kids swimming. I  don’t remember. Pretty sure they ate today because all over the house are wrappers from all the snacks I hid from them so I could eat them after bedtime.

Day 30 – no sleep again last night, mostly because I didn’t get any snacks yesterday. One child begged me to let him sleep in my bed insisting it would be “fun.” He sleeps like he lives – uneasily. Lots of tossing and turning. I honestly don’t know how dragging myself around but I’m feeling and looking and probably smell like a carcass at this point. Somehow my husband sleeps through it all. Fortunately, he took on the Costco responsibilities, because I’m pretty sure had I gone, the 20-pound container of peanut butter-filled pretzels would have seemed like a good idea.

Husband brought home a 5-pound bag of almonds wrapped in coconut, bathed in chocolate. He is a good and wise man.

Day 31 – Kids. They can’t just take the easily-accessed strawberries and wash them themselves. They prefer the strawberries to be decapitated and sliced and cored and butterflied or julienned or something that good parents probably do.

They’re not suffering, though. Today I went into the random kitchen appliance drawer, the one with all the measuring cups and potato peelers and the stuff I use once a year. I saw the ice cream scoop. Now, I don’t usually bother with the ice cream scoop, because (a) they don’t work that well and (b) I usually just eat it out a pint anyway. If I’m putting things in bowls because I’m feeding the children and I don’t want them to think that it’s appropriate to eat out of the pint. So, long story short, the ice cream scoop is more a placeholder, if you will. Something people have in their random appliance drawer and something non-heathens probably use. But there it lay, that scoop. And it was filthy. With ice cream. Melted chocolate to be exact. Probably Ben & Jerry’s. One of my kids tried to use the ice cream scoop to get him/herself ice cream, then in an effort to “clean up” and/or hide the evidence, put the scoop back in the drawer. The kicker is that the drawer is literally just a half spin away from the dishwasher, and I’m so tired these days if I’d noticed it at all, I just would have assumed I’d gone classy for awhile and didn’t remember. Anyway, cleaned out that whole drawer. All members of the house deny doing it.

Day 32 – July 4th, the original Brexit. If the amount of neck-dirt, chocolate on their faces (despite not eating any chocolate), and ability to narrate 32 minutes of fireworks nonstop is any measure, it was a success from which we may never quite recover.

 

Sweet Summer Funtimes – The First Full Week

Creative non-fiction, Humor, Parenting, Surviving Summer Funtimes, , , , , , , 
Wondering about the great life decisions I made to get to this point? Check out last week's Sweet Summer Funtimes update here.

Day 4 – Feeding the children was a little sporty today. Scoured the depths of the pantry for lunches, because I haven’t grocery shopped out of fear of wrangling three kids in the cereal aisle. Told kids that Triscuits and cheese is too a continental lunch treat!

Kids started an art installation called Band-Aids A-plenty. It’s cool and magical because every day I find 6000 wrappers and used bandages that I pick up and throw away and then they reappear the next day. I think it’s a commentary about the fragility of life and how we also need to take care of our planet.

New word — bouleversé, which is apparently French for summer break.

 

Day 5 — Heard the children excitedly working together on something in hush-hush tones. This tends to set off warning systems in any mother’s head, so I peeked in to see them going under furniture and through bags searching for coins. I oh-so-casually mentioned that if they happened to find anything that needed to be thrown out/donated they should do that, because I’m hopeful and apparently never met a child before. YET — after thirty minutes they had made a donation pile and thrown away some nasty stuff that had been lodged in various crannies. I dub this day the Feast of the Under Bed Miracles.

 

Day 6 – For several hours, kids played catch with the Magic 8 Ball. In the middle of the playing field was a giant tom-tom drum that somebody who is no longer welcome in my house gifted to us. Constant drumming remniscent of an approaching army let me know that my children need lots of practice catching balls, Magic 8 or otherwise.

Added Excedrin to my shopping list, should I survive all this fun long enough to make it to the store.

 

Day 7 – Let the kids have some ice cream on the front porch/driveway. When I joined them about 10 minutes later with a spoon I notice there was some Vanilla Chocolate Chip that had melted on a plate they left in the sun. Fortunately my kids love me enough to stop me from eating what was actually quite accurately-deposited bird poop.

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Day 8  – Child saw hummingbird at the feeder and other two thundered over to the window like a herd of wildebeests. Many tears were then shed that the hummingbird flew away. I spend the afternoon writing bad poetry about being a hummingbird.

 

Day 9 – Took the family to the pool, an exercise in watching the kids flail about pointlessly in the water while screaming at me to watch. For some reason, all of the men and boys at the pool started competing to see who could do the stupidest splashiest jumps off the diving board to their own amusement and to the second-hand embarrassment of everyone else there. My husband stopped after he, and I quote, “broke his butt.” He limped over to a deck chair and we both watched in horror as our clumsiest child, who’s never met a surface he couldn’t impale himself on, slipped as he went down the length of the diving board, slicing a quarter-sized piece of skin off his thigh, thus ending the first pool visit of the season much like we ended the last pool visit of last season. Fortunately, it only took 45 minutes to get the kids from the pool to the car 100 feet away, as they were “freezing” and “so cold” on this 95-degree day. Injured child limped bravely and not-at-all dramatically toward the car. I asked if he wanted to see a doctor or if he wanted to go home and get a snack. Snacks won the day, as they usually do.

 

Day 10 – Waking up now means getting a medical report on accumulated bug bites, including size and itchiness level. Also got an update on the diving board wound, and a slide show presentation of how said wound had bled into the bandage and then started to scab up. You can all look forward to those photos in this year’s holiday card.

 

Day 11 – The kids entertained themselves by trying to figure out a song on the piano. I know that sounds great on the surface – they’re being creative and they’re problem-solving — but it’s a trial and error process that involves banging out the part they’ve already mastered, then hitting every wrong note until they finally arrive on the correct one, and then starting over and getting it wrong, and finally starting over again and getting it right but then having to figure out the next note.

Went to the library, which is a place I always called the amusement park until they learned how to read (which I suppose is my fault for taking them to the library). Shout out to the tween next to me at the new junior high fiction section who intently picked at a massive scab he had on his arm. At least I know my gag reflex is fine.