Ah, while autumn does not begin for another six weeks or so, summer ends here in six days. Next Wednesday, and not a moment too soon, the boys will find themselves with a mom foot firmly in their rears pushing them out the back door. If they’re lucky, it’ll only be 15 minutes before school starts and not the night before. Put a fork in me, I’m done.
I’ve had my fill of summer with the boys; hit my limit on Monday and have spiraled downwards from there. I have cleared my calendar of anything requiring thought, emotion, activity, or my presence. It’s gonna hurt when I finally get back to the gym, but I just couldn’t handle more whining: “But we don’t liiiiiiiike the kid station….it’s booooooring…..” <Insert deity of your choice here> could come down from on high and I’d be all, “Dude, take a number. Can’t you see the cherubs are trying to make each other bleed? I have only two arms and they’re both busy keeping them from killing each other; the dog gets a foot because she’s barking like a rabid animal underneath us. Totally come back after Wednesday and I’ll see if I can squeeze you in. Until then, a little help here would be just awesome.”
Think I’m kidding? This summer A has given J two black eyes, a scratch/gouge down the entire side of his face (thank GOD missing his eye), countless bruises, and I have no idea how many punches. J’s count is considerably lower, though I suspect he’ll catch up: only pinches, punches, scratches from him. At this point I’m just trying to make sure they have all their limbs for the first day of school.
I envy parents who don’t want school to start, who want to keep their kids home. Not that I want that, but I want the situation they have. Either those moms have the patience of saints or kids who listen/follow instructions/learn from mistakes. Neither of those scenarios are at play here. My patience is shot and the other stuff…not yet.
Six days. Just six days. And then maybe I’ll unlock my emotions and thoughts and self to see how bad the damage is.
Just six days.