Remember in May? When you happily waved goodbye to your children and trotted off to work, or to the gym, or to Target, where you could peruse the aisles, child-free? And you thought to yourself:
“I can’t wait until summer gets here, I’m going to take them to the pool, and we’re going to make arts and crafts, write in journals, and read every day. I’m going to learn how to braid hair and it’s just all going to be so idyllic and beautiful and the kids are going to have amazing memories forever, and ever, and ever.”
And then you happily went and got a cup of coffee and no one tried to sit on your lap while you returned email.
Remember that?
Yeah me too.
Vaguely.
But today, all of that is gone. Today we are deep into summer. June has come and gone. We are staring down the mouth of July like it’s a great white shark, and it’s kill or be killed all over the neighborhood.
The kids are sunburned, because I am OVER delicate sunscreen application. There are holes in the towels, because kids put holes in everything. The iPad (only 30 minutes of screen time a day!) may as well be be surgically attached to my daughter’s eyeballs. The kids are talking like YouTube stars I’ve never heard of, and my browser history shows I’ve been desperately searching for summer camps and babysitters in a never-ending rotation. We’re all living on popsicles and piñata candy from the last birthday party we attended.
And we are all driving each other crazy.
Everyone is sweating, all the time, and the kids apparently think it’s necessary to change clothes five times a day. My flowers are dead, because who has time to water. A dip in the pool counts as a bath. We’ve watched Sing at least a dozen times this week. I’m blowing money left and right at Starbucks, because cold brew and cake pops and drive-throughs and everyone is happy.
