The Different Summer

There are only 2 weeks left until school starts! I am in two minds about this because the kids drive me mad quite a bit, but also, I haven’t had half as much quality time with them this year, as in previous years. I had a nice week here and there, but that’s it. There were no themed-camp weeks, or gardening, or much else. There was fuck all, really. But there were life lessons in there, anyway, as there are for any who might look for the silver lining.

My kids are not the centre of the universe: I like to think that they knew this already, since I’ve never dropped anything to be at their beck and call, but since I’m working and they are home with Husband, who is also working but just from home, I’m not available to them. They’ve had to make their own adventures, which I think they’ve done in the past, anyway, but let’s face it, my adventures kick ass! They have learned that they fit into a social fabric, rather than being the yarn of the fabric, or whatever other metaphor you like. 

Their actions have consequences: Again, I think they knew this but they surely had it reinforced when I came home in the afternoon/early evenings and if they were dicks, they would hear about it! 

If something hadn’t been done by the time I got home that I had asked about in the mornings, then get thee to bed, devils. 
There’s not always enough time: We ran out of time for pretty much everything this summer, and we all had to just deal. We all wanted playdates and day trips and creative opportunities. There were half as many daytrips and a mere tenth of the number of playdates we would have liked, but with soon-to-be 9yos birthday coming up, we hope to rectify that a little with a stupidly large party that includes two classes, at least that’s an opportunity for some creativity.

I can’t imagine that next summer will be any different, but maybe we’ll be used to it by then?

Oh, The Poor, Wee Souls!

“Hey guys, wouldn’t it be cool if I got to work with the police?”
“Would it be dangerous?”
“Who would look after us?”

Of course, the answers are “no” and “seriously?”. The boys would either play all day in their underpants with no food or would scrounge from the pantry or fridge themselves if they didn’t see me in a congealing mess of offal and writhing ants, or they’d call 911 if they did. In either scenario, I consider that to be taking care of themselves. Case closed.
5yo starts full-time school in September and turns 6 (gasp!) in December, so they are old enough to be taking care of me! Any theoretical jobs I could hold down would be during school hours in all probability, so the day to day love and trudgery would still be on my shoulders rather than some slender nanny with long hair and an attitude (bitch better have an attitude if she’s taking care of my monkeys). And let’s face it, a bit of before or after-school care would probably be the pinnacle of my children’s days, and especially if I came home with tales of heroics and standoffs from the world of filing cabinets and multi-line phones.
So I guess it’s just myself I have to convince.