It’s official. I’m done. My kids need to get back to school. Very, very soon – or it’s gonna get ugly.
Unfortunately, we still have nineteen more days of togetherness left.
Nineteen more days of taking them everywhere with me. Nineteen days of sibling rivalry. Nineteen days of crap left all over the house. Nineteen days of whining, complaining, fighting.
Nineteen more days until I have to set an alarm.
It’s not all good.
Really, I shouldn’t complain. We’ve had a lot of fun together, and for the most part, they’ve gotten along pretty well. We even had a few days of Twilight Zone brotherly kindness. And I love all the sleeping. And I only have to take them with me when Meghan is babysitting someone else’s kids.
But I think we’re reaching our limit on patience and understanding. We’re starting to get on each other’s nerves, and like I said, I’m done.
I’m sure the weather isn’t helping. We’ve landed somewhere around day thirty-two of consecutive 100+ degree weather, and I can’t remember the last time it rained. The highs this week are expected to hover around 112.
One hundred twelve. One-One-Two. Actual temperature, not heat index.
(What heat index? There is no heat index because there’s no moisture in the air because it hasn’t rained since 1942. Or so it seems.)
Satan called. He wants his weather back.
Some of Michael’s employees tried to make the best of it. Lemons out of lemonade, chocolate chip cookies out of oven-like conditions.
Yes, it worked. Surprised? WE’RE LIVING IN AN OVEN, I TELL YOU!
So. Persnickety kids + 112 degrees = grumpy mama.
Geez, lady, get a grip. Quit complaining. Why are you grumbling about your healthy kids and brand-new house with a functioning A/C and shaded swimming pool?
Sorry. You’re right. Much for which to be thankful.
Did I mention that Michael will be on-call during Griffin’s sleepover birthday party? AND during our small group pool party with more than forty of our closest friends?
Dude. He has a stable job.
What about all the spiders invading our house?
You live in the woods. Duh. And it’s beautiful. And all those trees keep your house cool and your pool from feeling like bathwater. Spiders-shmiders.
But my kids are wild animals and are incapable of obeying the first time I tell them to do something and I have to repeat myself all day long and I want to gauge out my eyeballs with a butter knife.
Well, what about…? Um. There’s always… Hmm.
Yeah. That sucks.
Time to bust out nineteen days of cookie dough.