Summer is almost over. Can I get a HALLELUJAH. Everyone at the Manor survived.
At the beginning of the season of sweat and chlorine I am all, "woowoo summer, you are my JAM." Then, about mid way through, I start lagging. I grow tired of naked toddler bathing suit wrestling. And excessive sweating from just blinking. And my inability to enjoy hot coffee in the middle of the day without feeling like I may catch afire and burn up all my insides.
Then all of the sudden it is August. Camps are over. There are not just minutes and hours, but whole days to be filled. I stress over childcare and work and never getting to go to the bathroom alone. And then one day I look around and say, "Screw you summer, we are done here." That day is the line in the sand. The demarcation between thriving and surviving.
On one side of the line, life is manageable. People are happily jumping in the pool and playing in the sand. They are hopping out of the car at camp and pony tails are properly in the middle of heads. On the other side there is utter mayhem. I haven't showered and people are pulling my pants down because I can't hold them and fix their snack of stale fruit loops. Hair is not brushed and there are no clean clothes. Even the almighty iPad is no longer entertaining people. Every place I turn there are piles of summer detritus--beach towels and art camp paintings and half unpacked vacation luggage. It all seems so hopeless.
This is also the point where everyone starts to turn on each other. The screaming, oh the screaming. Why must all communication be in the form of screaming? Every minute that my husband is at work with adults, doing adulty things and not breaking up sibling fight club or scrambling when the sitter cancels, makes me stabby at him.
The light side of the line...the first three-fourths of summer, is The Sound of Music. The kids and Maria are skipping around Salzburg in curtain clothes. Everyone is singing perfect harmonies. And falling in water and then laughing because getting soaking wet in clothes made of thick tapestry is a gas. It is carriage rides and picnics. We are all doing a choreographed dance on steps that goes perfectly and no one falls and busts their knee or trips over someone else and punches them in the back of the head. It is straight idyllic.
|Today Beast's pants wouldn't stay up|
in Rack Room. And he realized it and
ran away repeatedly so he could secretly take
them off. Well played, Summer. He would
never get winter pants off so easily.
The other side of the line is the dark side. That last fourth of summer, is Mad Max. The new one. Where it is super hot and everyone is thirsty and people are getting dragged around by their ankles and Charlize is driving a carpool. We are on Fury Road over here people. And we are driving it straight to the first day of school. Complete with the crazy dude who has no grasp on how decent people act and a girl that is emotionally unbalanced and willing to kill people to get what she wants. People are covered in tattoos (homemade pen and marker ones because drawing implements and bare limbs keep people happy on car trips.) Everyone has an obvious dirt crust upon their body and all hair needs a decent scrub. There is little to no organization and we are all just trying to make it out alive.
I am ready for the movie where there is no humidity. Everyone is on a good schedule and there is planned childcare. And not one person has a 12 o'clock shadow of dirt and Doritos and popsicles. Summer, it is time to move on. Go on to the Southern hemisphere and wear those moms out for awhile.