We left for Disney World the day after school was out for summer. The first family vacation the four of us have taken, it was honestly a really wonderful trip, filled with laughs and so many fun memories. I’ve been working on a blog post recapping our trip, from the planning to execution because I know a Disney World trip sounds overwhelming to so many but I actually really enjoy planning them and love to share the tips and tricks I’ve learned with anyone who will listen to me ramble about it.
However, that post is not ready. And by ‘not ready’ I mean it’s not even remotely in the form of a coherent piece of writing yet. Why? Because it’s summer.
Summer means my two children are here
trying to drive my sanity off a cliff making memories together.
Summer in South Louisiana means it’s already insanely hot. Yesterday it was 98* (“You’re my sunshine after the raiiiiinnnn…”) and the humidity is just absurd. IT IS JUNE, Louisiana. June. Two months to go before we even reach mid-August. My kid has asthma, Louisiana. Back off for a bit.
Summer also means growth spurts, apparently. Or an intestinal parasite. Something that causes my children to need to use the phrases “I’m HUNGRY” and “Can I have a snack?” and “Is there something I can eat?” more than even seems possible. Where do they put this? They’re a whopping 95 lbs combined. How can they eat this much? Why does food cost so much? How do people afford more children than this? Would it be the worst thing if I just decided to let them eat whatever they could reach whenever they wanted? Maybe I should put the Easy Mac in a more easily accessible location. Perhaps we’ll find out if life is sustainable on granola bars, string cheese, and juice boxes.
Summer also means bedtime IS. A. WRECK. It’s hard to convince a little person that it is actually time to take a bath and put on pajamas when it’s still daylight outside. “It’s like, the middle of the morning,” J said to me two nights ago. No, J, it’s 8:28 pm. Put on pajamas, son, because your mother is quitting for the day. Last night, he appeared at my bedside at 4 AM. In a decision I would later regret, I decided to pull him up into bed instead of walking him back upstairs to his room. 48 minutes later, I’m awakened to a little tap and a whispering voice informing me he needs to change clothes. Because he has wet the bed. My bed. This morning was spent wrangling sheets and blankets off the bed and shoving them in the washer. And then as the machine cranked up it’s intensity under the weight of my urine soaked comforter, it rattled the Costco size box of Oxi-Clean powder right off the top of the washing machine where it landed upside down on my floor. I took one look at that mess and just closed the laundry room door while my kids were telling me they were hungry again. For ice cream. Conquering the Oxi Clean disaster later.
Even my dogs are making this hard. They want out, so I get up and let them out. But then 6 minutes later, they’re too hot and want back in. I let them back in. Oh, they need more water now. Drink too much water. Need back out. The cycle continues all day.
For those of you thinking, “My goodness, they need some activities or a tiny bit of structure in their summer,” I hear you. This year, we decided to join the neighborhood pool. Fills so many needs. Beat the heat, physical activity, social activity with other kids and families in our neighborhood. Just a fabulous idea. Literally THE DAY we joined, the pool pump broke. It’s been out of commission since last week. I feel like I need to issue an apology for spreading my terrible luck around the neighborhood and now I’ve tainted the pool.
Someone is screaming. I have ear buds in and I can hear this over the blasting Muse song I’m listening to. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and I love this time with them. But whoa, summer. We’ve got some kinks to work out.