As I promised my 7-year-old, I’ve given up blogging for the summer. Her definition of blogging includes me picking up my phone in any way shape or form and I haven’t corrected her because it’s easier than explaining my obsession with Googling pictures of botched plastic surgeries.
Anyhoo, I have been (more or less, depending on my level of required bathroom time) social media free for about a month. But now my kids are at camp and I feel like a teenager sneaking cigarettes while Mom and Dad are off visiting grandpa in the nursing home.
A few weeks ago we dropped the kids with my parents for nine days and went to Mexico with our friends. It was just like in my fantasy except we had to come back. Friend vacations when you’re 40 are a little different than when you’re 20. For example, dinner conversation continued to drift back to Epi Pens and CPAP machines and we were in bed every night by 10:30.
Also there is the debilitating feeling of guilt when you leave your kids for so long (applies only to females). My brain berated me with thoughts of losing my temper too often and other various parental shortcomings. “I need to be more patient with them,” I thought while looking out at the peaceful sea and no one needing me to get them a glass of water or wipe their ass. “I’m the one who has to set a good example of how to resolve conflict.”
This promise lasted about five seconds after I picked them up, when one started throwing ice cubes at the other in the McDonald’s parking lot and I totally lost my shit. All I can say is that it’s easy to breathe when you’re not suffocating.
My 5-year-old is obsessed with Uno, the official game of the Mayer household. Nick has been teaching her strategy and I’ve been teaching her to trash talk. After god-knows-how-many games on Monday night I finally had to pull myself away to get dinner started. I heard her in the play room trying to bribe her sisters with “everything in her jewelry box” to play just one game, but they are about five hundred games past burn out so she didn’t get any takers. I walked in to see what was going on to find her here, playing Uno BY HERSELF. It was close to the saddest, most desperate thing I’ve ever seen and I wish I could tell you the story ended differently than me running into get my camera and then quietly tiptoeing away before she guilted me into another game. But it was corn dog night and I was super excited to eat.
3. Swimmers (ear)
Want to know the next worst thing to having a newborn? A 4-year-old with swimmer’s ear who comes into your bedroom every night between the hours of midnight and 3am crying to you that her brain hurts. The one thing that’s better is that she’s able to vocalize what’s wrong instead of just randomly screaming, but there’s still the sickening helplessness of watching your child struggle through pain that wrenches your gut.
Swimming is off-limits for a week while she’s on the drops but if you want 47 pictures (and 3 minute video) of yourself getting your older two situated at swimming lessons, she’d be more than happy to help.
4. Activities, etc.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I have spent twice as much time looking for uniform/costume pieces as I’ve spent at actual events. I’d guess that in any given day I spend 20-25 minutes with my head in the dryer screaming, “CHECK UNDER YOUR BED!”. Activities would be OH so much more tolerable if they could just throw on any old thing. And also if I didn’t have to sit through the activity.
All for now – let me know what you’ve been up to this summer! I’ll only be able to check comments as long as it takes the kids to find me hiding under my bed with my phone.