Someone, please, tell me: WHERE HAS SUMMER GONE? And what have I done with it, other than eat every breakfast on the porch, cover said porch with Play-doh (aside: who knew Play-doh and concrete loved each other so much they could never ever be separated?), drink awesome iced chocolate coffee, work half time, and stay up late watching the kids tear up and down the street in pursuit of fireflies and the top speed in a Cozy Coupe.
In many ways this has been a fabulous summer. Working 20 hours a week means I have 2.5 days to spend hanging out with Bea and Liv. We’ve seen a lot of elephant poop and playgrounds and Sesame Street episodes. Some of us have also seen a lot of Wizards of Waverly Place (hint: it’s not me).
In other ways, it’s been the roughest summer since the one Miss O arrived. You all, adding a three-year old to our family has been so many kinds of wonderful, but also incredibly challenging. For one thing, I AM OLD. And cranky. My patience is pretty much nonexistent and if I have to ask “do you have to go potty” or say “do not touch mama’s phone/computer/eyeball” one more time I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
Also, the two girls are still at that frenemy stage – they like each other fine for about 10 minutes every day, then someone dares to touch me or ask me to brush her hair or read her a story and the other one is suddenly sulking or tantruming or plotting how to kill me in my sleep.
Baby steps, right? This stuff just takes time. (And if it never gets better, please don’t tell me or I might be the one sulking and tantruming.)
The fall scares the bejeebers out of me. We have to find something to do with Bea. I have to go back to work full time. AND, to make things more interesting, I will be teaching another course at my alma mater. A required course for one of the graduate programs. WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING WHEN I SAID YES? Okay, okay. I was thinking “this is a fabulous opportunity that I might never get again and if I turn it down I am 87 kinds of stupid.” However, I am freaking right the hell out over the amount of prep to get this course imprinted on my brain and to make it work. Nervous would be an understatement.
Also… Miss O? She will be in fifth grade. That is unpossible. I cannot even wrap my brain around that fact. I remember fifth grade clearly: new bras (and boys to snap the bra straps), Trapper Keepers with horses and orchids on them, illicit eye shadow application in the school bathroom (Maybelline frosted blue FTW), and serious crushes on boys. Which reminds me: this summer contained a milestone I was not really ready for… Miss O came home from camp with two boys’ numbers. Luckily she has a good head on her shoulders and discerning taste in men and quickly dropped the numbers into the trash. ;-)