School’s out for summer. After twelve summers of having the kids being home all the time, every day, every nanosecond of my pitiful existence, I’ve gotten much better at the rate I adjust. Really, I have. I used to lose my temper and require heavy medication six weeks after school ended. With intense meditation, counseling from fellow Bus Stop Mommies, and numerous rounds of shock therapy, I improved to point of looking forward to summer vacation.
I focused on the positive — three whole months without setting the alarm for 6 a.m., packing lunches, running forgotten lunches and homework to school, cutting errands short to get home in time to meet the afternoon bus, forking over money and filling out redundant field trip and athletic forms, buying poster boards the night before a huge project is due, cramming for tests, and staying up until midnight washing the “will die if I can’t wear them to school tomorrow” pair of jeans. Did I mention not waking up at 6 a.m.? That alone left me ecstatic about the beginning of summer.
This year, I’m so proud of myself! I think the acupuncture really helped. The kids were home for the summer at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday. I lasted all the way until that Thursday afternoon before I lost my temper and wished for year-round school. “Is it asking too much to get A LITTLE HELP AROUND HERE? You think that van is going to pack itself for our trip to Florida? If you think I’m going spend the entire summer waiting on you hand-and-foot you’ve got another thing coming! And don’t think you’re going to spend all summer sitting on your rear in front of the TV or computer. I swear, I’ll yank those plugs and throw them off the back deck!”
The children watched in obedient mock horror as my head spun on its axis and flames shot out my ears. It had, after all, been a year since they’d heard this particular diatribe (see p. 372 of The Mommy Manual under the heading, “Summer Survival”). When the dust settled, my son whipped the vacuum cleaner out of the hall closet and wheeled it to the far end of the house. My daughter bowed deeply, “My liege,” grabbed a Hefty bag and ran to clean her room. As I caught me breath, her door cracked open and a third of her little face peeked out. “Um, mom, perhaps it’s time you find some new hiding places.”
She slammed the door before I could yell, “I shouldn’t have to hide from my own children in my own house!” But she was right. Must…have…quiet…place…to…hide…or…die…before…end…of…July.
Hiding gets harder every year — the kids remember all my “secret” places from the last three summers. On top of that, we have a new dog, who, despite being my husband’s, follows me everywhere. Unless I take her with me — she’s small, quiet and rarely asks to share my emergency chocolate.
Please contact Karen — she needs an excuse to pretend she’s working — at www.busstopmommies.com.
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at www.busstopmommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
