How was your summer? I must have asked and answered that question fifty times over the last few days during the countdown to school. And what can I say? It was ....regular.I had my usual high hopes for the summer. Family trips. Gourmet picnics. Lazy Beach Days. Summer play-dates. Planned educational activities. Making scrapbook worthy childhood memories that my kids would remember for ever. So how did I do? Ehhh...not so good.
I mean we hit the beach..and the parks. And we did a picnic or two although I'm not sure if Lunchables count as gourmet. But for the most part we did a lot of nothing...We slept in ridiculously late and stayed up into the wee hours. We watched hours of Nickelodeon and rented every movie we missed in the last two years. They played video games and I cheered. I played video games and they laughed at me. We blew bubbles in the yard and drew chalk characters on the sidewalk. And after a lazy eight weeks doing Nada, I have to say I am exhausted!!
I was starting to miss the structured school days with early bedtimes and strict schedules. The days of summer tend to blend one into another and I find myself behind on work, on writing, even on housework. So although the last week before school was uber stressful trying to outfit four kids with new clothes, shoes and freaking a Office Depot worth of school supplies (seriously I went to school with a few composition notebooks, pencils and crayons) I spent days organizing all the schedules in my favorite new planner It's so awesome because it has a mom space and pace for up to four kids, space to menu plan, keep track of doctor's appointments, it's my best friend! (you can find it here www.momagenda.com).
I even planned a new work, writing and work out schedules. I planned meals, outfits, EVERYTHING. I was so ready to get every day life back in order. I was ready to send the kids to bed early and was so ready for a smooth and organized start this morning.
And then my A/C decided that this 90+ degree weather would be a GREAT time to cut out and the repair man won't be here until tomorrow the morning, yes, I'm glistening as I type this. ( I won't say sweating because I'm a freakin lady and I don't sweat) So Sunday night had us all cranky, hot and just discombobulated. And so of course Spikey wakes up at 3:26 AM, climbs in my bed and proceeds to do full episodes of Pocoyo complete with British accent and the commercial breaks. I am not saying this for comic relief. This is my real life. I put him in his own room twice but he wakes up his older brother so I bring him back and suffer in (almost) silence. Sometimes he stops doing scenes and asks for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I want to cry. My husband rolls over and snores. None of this is in my planner.
At 5:45 my alarm goes off. I turn it off right away because I am still awake glistening like a freakin pig and listening to baby boy be British. I drag myself to the kitchen and start to gulp coffee like it's some Greek God's elixir. I want to reach for a box of cheerios, But I promised pancakes and pancakes are in the planner IN PEN!! So I wake my Big Girl and start the batter. Spikey is still being British, only now along with the TV. Big Girl is now having a conniption because the oven we have just spent the night in has frizzed her Hair that I spent 2 hours flat ironing the night before and she looks something like a Chia pet, so as I attempt to wrestle with her hair I burn the whole first batch of the homemade blueberry pancakes. So I have to start over and baby boy is whining for a pop tart. Here is where I say you will eat these pancakes if it kills you or me. Now I wake up Junior and Hurricane as per the planner's schedule. He asks for a few more minutes and Hurricane decides she'd rather wear a different outfit...wtf is wrong with this kid, doesn't she know I already wrote it in the planner???? Who does this? After some negotiating and foot stomping ( by me) we agree on an outfit. Which means she wins. Now I have burned another batch of pancakes.
I have to use all the super powers in my arsenal to get everybody fed, dressed and myself in my workout clothes, because although I haven't slept, a mile walk is in my planner's schedule. So I'm doing it. Big girl goes off without anymore trouble. So I feel it should be smooth sailing from here. Spikey, his cherry Pop-tart and I walk Big Boy and the Hurricane to their bus stop on the corner, where I proceed to get bit by six hundred million mosquitoes. And the bus takes forever, so I am covered with bite marks. By the time it comes I practically throw them on the bus and run like a mad woman back to the house. Once inside I have to change Spikey into a non-planner sanctioned outfit because the current one has smashed cherry pop-tarts all over it. And then we wait for the bus, and wait.... and wait and I get bit some more so we come inside and wait. And I call the school and the school bus company because the bus is 30 minutes late and school is going to start soon. As I reasonably discuss the situation on the phone (maybe I yell a little) I notice Spikey is now snoring and sweating because I mean it's 8:45 and he's been up since 3:30 so he's a little tired and it's 380 degrees in my house. They apologize say he will be picked up tomorrow and I can bring him in if I want to. Yeah right, I debate for half of a second before I get his sleeping body undressed and put him back to bed. and as I make my way to clean up the tornado swept kitchen, I hear loud annoying beeping outside. Of course, it's the school bus for Spike. The one they just told me wasn't coming. So I rush and tell them give me five minutes as I dress him for the third time and carry his half sleeping British butt onto the bus. Cars are backed up down my street honking. I don't give a half you know what.
Finally I walked back in the house and look at my planner open on the counter with smashed pancakes on the page. I see my to-do list of exercise, work and chores, I make a left into my bedroom peel of my sweat soaked sports bra and shorts and go directly to sleep in my oven hot house.... for four hours.
Maybe I'll try my planner again tomorrow, and next time I'll write in pencil.
Shavon Robinson "The Ovulator"