I’m joking, of course. Let’s face it, I’ve been looking forward to this summer for a long time. It’s what I ached for. It’s what Pete and I strived for. Me being able to stay home with the kids was that one thing missing.
So I can hardly call myself a hostage, now, can I?
[Help me! Please. They’re all here. It’s torture, I tell you. Non-stop bickering. Pleas for another sandwich. And another. And another.]
School for the two in elementary school ended yesterday. By all accounts, it should have ended a week ago as this week has been one school-wide activity to another. Field Day! Students vs. Teachers Softball Game! Class Party!
[There is no required homework for them to do. No required reading lists. We’re starting our big workbooks and reading on Monday. That will take up all of one hour a day. For God’s sake, what will I do with the other 16 waking hours? Who the hell thought of making summer days longer? I want answers! I want help!!]
The youngest graduates from pre-school later this morning. Our plan is to teach him how to read this summer, because we want him to act up even more in kindergarten than he normally would. We were also going to spend the summer coaxing him to shed the vest and swim.
[He shed the vest yesterday! He’s not only swimming, the son-of-a-bitch is jumping off the diving board and swimming to the shallow end. Dear God, what next? Will he learn to wipe his butt by himself, too? “Not until I’m adult,” is what he says when I ask when. What else is there? I’ve got 69 days to fill. Help me!]
I love my kids. I enjoy being with them. When we’re hanging out together, focused on a task at hand rather than a TV or a destination or who is stuck sitting next to whom, it’s bliss. So don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.
[The horrors! The horrors!]