I don’t always like my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love them all the time. But sometimes, I really don’t like to be around them. When they’re whining, fighting, or just in bad moods, I’d love to be able to tag out and hand them off to someone else. Those are the times that I dream of living on a deserted island, surrounded by the ocean and coconut trees and nothing else. Just quiet, peaceful ocean sounds. All alone.
This daydream seems to happen in the Summer especially. I’ve grown accustomed to dropping all of them off at school, getting my to do list of work or home stuff finished and then picking them up. But summertime, oh summertime… we are together 24/7. Too much togetherness has driven us all a little crazy. 6 weeks of poking, squealing sounds of “I’m bored…” or “She’s looking at me!” has me locking the bathroom door, pretending to pee when I don’t really have to just so I have a few minutes to myself, pretending I’m on my island.
Then…. they do something sweet. Like the oldest building a cardboard airplane for the youngest, and pushing him around the house in it. Or the middle one running in because she’s halfway through a book that I read as a kid and wants to share something really funny that happened. The summertime lack of a schedule, or rushing from school to activity and back again is a nice reprieve because all too soon school will start again and we’ll be rushing around, busy.
So I guess I’ll focus on the positive parts of all this togetherness, like making summer memories, the late night hide-and-go-seek in the dark, roadtrips, playing in the splash pad before a big summer storm rolls in. And the times, like now, that they are quietly playing together… wait, too quiet, way too quiet. They are definitely plotting something. I’m waiting for the tattling that’s to come in 3, 2, 1… Where’s my island ferry to take me away??
