So, How’s Your Summer?

So you know how when it’s hot and humid all week, but you’re busy with work and baseball and everything else, and you promise your kids that you’ll take them to the beach on Friday IF they behave, and then Friday finally gets here and you get to the beach and it’s windy and cool and cloudy and you’re thinking how much Minnesota weather BITES, but everyone is swimming and having fun until after you buy them each a bag of chips and Justin decides he wants Fritos now after he’s already eaten Cheetos and he gets pissed and throws sand in your face? And so you pack up and leave, because it’s cold and sucky anyway, even though you’ve only been there an hour, and you get home and all you want to do is get in the shower and maybe work some more on a big project you launched this week, only to have Cameron crowd Alex out of the bathroom, resulting in a fight over who gets to pee first, and then Justin accuses Alex of peeing on the floor, and Alex gets mad at the accusation when I tell him to clean it up, and dumps a basketful of stuff from the linen closet onto the floor, then gets all apologetic and helps clean it up, only to blow a gasket again when you go into the bathroom and realize that he actually DID pee on the floor, purely out of spite, and you yell at him for it while you’re mopping up the floor with Lysol, and he’s still denying doing it, and gets mad and dumps the stuff out of the linen closet again, and you yank him out of it, and he accuses you of pinching his neck, and you’re thinking, you’re lucky that’s ALL I did, you little monster. Then Cameron, acting all high and mighty, tattles on him for squirting sunscreen on the floor, and you tell Cameron that if he hadn’t butted in line ahead of Alex in the bathroom, none of this would have started to begin with. And then Alex calls you an “asshole fucker” and dumps a basket of laundry out in your room, and you then completely zone out and the tears start rolling and you tell them all that you’re not speaking to them the rest of the day and that you will never, ever, in the history of time, ever do ANYTHING nice for them ever again because of their ungrateful and horrific behavior, then decide to screw it, and get in the shower anyway, even if you risk emerging into total destruction when you’re done, and while you’re in the shower, you think back to the other night when your husband came home and was annoyed because you didn’t load the dishwasher up to his rigorous standards, and had the audacity to insinuate that you didn’t DO anything to keep the place in order during the day, even though if it weren’t for you incrementally picking up and forcing them to clean up all day long, and for a twice daily sweep of the house to at least make sure the worst of the worst is put away, that if you didn’t do that, he would come home to nothing but a smoldering pile of ruins, and you get mad at him and decide that you are going to go drink tonight, and don’t care where or with whom. And then you get out of the shower and find that your devil spawn at least felt guilty enough to put the laundry back in the basket and are outside playing like nothing ever happened. And David is either sleeping or in his room through it all. And then you sit down to write and almost finish, and Alex comes in and puts his head on your arm and says he’s sorry, and kisses your arm, and you don’t talk to him, and he says sweetly, “Mommy, I love you,” and you can’t decide if you should continue not talking to him or acknowledge him, as he keeps kissing you while you type the last sentence of your rant.

Yeah, that.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2013

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