The heat has broke, thank god. Let me just say, the worst thing about last week’s heat wave wasn’t the oppressive temperatures, or the soul-crushing humidity. No, the worst part of last week was the fact that they cancelled school for those buildings without air conditioning.

What?! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

I get it, I do. It was hot, for the love of Pete. But, my god, I had just gotten the kids back to the blessed structure of school. And they needed it, believe me. I don’t know about you, your kids were probably lovely, but my kids had gone completely feral. They’d roll out of bed, snarl at you if you suggested anything constructive, grab a fist full of dry cereal and bolt out the door. A large group of neighborhood kids had formed a sort of clan, bonded by boredom and an aversion to household chores. You’d see them in their wolf pack, moving amoeba-like through the streets, a mass of bikes, skateboards, and scooters. I could tell that they came home occasionally because all of our bread bags seemed to have been torn open with their teeth. Wrestling them back into their home was a challenge. Getting them to take showers was exhausting. Ask them to clean their rooms…? Tears all around. It is not for nothing that bedtime, on the last day of summer vacation, is my favorite holiday of all.

(Right. It’s not really a holiday, but it totally should be.)

Now it’s Labor Day, I mean, seriously, can I catch a break here? Right now, Little Man is swinging an extension cord around his head like a lasso. Totally my fault. I mean, I never technically said, “Do not try to lasso and hog-tie your sisters with an electrical cord” so how would he know? That is the problem with summer vacation; they are thinking up things to do faster than I can forbid them.

My brain is just too old, too inflexible, too shaped by years of following the rules of polite society. I don’t try to teach myself to juggle with items from the refrigerator. I don’t write my “To Do” list in sharpie on the wall next to my bed. I don’t try to kidnap baby rabbits and bring them into my house. I do not attempt to “gently body-slam” my siblings, or tape random kitchen utensils together until every single wooden spoon is encased in a basketball sized mass and, by the way, we are out of masking tape. These are not the sort of behaviors I can predict, and therefore get in front of.

One more day. Tomorrow, if there is a god, the kids will be back in school. Of course, I’m working today, so it’s really up to Hubby to get them through this final day of summer.

Good luck dear, and God bless. I’ll see you later tonight.


The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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