I fully admit to being the kind of parent who finds herself reminding others not to wish away childhood. Kids grow up so fast, we have to cherish moments. Time is fleeting, someday we will wish for these days back. All that jazz.
And then, by the time the dog days of summer show up, I'm counting days.
7 days until school starts. Exactly 7 days from right this second, I will be dropping my oldest baby off for his first day of middle school.
And yeah, I am counting.
Guilty, as charged.
My house is trashed. All the time. The kitchen is never clean, the floor is always littered with shoes and clothes and granola bar wrappers and cheese papers.
(seriously, wtf is up with the cheese papers?!?! my kids have a patent inability to throw away cheese papers.) I gave up trying at some point, knowing that I would just get it taken care of when they aren't here.
It's just not worth the effort, though my OCD tendencies are being tested like never before.
They eat. And eat. And eat. Then they eat some more. From sunrise until bedtime, someone in this house is always hungry. I've got two solidly in pre-puberty growth spurts and I cannot keep food in the house. I have to hide things in the pantry if there is any hope of me actually getting to eat them. A friend of mine, commiserating about this, asked her daughter why she eats all day during the summer...especially given that she obviously can't do that during the school year. Her daughter's response? Because she can.
Yep, that sounds about right.
My girls either love each other or hate each other, and there is nothing in the middle. They are doing fashion shows and make-overs one second, kicking each other in the face the next. They poke, they pinch, they pull each other's hair, they breathe each other's air.
Oh, the horror.
They can do battle and I don't even intervene anymore unless blood is involved. I'm not a referee, I don't own a whistle, and I look terrible in stripes. I do need to invest in earplugs though.
They are loud. Really freaking loud. And, like most things in a house with this many kids, everything becomes a competition. One makes noise, another turns up the TV. TV is loud? Radio has to be louder. My house is never quiet. Ever. A few of them even talk in their sleep. Wish I was kidding.
I love my children, to the moon and back. Sometimes though, I'd like to send them there.
Let's be honest.
This school year brings many changes for our family, and many of those changes are bittersweet ones. I'm not really ready to have a middle schooler, but I'm not exactly in a place to do anything about it except deal with it. He, on the other hand, is perfectly content in this sandwich phase of his life. Trapped between being a teenager and being my little boy, he craves responsibility and independence, but has recently started calling me Mommy all over again.
And I'm really okay with that.
He may not want to do it around his big-kid friends though, or they'll give him an endless amount of crap about it.
7 days, my friends. 7 days.
Then I can go back to cleaning and carpooling and missing my children just enough during the day to tolerate them at night.
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