School’s out for the summer, peeps. It’s here, and I’m dealing with it. I’m actually glad that it is finally here, because I am tired of dreading it and ready to simply get on with it already. This is a run-down of the first three days of my summer “vacation.”
If the events of Thursday could be distilled down into a single word, it might be “poo” or possibly a nastier variation of that word. Jack finished up school at 10:15 in the morning and we spent the next several hours running a couple of errands, visiting the library, and playing in the backyard. Henry and I began our summer reading together in the shade of the cottonwood trees, marred only briefly when the football he insisted on tossing around as I read missed his catch and smacked square into my face.
When therapy time rolled around that evening, I had managed to handle a backyard pooping episode, a fussy baby with a cold, and a four-year-old’s nonstop comings and goings in and out of the house for many more hours than I am accustomed. But the real excitement began when during therapy, Jack got quite irate at being asked to poop in the potty and began smashing things, and we discovered a day-old cowpie in the therapy room.
It felt like an inauspicious start to a season which every year threatens to unhinge me. I had a meltdown. Jeff got home late-ish from work and encouraged me to get out of the house. I went on a long drive and wracked my befuddled brain for better poo outcomes. Nothing was forthcoming, so I simply drove home in the cooling dusk (really quite lovely) and went to bed fast before anyone could invent a reason to stop me.
Friday came and with it, my fresh resolve to plod onward. We planned a morning therapy session for Jack, and by a stroke of great heavenly benevolence and mercy, pudge baby slept during the entire thing. I cleaned up messes like a madwoman, read scriptures with Henry, cooked breakfast, moved laundry, and managed to brush my teeth.
We lunched (at the table, with each boy actually eating and not tantruming–look how normal we are starting to be!) and then piled in the car for a jaunt to the new natural history museum. It’s my new favorite place to take my boys. It’s completely marvelous and beautiful and interactive and fun. I handled five boys (my four + one friend) including one with special-needs, one who refuses to hold my hand in parking lots and insisted on carrying along three spin toothbrushes which he periodically used to “brush” the museum floor (okay nevermind, we’re not that normal), and one little baby.
We spent two delightful hours scoping out the place. I was so proud of those five little dudes and their stellar behavior that we spent the elevator ride back down to the first floor giving each other high fives and fist bumps. The other best part of Friday: Jack waltzed into the bathroom and deuced in the potty, no fuss. Then he dashed my glorious moment of hope when he pooped messily outside and whizzed next to the table after the prayer during dinner.
Saturday brought Jack’s weekly attempt to single-handedly dismantle our garage. But we managed to get a gospel doctrine lesson prepared, some sprinklers and the air conditioner fixed, the lawn mowed, and the sheets changed. Jack tried to cut his hair again but I was one step ahead of him and averted it. And blissfully, date night got us out of the house, and kept us out of any sort of inpatient mental health facilities.
It’s here, folks. This is happening. Bring. It. On.