I should self-impose a moratorium on blogging during the first week of summer. I need to remember this in the future (unlikely, since my brain is not so reliable in the memory department anymore).

I believe I should abstain from posting during this time frame because the transition from school year to summer break takes some getting used to. It takes finesse, in which I am apparently deficient.

The boys are adjusting. They have gone from crazed nocturnal people to zombies trudging around the house and then back to their usual selves once forced to eat a nightly melatonin Oreo under duress. Special cookie = adequate sleep.

My last post leaned toward the whiny side, regretfully. I wrote it during the Awful First Week. It’s a week that can’t be trusted. Or, rather, a week during which I can’t be trusted.

I can, however, be trusted to drive my children hither and yon, morning and afternoon, to camps and such.

I can be trusted to clean 32 ounces of sloshy, sticky Sprite from the cup-holders and seats in the back of the van after Jack disposed of someone’s abandoned McDonald’s drink in an aggressively sensory fashion.

I can be trusted to impose a nap schedule on the toddler, who is beginning to suspect that naps are for nerds, which they totally aren’t. Or maybe they are. Who cares about nerdiness if one is getting regular naps in, right guys?

I can’t be trusted to keep Jack from pouring Coke into the top of the whirring AC unit, resulting in some elegant splattering of high fructose corn syrup onto the house and the fence, making a sort of abstract art piece in caramel coloring.

We are totes having soda issues this summer.

There are simply limits to what one woman can do. Give her a week to adjust. Give her a giant bag of those Brookside Dark Chocolate Blueberry Acai bits of heaven. Give her a Dirty Diet Coke and don’t give Jack access to it. Give her a pass on flipping out about things for a few days as we settle into summertime and figure things out.

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