My writings are infrequent as of late. Summer calls and I am forced to answer. I am enjoying myself, so it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. Because it is the summer time, I am provided with plenty of Facebook Friday material thanks to my brilliant, annoying, and hilarious children. Life is funnier with them around. I am grateful.
My kids just updated me on all of the bad words they now officially know. Boston has even gone as far as to spell them out for me, just in case I was unaware. I do my best to stay calm, cool, and collected on the outside, but inside I am screaming, “Don’t you ever, ever, ever say those words to anyone!”
When my kid is sunburned, it is a walking billboard to the world, announcing how bad of a parent I am. There is no denying it or saying, “She must have licked it off!”
It is pretty sad that I have to ask my eight-year-old what my iTunes password is.
This morning I did yoga with my children. My daughter’s flexibility made me so insanely mad during downward dog that I pushed her over. I felt so much better afterwards. She was fine too.
God loves us all equally, yet Justin Bieber doesn’t have to fold his own laundry.
First day of summer school rundown: Had to tuck my daughter into the bed while making it since she refused to get up. My son will not eat his breakfast. Daughter wants to bring a lunch box even though I have told her repeatedly that they will not even be there for lunch. Packing snacks, I told my son he can’t have anything with nuts due to someone’s nut allergy. He then requested cashews. Daughter wants me to stay all day at school so she can sit on my lap. Claims the chairs are cold.
Why do I have to remind my children to change their underwear? Why do they think I put out a fresh pair every morning? Do they think I am just showing them other options? “Nah, I’m good with this pair that I have worn for three days in a row.” I give up.
I was stung by a bee on Tuesday. Barely even felt it. Possible that I am bionic. Maybe even a terminator.