WARNING: BAD MOTHER POST AHEAD
Okay, that's it.
I'm done. Finito. I've had enough of summer vacation. If I'm not mistaken, the children of my American friends have either already gone back to school, or are RIGHT on the verge of going back to school. My kids still have TWENTY THREE FREAKING DAYS LEFT. Oh my god. Why did I just go and count that? I think I'll go have an anxiety attack for a moment if you don't mind....
At the beginning of the vacation, I was all happy--you know; like an idiot. No more rushing around in the morning, getting yelled at, verbally abused, pulling children apart, knocking heads together in order to get them to school. Hooray for sleeping in!
We filled up the little pool, and the kids were so excited, they were in that icy water before it even reached their ankles. Yay! Summer is GREAT! Let's blog about how wonderful summer is, and how huggysnuggy we feel because we're sitting in the back yard with a f*cking cocktail, and even though it's approximately 300 degrees outside, it's so pleasant and oh me oh my, look at how the pretty flowers are growing! Oh, good gracious me, I'm so happy to barbecue food again!
And then, the constant, unrelenting fighting started. And by constant I mean ALL THE TIME.
We went to the pool, and the library, and the local art gallery, and the store to buy some fun things for the little pool, and we went to the splash pad, and that indoor playland, and we went on a nice vacation and we swam a million times a day...Why, they're even fighting as I type this, and The Man is in there saying "leave Ella ALOOOOONE. Leave her ALONE. I'm not gonna tell you again!" Why is The Man the one who has to be in there telling them off? Because if I go in there again I'll have a stroke.
That and my throat is getting FATIGUED from trying to reason with them. You know--reason with them like they're a miniature version of rational human beings. Which they are NOT.
Now Jack is goading The Man and singing out "IDIOT!" My smack hand is tingling. OH wait--it's still not acceptable to smack the crap out of your own kids anymore, is it.
Hey everyone, remember when we were kids, and every time we'd be in the grocery or department store with our moms, there'd be some other kid there who'd do something bad, and that kid's mom would LAY THE BEATS on that kid, right there in the middle of the store? Remember how they always hauled that kid up by one arm with one hand, and with the other hand, they spanked in a frenzy? Remember how you'd be standing there with your brother or sister watching this with wide-eyed, unblinking HORROR, and you felt SO, SO SORRY for that kid, and you HAD to conclude that his/her mother was a MONSTER? Little did you realise that that kid probably hadn't shut up for the past hour:
"I wanna go home! I don't wanna go shopping! TAKE ME HOME! Buy this ball for me! No! I WANT IT! I WANT THE BALL! GIVE ME MY BALL! SCREEEECH SCREECH SCREEEEEEECH SCREEEEEEEEEEECH!"
and that poor mother, pushed past all sense of reason and sense of right and wrong, lost her sh*t and gave in for one, brief, beautiful, deeply satisfying moment and...
oh wait, this doesn't sound very good.
Okay, calm down. It's just a fantasy. I'm not a pro-spanking advocate. But let me tell you, when you're pleading with your children to JUST. STOP. FIGHTING. until your throat is sore, and then you put them in TIME OUT, and the whole time they're in TIME OUT, they try to kick you, or smack you, or dig their fingernails into your arm, and they call you the worst names with the smirky voice....
I'd better go get me a new bottle of whisky today.
And so, sadly, I am counting the minutes until school starts, and then my kid who doesn't know how to amuse himself when he's not drawing pictures, or conducting his own imaginary orchestra, will be back in a rock-solid routine all day. Even if it means that he'll be anxious about everything again. Ella will get a break from the relentless pestering, and she'll be pried away from her beloved TELEVISION.
And me? I'm GOING TO PEEL THE SHRINK WRAP off that yoga dvd finally, and I'm going to walk them to school every day, give them big kisses and hugs, and then run back home and laugh until I weep with relief.
Judge me as you will.
How is YOUR summer winding down, parents? Do me a favour, won't you: if it was calm and wonderful, could you just please make up a story of suffering for me? It would mean a lot.