It seems that while I was on my little blogcation, my blog decided to break itself. Or go on strike. I firmly believe the latter is true. Since coming back, I’ve been unable to upload a single picture and a blog post without nice colorful pictures? Well, that would mean you would just have to read my drivel with no visual breaks. Today, my blog is still broken so that means one thing for you….oodles and oodles of drivel.
Sorry.
So since I can’t share any shiny pictures with you, I’d thought I’d share some of my parenting tips for summer so that you can feel better about yourself as a parent. You may thank me later…or take me off your reader, your call.
Summer always starts with the best of intentions. We will get the children out of bed at a reasonable hour, we will take them to do one fun thing each day, we will work to ensure numerous playdates and above all, we will encourage them to partake in the endless bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables available this time of year. It’s nice to dream. Below is a list of what summer really turns out like around here:
- Starting off with that “endless bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables” nonsense….we think it’s a great idea. The children, however, would beg to differ. The only fruit they are eating is strawberries and the occasional watermellon. Miss G will happily snarf down cantelope if I can muster up the energy to cut it into just the right size bites but will think twice after her brother pronounces it “slimy”, “gross” and “weird colored”. (Did I mention he is color blind? We call it orange, he calls it a shade of “blech”.)
- Bathing is optional. Days can go by without these children meeting a bar of soap. We know we’ve let them ripen past their due date when they begin to smell slightly like stale corn chips. Then it’s a one hour negotiation session to get both of them to shower and wash their hair.
- The pool counts as a bath. But only before they smell like corn chips so like days 1 and 2 of not bathing. And sometimes day 3. But never 4 because that would make me a bad mother. Oh wait.
- Prior to summer, the bottom half of our house is all mine. Things must be neat and tidy, crumbs from cookies, pretzels and pop tarts are not allowed in my area. Neither are sadly deflated juice packs. In summer, you could forage for a week in our den and manage to gain weight eating the leftover bits left on the floors, thirst would not be a problem either because there is absolutely no reason to drink all the juice in the Capri Sun package even if your Mother reminds you that there are children who would love to have a luxury like a cold juice.
- Regarding above guilt trip, it doesn’t work in the summer. Or any other time of the year for that matter.
- Bedtime? What bedtime? At some point, The Man and I are laying half dead on the floor covered in cookie crumbs and exhausted from trying to force them to eat when they finally migrate upstairs….which I might add is neater than downstairs now. (Trust me, the visual is frightening….) It’s never before 9:30 or so which leads me to my next point.
- Early to bed and early to rise. We’ve covered off on the early to bed thing, let’s talk about mornings. Or mid mornings. Or whenever they manage to migrate back down to the bottom of the house, smelling of corn chips with dragon breath and demanding a sugar coated breakfast. Shortly after breakfast, the sugar crash sets in and mayhem erupts right outside my office door and usually when I am on the phone with a client.
- We have a general rule in this house that after you whine eleventy million times, “I’m booooored” all fun is immediately halted. I’m happy to announce that they reached their limit on week two of summer break and we are now officially giving the finger to any form of entertainment that might present itself. We may revisit this again in a week or so.
So there you have it, a partial list of my summer parenting skills. Now…go give yourself a pat on the back, print out this post and use it as a threat against your children should they start to act up. I promise you they will straighten up at the thought of going to live with Aunty Stiletto for a week or so.
You’re welcome.
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