Today is the last of its kind until September. It is a day of running errands with few complaints from the peanut gallery (or the back of the van), of no eye-rolling, no drawn out arguments between brothers, and no poking at the covers containing my pre-teen who is still sleeping at 10AM.
Today is Intrepid's last day of school. Once he's finished we are officially on summer vacation. God help us all.
It's not that he's a bad kid. Not at all. He's a thoughtful son, a caring big brother and someone I enjoy spending a lot of time with in the following combinations:
1. The Maven and Intrepid
2. The Maven, Geekster and Intrepid
3. The Maven, Geekster, Spawnling and Intrepid
Can you spot who's missing? That's right: Gutsy. The boy who used to be all fire and brimstone and is now a fairly easygoing, hilarious five-year-old.
I should have been a mathematician, as I have discovered that putting two positives together can, indeed, create a negative. The Intrepid/Gutsy combination breeds mayhem on such a scale that I could charge admission to chaos theorists.
Yet, like an idiot, I maintain a positive attitude that would make Mother Theresa jealous. Spring after spring, I smile to myself as I envision the end of early mornings, lunch prep, matching clothes and last minute homework help. In my disturbed little mind, I delightfully recite the "thank you" notes I will write to the teachers while making sure to include a tearjerker line or two in between the laughs. I make note of all the things we will do, the three boys and I: Museum trips, picnics at the park, gardening, bird watching, visiting friends, popcorn and movies on rainy days...
By June I'm practically jumping out of my skin in anticipation of the last day of school. Last night I ran out and got the flowers and cards for the teachers. I even selected three additional ones for Intrepid's two school administrators and principal. I had my fifth-grader write out a lovely letter to his teacher and placed it delicately in the envelope. We packed everything he needed for today's field trip to the beach. This morning I brought everything over to the school. I received warm smiles and thank-yous and we'll-see-you-in-the-falls. I felt like Suzie Homemaker on steroids.
I picked up coffee on the way home, made toast for Spawnling and Gutsy, put on Curious George so I could get a few minutes to myself (which is what you're reading right now) and was suddenly keenly aware of a small voice in the back of my head.
"Hello? Stupidface? It's me, Reality. Hi there."
"Go away, Reality," I said with a cheery grin on my face. "I'm busy right now."
"What are you busy doing? Convincing yourself that this summer is going to go smoothly?"
"Quiet now, Reality. I'm entitled to my fantasies." I said melodically through clenched teeth, my plastic smile fading ever so slightly.
Reality cackled gleefully. "Oh, Maven. Poor, damaged Maven. You know what's coming, don't you? You can't plead ignorance, honey. Don't you remember the previous years? The tears, the screams, the pleading, the hiding? And that's just you. I haven't even started with what the kids do all summer..."
Red flashed across my eyes. "Shut up, Reality! Shut up, already! You're the stupidface, OK? I'm not listening to your crap. Summer will be great this year! I'm a stronger person. I'm a better mother. I'm a more resourceful individual. I will be organized and colour-coded and, and... action packed!"
"You're a fool, girl. You go crazy in the summer. I mean, look at you: School isn't even officially over and you're talking to an imaginary voice! You are so not going to survive. Wait until the boys start throwing toys at each other and Spawnling runs through poison ivy and Gutsy starts the tractor up when you're going to the bathroom and Intrepid argues with you over getting milk at the..."
"LA LA LA LA LA LA I'M NOT LISTENING I'M NOT LISTENING LA LA LA LA LA..."
"*sigh* Get your fingers out of your ears, Maven. What are you, three?"
(T-minus four hours until summer officially begins. It's going to be awesome!)
Today is Intrepid's last day of school. Once he's finished we are officially on summer vacation. God help us all.
It's not that he's a bad kid. Not at all. He's a thoughtful son, a caring big brother and someone I enjoy spending a lot of time with in the following combinations:
1. The Maven and Intrepid
2. The Maven, Geekster and Intrepid
3. The Maven, Geekster, Spawnling and Intrepid
Can you spot who's missing? That's right: Gutsy. The boy who used to be all fire and brimstone and is now a fairly easygoing, hilarious five-year-old.
I should have been a mathematician, as I have discovered that putting two positives together can, indeed, create a negative. The Intrepid/Gutsy combination breeds mayhem on such a scale that I could charge admission to chaos theorists.
Yet, like an idiot, I maintain a positive attitude that would make Mother Theresa jealous. Spring after spring, I smile to myself as I envision the end of early mornings, lunch prep, matching clothes and last minute homework help. In my disturbed little mind, I delightfully recite the "thank you" notes I will write to the teachers while making sure to include a tearjerker line or two in between the laughs. I make note of all the things we will do, the three boys and I: Museum trips, picnics at the park, gardening, bird watching, visiting friends, popcorn and movies on rainy days...
By June I'm practically jumping out of my skin in anticipation of the last day of school. Last night I ran out and got the flowers and cards for the teachers. I even selected three additional ones for Intrepid's two school administrators and principal. I had my fifth-grader write out a lovely letter to his teacher and placed it delicately in the envelope. We packed everything he needed for today's field trip to the beach. This morning I brought everything over to the school. I received warm smiles and thank-yous and we'll-see-you-in-the-falls. I felt like Suzie Homemaker on steroids.
I picked up coffee on the way home, made toast for Spawnling and Gutsy, put on Curious George so I could get a few minutes to myself (which is what you're reading right now) and was suddenly keenly aware of a small voice in the back of my head.
"Hello? Stupidface? It's me, Reality. Hi there."
"Go away, Reality," I said with a cheery grin on my face. "I'm busy right now."
"What are you busy doing? Convincing yourself that this summer is going to go smoothly?"
"Quiet now, Reality. I'm entitled to my fantasies." I said melodically through clenched teeth, my plastic smile fading ever so slightly.
Reality cackled gleefully. "Oh, Maven. Poor, damaged Maven. You know what's coming, don't you? You can't plead ignorance, honey. Don't you remember the previous years? The tears, the screams, the pleading, the hiding? And that's just you. I haven't even started with what the kids do all summer..."
Red flashed across my eyes. "Shut up, Reality! Shut up, already! You're the stupidface, OK? I'm not listening to your crap. Summer will be great this year! I'm a stronger person. I'm a better mother. I'm a more resourceful individual. I will be organized and colour-coded and, and... action packed!"
"You're a fool, girl. You go crazy in the summer. I mean, look at you: School isn't even officially over and you're talking to an imaginary voice! You are so not going to survive. Wait until the boys start throwing toys at each other and Spawnling runs through poison ivy and Gutsy starts the tractor up when you're going to the bathroom and Intrepid argues with you over getting milk at the..."
"LA LA LA LA LA LA I'M NOT LISTENING I'M NOT LISTENING LA LA LA LA LA..."
"*sigh* Get your fingers out of your ears, Maven. What are you, three?"
(T-minus four hours until summer officially begins. It's going to be awesome!)