Mama Mama Quite Contrary

Soon after we decided to send Vivi to kindergarten at our neighborhood public school, we learned that the school was offering a four-week summer camp.  We figured this would be a great opportunity for her to make some new friends, get used to the building, and have some fun.  Plus, at $50 a week for full-day camp, we couldn't exactly scoff at the price.  In fact, I believe my exact words were, "You're going to take my kid for eight hours a day, five days a week, and charge me $50.  Are you shitting me?" Anyway, do you want to know what Vivi learned at camp yesterday? Sure you do. She learned about George Washington. She learned how to fly a kite.  (Literally-- not the figurative way I taught her.) She learned that cacti live in the desert in the Southwestern United States.  And... she learned the word pussy.  (I'm not talking about cats here.) I guess you get what you pay for. 

There are some days when being a mother really sucks. (Actually, that's literally every day for me since the Turtles are still going strong with breastfeeding. Ahh.... I'm already digressing from the point.) Anyway, in the figurative sense of motherhood suckage, we all probably have had more days than we can count when we would give ANYTHING for an hour of solitude. You know what I mean... that glorious chunk of time when you can do whatever the heck you want and have the freedom from worrying about someone else. Then there are days when I feel nothing but pure joy around my children. Complete, in-the-moment delight at what I have created. One of those days was yesterday. It was warm and sunny and the girls got to eat dinner at our new backyard picnic table. Oh yeah, and there was lots and lots of watermelon.

This morning we shipped Vivi off to camp. I never envisioned camp for a three-year-old but by mid-June I was pretty certain that I was going to need some help at the end of August if I wanted to survive the summer with my sanity intact. So all this week my little spitfire will be getting her kicks from 8:30 until 3:30 under someone else's supervision. Last night, in the heat and chaos of our "vacation" week coming to an end, I was ironing name labels into Vivi's clothes and packing lunches. My husband was beginning the mental and organizational adjustment of returning to work and we all were feeling a bit excited and anxious about the whole prospect of the two of them being out of the house all day. Vivi went to bed at about 8 and by 8:30 I had climbed in with her. I wanted to snuggle and hold onto my first baby who is so much a kid that I can hardly stand it. "Mama, you can sleep in my bed tonight," she said. When I told her that I would take up too m...

As I've written before, I am no big fan of the summer but being pregnant makes it about as enjoyable as a root canal. Since most human pregnancies run about 40 weeks, I've done my best to limit any overlap between carrying a child and the summer heat. (I am just that type.) I admit that being nauseous and tired in July and August is still probably preferable to being 32+ weeks pregnant with heartburn in the middle of the heat but I'll complain about both because that's what I am good at. I think the reason I am cranky is because I just haven't been my usual peppy self. My house is a mess. I've barely cooked. Longstanding playdates and appointments have literally vanished from my consciousness and I've found myself groveling for forgiveness. The one prenatal workout I did resulted in a yucky cold that I currently have. Oh, and Vivi has joined a pack of wild wolves and seems to be thriving despite my absence. As my sister in North Carolina says, "Things ...

I know this sounds blasphemous but I am really not that crazy about summer. I hate the heat and the humidity and every summer day seems to end with me feeling sweaty, tired, and cranky. I hate having to slather my and Vivi's fair skin with sunscreen or make sure we have hats on even though it's too bloody hot for hats. I'm no fan of winter either but summer seems to have edged it out as my least favorite season. When I was a kid growing up in Vermont, I loved summer and all that it meant: the break from school, setting up a tent in our backyard, playing outside ALL DAY. Of course, I remember feeling bored sometimes but I don't recall ever feeling like I just couldn't wait for the heat to pass. Now, as an adult, I don't feel like my life has slowed to a summer pace. I feel like I have as many responsibilities as I have the rest of the year except now I am doing them without central air. (Despite what W and his cronies all say, I really don't remembe...