What Summer Means to an Irritable Mother

My first-grade son has only twelve school days left. I don't know where the school year went. I still haven't learned all the names of his classmates. (It's not my fault that Isabelle and Caitlin look exactly the same, or that three boys are named Jackson-I can never remember which three.) Technically, it's still spring until June 21^st, but we all know that summer really begins the second school ends. I should celebrate, right? Summer's almost here.

When I was a kid, I loved summer. Swimming! No school! A family vacation! A later bedtime! It didn't get any better than that. But now that I'm a mom, I have a very different understanding of what summer means.

Summer means...the pools are open. And my kids will want to go swimming every single day. Chlorine-bleached hair and sunburns. Hours and hours soaking in the too-warm or too-cold water, tugging my swimsuit down to keep my stretch marks and cellulite mercifully concealed. Kids' swim lessons taught by bored, brain-cooked teenagers half my age. Professionally-waxed, bikini-clad MILFs wearing designer sunglasses, gossiping with other MILFs while their kids cut in front of my kids on the waterslide. Those horrible, dimly-lit showers with the hair-clogged drains (I always expect to get athlete's foot, but never do-maybe this summer I will!). The wet toilet seats.

Summer means...no school. My precious children can spend all day with me. No more drop-offs and pick-ups at school five days a week. A temporary break from my Homework Nazi duties. No more PTA meetings (no more guilty feelings for never attending PTA meetings). No more having to wake the kids up to get ready for school. No more searching for books checked out from the school library or missing homework assignments. No more worrying about the kids catching horse or rat flu from their classmates.

Maybe summer's not so bad after all!

Wait a second. What was that part about precious children spending all day with me? Every day? Every single day?! AND they get to stay up later? Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

Summer means...a family vacation. A nice, long car ride with frequent potty breaks in filthy rest stops and at least five million Are We There Yets. Sweet little feet tap-dancing on the back of my seat. McDonald's drive-thrus in three states. Ice cream that melts too fast. Waiting in line for thirty minutes to ride the kiddie roller coaster. Mosquito bites. Hotels with outdoor pools! (Remember how much I like pools?!) Even worse than hotels with outdoor pools: campgrounds with lakes (I see kids swimming in these lakes, but, oh, dear God, please, no, I can't swim in murky water with the fish and snakes and duck poop!).

My husband heard me screaming. He just reminded me that we're taking a vacation without the kids this summer. Oh my gosh, summer really is the best time of the year!

Dear Nana and Papa,

Thank you so much for agreeing to watch the kids for a week this summer! They really are precious kids (when they're not screeching and throwing stuff and eating all the ice cream and telling me I'm wrong, which they RARELY do). I wish I could spend all day, every day, with them, but you guys forced Hubby and me to borrow your condo in gorgeous Estes Park for a week. The reservations are made, and it's too late to cancel our plans now! Oh well. I guess I'll have to suffer.

Love,
Maria