I may or may not be counting down the days until 1st grade begins for Sir O. Or the days until all my kids move out and my house will stay clean for long enough to be worth cleaning. Except I know I will miss all this busy chaos. It's awfully alive over here. The pace is exhausting, but the innocent narcissistic energy with an electric hum is pretty fantastic, in its way.
Still, naps?! Magic erasers?! Oxyclean?! Mighty Mini Popsicles, carpet cleaner solution by the gallon, ikea art smocks, the thousands of times in a week I am yelling "Where are your shoes?!", The hundreds of meals I've made that nobody is willing to eat, the many nights that I have pint-sized visitors around 2am, library outings, playing in the sprinklers, toting reluctant kids to and from swimming lessons, and forever feeling guilty that we aren't fitting more music practice into the crazy organic form our days take. And when to write?
Mosquito bites, sunscreen, a million items lost and half of them found again, deadheading the rosebushes, watering the flowers, harvesting from our own garden, birdwatching at breakfast, the kitchen floor wars, not to mention the boy's bathroom revolt, lots of discouraging late night conversations about whether/how we will ever have a home of our own, fair quantities of shattered glass, Sir O riding the pink bike I got when I was 7 or 8, sending the older boys out with magnifying glasses and watching them figure out on their own how to fry bugs, watching Bunny start popping out teeth like a pez dispenser.
And a fair amount of headaches and backaches and ubiquitous sleep-deprivation pain.
Full, fragmented, crazy, wonderful, exhausting Summer.
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