Home stretch

This summer has been brutal; almost, but not quite on par with a pregnant one.  My kids have become belligerent, continually bored little blue meanies.  Oppositional defiance and sneakiness are abounding, and I am yelling more than is healthy.  School starts again in 18 days, and it's pretty obvious that it's about time.  I've been in school full-time this term, plus house-shopping, plus the having a hundred places to be that comes with the month of July, plus 4 kids who are home aaaaalllll the time, plus I signed myself up for a 6-week bootcamp, and have been waking up at 5am and been too sore to move properly most of the time.

It's just - unsustainable.  That's what it is.  There are bound to be consequences seeping through the floor, like headaches and a messy house and poorly behaved children.

So hey, in a few weeks there will be adults besides myself willing to inflict structure on my kids, and while I anticipate a rough transition, I'm happy to share that load.  And truly, there's a possibility of 2 afternoons a week where Bunny is the only child home and it's during her nap time.  I anticipate filling those moments with a phase of power-naps, followed by a phase of deep-cleaning, followed by a phase where I'm stuffing homework into any spare moment I can find in my life.   

Unless we move, then all bets are off on how any of my time gets spent.

Which, has been a distinct possibility for the last two years, but seems to be getting more possible all the time.  We're getting less picky, and we're in danger of getting priced out of the market entirely as prices keep rising.  We seem destined to settle on something sooner than later.  The settling part is kind of melancholy, but if we make a choice we will own it and run with it.

Regardless, hopefully I'm about to survive my one and only entire summer of being in grad school.  I deserve cookies, except my bootcamp director has me counting calories and avoiding food as rewards....  so I deserve what?  Probably just a sense of accomplishment, but that's hard to feel when one's children are driving one utterly insane.  (Much as I love them... it's been rough).