Vacation from the Summer Vacation.

Today, I did kind of a dumb thing. Want to hear about it?

Linking up with the lovely Kate at Five Minute Friday today. The theme is:


Kate’s graphic is so… peaceful. It’s all cute and pink. Look at it. Preshus widdle flowery thing.

So, hey, if you added a bunch of germs and despair and a thermometer or two, then maybe the image would fit what’s going on over here.

It’s rest time at our house. Enforced rest. Rest, but without permission. The kind that just slams you upside the head and says, “SIT DOWN, WOMAN. THAT’LL DO.”

So, I have mentioned that we have been firmly wedged into a summer schedule that is the King of all Summer Schedules Ever! Like, we WIN at Summer Schedules! Our Summer Schedule is the BIGGEST of them all! Our Summer Schedule could EAT your Summer Schedule for Breakfast! It is SOOOOOO the boss of you!

Perhaps, I am delirious. Fevers will do that to you. (This is called foreshadowing, y’all. Cue the scary music.)

Ok, so it seems the Summer Schedule is now the boss of US.

Strep. Both boys. Same time. Duh duh DUH.

Momsie doesn’t feel so good either, but that’s probably because every time my kids get sick I SWEAR I get the same exact thing at the same exact time so somehow, maybe, someone will bring me a cup of apple juice with a straw. I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO BRING ME SOME JUICE WITH A STRAW, PEOPLE. SOMEDAY.

Is that so much to ask?

“But yes, Momsie,” you ask, “What about the stupid thing? We really want to know about that. No one is ever going to bring you juice with a straw. Move on.”

Ok, I never had a fever. And also, my kids are very thoughtful in that they decided to go for the two for the price of one option on the sickness. But in the midst of all of this we have hit the usual end of June event that is known as:

We are Here Together and I am Sick of you.

So, the kids are like REAAAALLLLY cranky. This morning, Blonde yelled at Red about how he was rolling his toy truck across the room, and then Red responded later by telling Blonde that he was eating his cereal wrong. The two of them are just endlessly picking at them with such tenacity they are like little unhappy termites, chewing away at my sanity.


So, the dumb thing.

I shall re-enact it for you:


Both children are bickering about how to go to the bathroom. I think. I’m not sure. I don’t care anymore.

Red: MOOOOOOOOOMMMM, Blonde is telling me not to go to the bathroom this wayyyyyyyyyy. (Or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t care anymore.)

Me: (For some reason feeling all Dr. Phil about things) Ok. Listen. This is what we need to do here, guys. I think you need to start coming to me when you guys are having an issue. Just say, ‘Mom, Blonde and I are in an argument. Can you help us resolve it?’ And then EVENTUALLY you will remember how we worked it out and you guys will be able to do this all on your OWN!!! Hows that sound?”

Holy macaroni. So dumb. DUMB. Every five minutes. Now, they are not termites chewing at each other – they are chewing at ME.

I know there are ways to help kids with endless picking and bickering and conflict but right now I am living in a reality television show and not the tasteful ones like Amazing Race. Well, really I think that’s the only tasteful one, and it’s not even that tasteful. This is more like the one where two people are stuck out in the wild stark naked. And yes, that is actually a show. On tv. That people watch.

Anyhow, I am now hiding in my office, which is on the top floor and at the very BACK of the house. You have to go past the cat box to get to it. Also, there is a lock on the door.

I give myself about seven minutes of alone time up here before they find me.

Pray for me.

Enforced rest paired with a Mom fail? Not for the faint of heart. But that’s parenting.





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