My Gift To Me This Holiday

We’re fast approaching the 2 week holiday break from school. I’m terrified. It’s a very real fear, one that begins the week before Thanksgiving and doesn’t abate until we’ve landed safely (and alive) on the other side of the break. So this year, I’ve decided to forgo asking my husband for any gifts and give myself a gift, in the form of day camp for my boys. My friends and family don’t understand my fear and decision. This is a joyous time, one of enjoying relaxing days with no school, no homework, and fun holiday traditions. Right?

I recently experienced a single school holiday. One. Day. It reminded me of what I am in for. Let me explain…

Recently there was a school holiday. Feeling adventurous (insane), I kept all 3 boys home instead of paying for day camp. I had visions of baking bread, watching a movie and going to the trampoline house in the afternoon. They’d need to burn off some energy from the homemade cookies we made after the bread, because of course, making bread was such fun, cookies seemed the next logical step.

Since we’re all moms and probably reading this during our only free time – while on the toilet – or for the quick 3 seconds between kids’ asking for a snack/juice box/attention/potty/dire emergency that IS having a booger on your finger and no tissue, I’ll keep my story brief.

Why I’m Giving Myself the Gift of Day Camp:

  1.  7 year old invited his (girl) friend over, then proceeded to scream and cry because she didn’t want to, “Hang like a man and play pool.”
    11 and 12 year old wanted to earn money cleaning the bathroom. I heard, “Eww, this has to be your poop stain because mine are always hard. You need to clean this.”
  2. I needed to walk the dog and asked 7 year old to come. He comes downstairs with duct tape on his mouth and I’m able to get out that he wants to keep it on. He then screams bloody murder as we walk the neighborhood, with me swatting my hands at him telling him to stop. We get home and he says, “That was cool; now everyone thinks you torture me!” Yay me?
  3. I hear yelling upstairs. Then I hear 12 year old say, “No, I like you better handcuffed to the chair.”
  4. 11 and 12 year old decide to take their cleaning business pro. My neighbor hires them to clean their porch. That night I see a post in our neighborhood Google forum. She thought it funny to hear them talking while working, “We’re going to have to start charging more after this house.” Then, “Yeah, it’s like the porch of grossness. Like it should win an award for nastiest porch on the planet.” My boys have not learned the art of quiet talk.
  5. 12 year old decides I’ve had a rough day (he could tell??) so he brings me a glass of wine. I’m impressed until I take a drink and have to spit it out. His “cocktail” included my (very nice) red wine, Pepsi, and chocolate sauce.
  6. My husband had to work late (coincidence?), so I made them promise to be good while I relaxed in the bath. I was enjoying the quiet when they barged in. “Mommy, he put my pool balls in his pants and said they’re his “man balls” and won’t give them back!” His older brother sees me in the bath and runs out yelling, “Oh gross, she has bubbles all over her boobs. Haha, she has bubble boobs.”

This is ONE Day. I’m not sure I’m up for 1 week. And after last year, when the boys decided it would be fun to play Santa for the neighbor kids, I don’t know what to expect this year. The fire department has already sent an email asking my boys to remember that chimneys are not a playground and have requested I hide our ladder. Apparently, they don’t like pulling kids from chimneys on Christmas Eve.

Hot buttered rum anyone?

 

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