The Boys of Summer

In two weeks, when my boys are driving me crazy, and I'm drunk 6 hours a day, and I am convinced I'm going to be hospitalized in full fetal whimpering-ness, remind me that at some point, I WAS actually looking forward to summer.

I am looking forward to NOT packing lunches. Smelling ham (which, by the way, is the only luncheon meat my kids will eat) at 6:30 in the morning is nauseating. And our school (not that I'm complaining) is peanut free, which means on those lazy mornings when I am desperate to throw something in the box and be done with it, I can't make that blessed lunchtime staple, the pb&j. So, it's always ham and a fruit, and Kool Aid and rummaging through the dishwasher because I pack in a reusable box that requires no plastic bags, and oy. I'm glad not to have to do that.

Also, I am looking forward to not chasing down uniform socks. The boys have to wear white crew socks, and it seems that no pair ever elope to the laundry basket together. There is always a third wheel, a pathetic hanger-on who can't take the hint. Those socks have to be bleached every week, and while they are still white, there are about a third as many as there were at the beginning of the year and therefore have to be washed a third again as often to keep the kids' feet covered.

Also, I am TOTALLY over looking for that godforsaken belt in the morning. For whatever reasons, my kids come home and do some sort of ritualized strip every afternoon. Shoes flop into the playroom. Socks and shorts go by the wayside in the bathroom. Shirts often, but not always, make it up the stairs. The belt? The belt mystically disappears. We find it under the sofa, in the laundry basket, under the dresser. That thing has a nightlife I can't imagine. We turn off the dark and the belt goes wild.

I am also over the vast forest of trees that comes home every afternoon. A Brazilian rain forest goes into that red folder every day. Pulp describing parties, reminders, worksheets, homework, invitations, sign ups, a BILLION things in that folder every day. If I don't sort through it all, it accumulates in a very visible way that tells the teacher I'm not paying attention. If it came through email, I could ignore it without anyone noticing. Much less embarrassing for all concerned.

I could also live without bedtime rituals. Not that teeth shouldn't be brushed in the summer, or that baths don't need to be taken. Baths just need to be taken a LITTLE less frequently in the summer. (Scientific proof shows that kids get clean from the chlorine in the pool). Hair? Greasy, sunblocked hair is very 'in' this year. Floss those teeth and let's be done with it.

So, before I become totally disillusioned and revert to my summer alcoholism, let's hear it for summer! When a kid can be a kid, and a parent can be slightly less of a parent. Cheers!