Lowering the bar

Yesterday was the first day of summer and by 8:05a.m. I had already been asked, “What can we do?”  By 10 am I posted on my Facebook,

“It's the first day of summer and my kids somehow got the impression that every minute of summer is supposed to be blissfully fun and entertaining. I think I'll make the day extra boring just to lower the bar a little...”

Fighting through the boredom was tough at first. There was bickering, whining, and several requests for food even though they weren’t really hungry.  It required an act of the will on my part not to want to escape to the zoo, park, Chuck E Cheese, or at least turn on the TV. (okay we eventually did turn on the tv, and later rode bikes to the park).  But somehow I felt that the experience of boredom was good for them.

And after fighting through for a while, their creative side came out. And they launched a full blown NERF gun war.

And the fun and laughter and creativity that is what summer should be began.

That’s how I wanted the story to end.

But in reality my little guys wanted to go outside while the big boys were having this NERF battle, and since it was truly gorgeous out, we headed to the front yard. My one year old wanted EVERYTHING my three-year-old played with except when he was climbing the cement steps or trying to eat rocks.  Meanwhile his brother found a sippy cup with milk in the trunk of his Lil’ Tikes car, which had been there for who-knows-how long.  He had already taken several sips before I confiscated and smelled the very rancid milk.  The phone rang and while I’m on the phone my three year old whines incessantly for some fresh milk and one of the NERF warriors yells out the window for some injustice which demanded my refereeing skills.

Enough is enough… the front yard isn’t working…. let’s try the backyard.  Off we go… and the baby heads straight for the sandbox… and proceeds to play with something in there… I begin to wonder what it could be? A closer look reveals some sort of animal poop. Nice.  At this point I start completely losing it.  I call my husband hoping for some words of wisdom, advice, or encouragement. He suggests I start drinking. It’s only noon.

I tell everyone to come inside and turn on the TV and sit at the kitchen table wondering how I’m going to survive the summer.

I had been psyching myself up for weeks that this summer was going to be different. I wasn’t going to yell and get frustrated and turn to the TV as a babysitter. My kindergartner was actually going to do the summer packet his teacher had given him to work on this summer.  During the little ones naps, the big boys would read quietly and work on bettering themselves.  And we’d play lots of games and have lots of fun.  And family life would look just like how I imagine it should. And I’d be “the perfect mom”. 

While sitting at the table, between praying and contemplating taking my husband’s advice to pour myself a drink, I decided that maybe it wasn’t the kids that needed to lower their expectations of what summer would look like after all… maybe it was me. And suddenly I was ready to face the chaos again…