We are 6 weeks into summer break.
That means for the last 1,000 or so hours of my life, I've been bombarded with questions, he said/she said arguments, pinching, fighting, more questions, a lot of "MOM!!!!'s," bed time routines that last 45 minutes longer than normal and... soccer balls to the face.
Yep. Who knew "Think fast!" was still a thing kids did? I do, now. Because one of my little monsters of a child "plays" it with me every two minutes. It's A LOT of "fun."
Know what else is a lot of "fun," when my other little monster gets up at 7:30 a.m.
Every. Single. Morning. And then some mornings earlier.
No lie, he peaks his little round face into my room, crawls into my bed, and whispers, "Good morning, Mommy." To which I respond, "No, no, no no no no." And he laughs. And I roll over, hoping he will get the point and go back to his bed, but he never does. Instead, he does one of following: talks VERY LOUDLY to the dogs, attempts to tickle me, or starts with the *#$%@$@* questions. Actually, it's usually all three at once.
Once I'm somewhat functioning, I make everyone breakfast and figure out the plan for the day, which never goes as planned.
Walks with the dogs include a minimum of five 5-minute breaks, usually on random people's lawns with my son sprawled out in the shade. Shopping trips at Wal-Mart become one big tickle fest, where it becomes clear that my daughter's only mission in life is tickle her brother as much as possible. And visits to the pool would be fun, except my daughter thinks anything that isn't a hot tub is ice water.
So, there she stands, dipping in one toe at a time... asking me more questions.
Occasionally, I'll have vague, half-present conversations with friends on the phone. And by friends I mean, friend. Yes, I have one poor little friend who gets to hear me huff and puff, and sound like a crazy person every time we talk on the phone. The huffing and puffing is cued by the miraculous amount of things my kids need to tell me as soon as I get on the phone, usually starting about 30 seconds into each conversation.
Whenever we hang up, though, I feel an insane amount of guilt come over me, as I think: She probably thinks I hate being a mom. I don't hate being a mom. I hate all the questions, and all the things they want to show me, and all the peanut butter sandwiches I make every day, and all the bed times. I definitely hate all the bed times. Every night I have to put them to bed and I hate it. But I don't hate...wait, do I hate being a mom? Oh my God, I hate being a mom... Oh my God, I hate myself.
Then I usually lock myself in the bathroom to sulk or cry, and try my hardest to disappear for a minute. But unfortunately that doesn't even work well because our bathroom door-knob came off like nine months ago, and I still haven't fixed it yet. Because really, I don't even care. Until that moment. That is the moment I wish I could deadbolt that stupid bathroom door shut so I can hide from these little people I'm supposed to be raising, but I can't.
And I really, really hate myself for never fixing it.
And as it goes, any attempt to lock myself in the bathroom is only ruined when one of our big headed dogs pushes that door open, and I look up to see four faces -- two kids and two dogs -- waiting for me. Impatiently waiting for me. So I exhale and begin answering every question they have.
Their persistence is impressive. Their energy is 10 times what mine was at their age. Their ability to laugh, despite how serious I try to be is annoying, yet something I am thankful for.
It helps me stay grounded. It helps me relax, and not be a mom who has a big ol' stick up her butt all the time. It helps me see how uptight I can be, and how that's not fun for anyone... mostly me, actually.
Most importantly, though, it helps me remember why being a mom was something I, so ambitiously, wanted to be many years ago. It's for the little moments. And the big ones, and the ones in between. To connect and teach and learn and love. And laugh... laughing is good. We have five more weeks until school starts -- when both my babies will be in school full time for the first time -- and I have two goals:
To loosen up so we can have more fun with each other.
And to fix that stupid door-knob.
This was originally published on Boycott The BS, a blog about living the life you want. For more updates, please find us on Facebook!