Summer is in full swing, and I for one am already doing my darndest to hide from my children. I know, I know – some of you are already screaming, “You’re such a terrible mother!” But really, I’m just being honest, and I think most parents will appreciate my perspective: It’s all fun and games until it’s not, somewhere around mid-June.
Sure, those first couple of weeks are grand. My coeds are home from school, we’re enjoying the laidback vibes of late mornings and no real schedules, and the flighty Indiana weather finely is cooperating. Our six-pack is generally kind to one another and in the spirit of family reunited, we ignore the irritating idiosyncrasies of each other. But like our usually low Meijer bill, harmony will not last.
Now, all I can do is focus on the noise and the mess and the never-ending loads of laundry. I get swept up in their sibling drama and inevitable boredom and pleas for cash. I can’t get a single moment to myself because someone, somewhere always seems to need me. Why? Did I not raise you to be independent? Go. Away.
Too soon I find myself longing for August, when my time and my house will once again become my own. When communication with my darling offspring will equate to periodic check-ins via FaceTime. When I can return to an “out-of-sight, out-o- mind” mentality and not obsess over the occasional bad choices my young adults will most certainly make. When a half-gallon of milk has a decent chance of expiring in the fridge.
Terrible mother? Probs. But at least I’m honest.