Not that I'm counting, but there are approximately 76 days until school starts again. Not that I'm counting. Yesterday was the first 'official' day where we had all the MYP home. Well honestly, we weren't home. We spent a lot of time in the car. Eleven different times I started up the van and got us to the next place. Why you ask? Well there was summer school, two separate camps, an allergy appointment, and another couple stops for necessities.
In between I made granola, bread and cinnamon rolls, supper, cleaned the kitchen, assigned some tasks to some slightly unwilling MYP, and did some weeding.
Then on top of that there is excitement building. Requests being made. Plans (so they think) forming. For grandiose birthday parties in the next three weeks. I especially love hearing the birthday lists and desires for ridiculous amounts of fun at 9:36 at night. That is when I'm feeling like this:
So why am I blogging this? I don't know. Maybe I'm feeling like one of those people that like to complain. Maybe I'm feeling guilty for looking at blogs and FB status updates of mothers who are embracing each and every moment with their precious gifts of children and I am feeling exhausted after day one of summer vacation. Maybe I'm thinking that children should be born to people in their early 20's and not 37 so there's more youthful energy at times like this.
Another day begins anew. I will embrace it and the moments I have with our MYP. But before I do, could you send a little cheese over for me to have with my whine? Thank you.