I think we’re heading into overdrive for the next couple of weeks. School starts in sixteen short days and we haven’t been to the water park, books are coming overdue at the library, and the state park pass needs to hang on the rearview a few more times.
The van somehow needs to hold our camping gear, four children and their bicycles, and Gus’s travel swing next week when we head up to NC for a few days.
The laundry is a never-ending cycle and until today, I was on a cooking hiatus. There’s just something about summer that doesn’t scream casserole.
It’s more of a “let’s just eat sandwiches at a picnic table after we hike a mountain” kind of season.
I love sandwiches with a garden fresh tomato. I never really got the difference until I grew my own. Amelia and I picked a bowlful of big red beauties today.
Yesterday we had a big girl day. We bought new shoes and socks and headbands and bookbags and Annabelle said, “I think tomorrow we should stay home and not spend any more money.”
We’ve been to the new dentist. They weren’t happy about switching but insurance is a luxury you just can’t toss aside.
The flat screen tv was winning them over until Madelynne had to have a tooth pulled. Infected since the permanent was coming in where a baby still was. And she has to go back in a couple of days to have another one take care of and a filling. Apparently, enamel is an afterthought for her teeth.
Annabelle is cavity free, but she’s the one I have to inspect each morning because she hates to brush. So how does this mama explain the fairness of that? Or that the tooth fairy must have been confused that Madelynne switched rooms because she forgot to come! Tragedy.
MOPS is gearing up and my to-do list is a mile long and I must beg the question of why I do these things to myself?
The wall behind the computer is covered in diaper points stickers I haven’t entered in a month and today for the first time ever Amelia fought me about taking a nap.
Mothering is mania. It’s full-out all the time and sometimes I just want a minute to catch my breath. Sometimes I just need a moment to look at the tangle of brown arms and legs and indistinguishable heads that cover my couch and remember why I let myself be run ragged by this time every summer.
I’m tired of the little arguments and the emotional meltdowns and the constant running in the kitchen that makes me dizzy but I’m not tired of swimming at the gorge or playing at the park or filling up the plastic pool.
It’s mania, but it’s blessings.