Even God Knows I’m Screwed
Posted
May 29, 2008 at
11:20 am by
Kadi
Today is my kids’ last day of school. Just the thought of summer break strikes a crippling fear in my heart and now, it is on my doorstep, ringing the doorbell. “I’m not home! Go away!” I’m yelling from under my blanket of denial, but he refuses to leave. I know that I have to open the damn door. I know it. I just cannot bring myself to leave the comfort that has been my denial for the past few days.
I have all of the teacher’s gifts, wrapped and ready to give. It is my last ditch effort to plead with them to take my kids home for the summer. My second grader’s teacher asked if we would keep the class pet, a frog, for the summer. I offered her an even trade…the frog for the second grader. She laughed. I didn’t. Maybe nobody will notice if I forget to pick up the kids after school today. Maybe I can bribe the custodian to lock them in the utility closet for ten weeks. Maybe I can pay her to slide some food and water under the door, so they survive. Maybe I can find a mission trip to send the kids on. What better way to spend the summer than learning about how good life really is in the United States? So they risk Malaria and other unpleasant side effects of third world visitation, it is all part of the experience, right? With great rewards, come great risks!
Okay, so I sound a little desperate. I am. The little beasts were off of school for one extra day, last week. Our house and my temper suffered greatly, that day. They “accidentally” spilled a smoothie in the cable box and broke it. They “accidentally” rode their scooters in the house and made several gouges in the wall, before I caught them. They “accidentally” poured a bottle of baby shampoo all over the bathroom floor, to clean up the ink pen that “accidentally” broke and splatter painted the floor a lovely shade of midnight. They “accidentally” killed my last shred of sanity. I’m not sure how I’m going to avoid being the next “Parent Gone Mad, Drowns Her Children” news headline, but something has to be figured out. I decided to seek out divine intervention, yesterday. I emailed my husband’s uncle, who is a priest, to seek some advice. I kid you not, this was our correspondence:
“Hi Uncle John. How are you? We are fine. The kids will be out of school on Friday. I’m a little scared. It makes me wonder how your sister (my mother in law) survived summer break with 13 kids! Any guidance that you can offer me? Love, Kadi”
“Dear Kadi, I am doing well. Find a summer program for the kids…quickly. Love, Fr. (uncle) John”
I was expecting some words of wisdom, a prayer, a novena, or even a suggestion of exorcism. Nope. He told me to find a place to shove my kids for the summer. Even the priest knows I’m doomed. I’m heading to the store now, to buy a lot of Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, Clorox Wipes, duct tape, rope, Lexapro and other survival essentials. Then, I’m going to schedule some weekly phone “confessions” with Uncle John, because I’m going to need some major absolution of sin, for the next ten weeks! Now, how am I going to leave the house, without opening the door for the grim reaper who is still lurking on my stoop?
Tags: advice, destruction, Lexapro, prayer, priest, sanity, school, summer, survival, vacation |
9 Responses to “Even God Knows I’m Screwed”
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1. Jessica said:
May 29, 2008 @ 6:17 pm
I know, they grow so slow, don’t they?
Your post did remind me though, I need to buy gifts for the teachers! I totally forgot to do this for my preschoolers teachers. For shame! How will I ever show my face there next year. I can’t even remember if I did this last year. Are you supposed to give end of year gifts or is it just for Christmas or Holiday break? I’m so confused!
2. steph said:
May 29, 2008 @ 8:11 pm
You can count the days that they go back to school…that might help ya a little
3. Ashley said:
May 29, 2008 @ 9:40 pm
Do you guys have a huge children’s science museum type thing…or anywhere that you can just let them all run mad. Take a book and chill there for a day…every day…Heck, at least they’ll mess up some place that you don’t have to clean up!! And, if they do something embarrassing, just pretend they aren’t yours! Ha!
Good luck!
4. tanyetta said:
May 29, 2008 @ 11:49 pm
HUGS!!!!!!!!
5. MELISSA RHODES said:
June 1, 2008 @ 9:03 pm
most parents look foward to being with their children.
6. Kadi said:
June 3, 2008 @ 11:58 pm
7. Grandma frm Ks. said:
June 4, 2008 @ 12:34 am
Kadi, Jessica said “they grow so slow don’t they” I have no words of wisdom, I think what works for one mom may not work for another, Just wanted to tell you and Jessica, and yes I do get emotional, That one day you will set in a quiet house (I promise it will happen) and you’ll say, this is to quiet, and then you’ll start with the memories, and you will swear you can hear the crying, the laughter, the running of little feet, and you’ll wonder where the hell did 20 -25 years go so fast, altho you will be happy that you still have some sanity left, and that they are grown to healthy young adults , that you are not only proud of them, but happy you did not kill them every time they tempted you, And it will be quiet, TOO QUIET, and you’ll cry.
8. Kadi said:
June 4, 2008 @ 1:12 pm
I cannot imagine a quiet, clean and childless house. Weird. I pray for lots of grandkids. Enjoy, spoil, send home, repeat as often as necessary! Am I right?
9. Grandma frm Ks. said:
June 4, 2008 @ 5:57 pm
[quote comment="168147"]I cry when even one child is gone for the night. I may stress out, lose my patience, whine about the whining and display other imperfect parent habits, but I miss them terribly and worry endlessly when they are away.
I cannot imagine a quiet, clean and childless house. Weird. I pray for lots of grandkids. Enjoy, spoil, send home, repeat as often as necessary! Am I right?[/quote]
Oh yes mam, you are right, looks like you’ll do fine, you already got the grandma stuff down, and thats how it goes most of the time, Love your writings. Yes btw, grams, grandma, granny, moo,moo, ma,ma any of those names are fine with me, I don’t think they have ever called me Nana,