Mike Moh is the kids’ former tae kwon do instructor who moved to LA to pursue an acting career, but he continues to teach and inspire his students through his blog. The other day, he wrote about the concept of a “Dream Board.” He described this as corkboard that you use to display your goals—like motivational sayings, or pictures of things you wish to attain through hard work. I immediately had a vision of my “Dream Board,” and tacked upon it would be a picture of my family.

A chorus of “awww” would be appropriate now, but let me explain why a photo of us together would be significant. Well, in this snapshot, all three of my kids have their heads attached to their bodies, and I’m still in the picture. Yes, my goal–my dream for the summer is to make it to the end without decapitating them or running away in the minivan with our life’s savings and a six-pack of diet cream soda.

Yes, I was the one who wrote all about how much I love children and how I couldn’t wait to have them all home with me all summer. And, this happens every year. There is an adjustment period at the beginning of break. They open their heads, remove their brains and ability to self-entertain and hide those things somewhere, and I find myself wanting to strangle them or send them to military camp. It takes a few weeks for me to reach the level of frustration that drives me to hold a Family Meeting, where I officially tell them what little shit assholes they all are and outline exactly what behaviors they need to change if they don’t want to be murdered or abandoned or sent away somewhere that will teach them to appreciate what they have here.

It’s mostly the bickering with each other for entertainment that’s so annoying. The boy does something to one of the girls and they screech, at a volume and pitch that is indescribably disproportionate to the offense, which means it’s a game to them, too. So he does something else and then they all scream and run around and soon it’s just this screaming, screeching and roaring that ends with the inevitable bang or boom that results in panicked sobbing because someone got hurt. Then I have to yell at them about why they shouldn’t have been picking at each other for fun while also tending to the bump or cut. It’s that peculiar mixture of anger and concern that all parents get to experience way too often.

Their second annoying thing is the food and beverage getting. Earlier today, my older daughter was getting the little one some water from the dispenser inside the fridge. She had the little one’s head IN the fridge while she pushed the water dispenser thingy to squirt the water into the little one’s mouth. But, it didn’t go in the little one’s mouth, it went all over her face and the floor and shrieks and wetness followed. Why? Why? That’s what I want to know. Why? The child is nine, she’s bright, she’s responsible and a good kid, so why would she think that this is an OK thing to do? You’d assume she’d know better. And how, as a parent, can you think of everything under the sun to tell them to do and not to do? You can’t. So, you react in the only rational way—like some spitting demon from the depths of hell–WHAT-WERE-YOU-THINKING?WHY-WOULD-YOU-THINK-THAT’S-A-GOOD-IDEA?GET-A-TOWEL-AND-CLEAN-THIS–NOT-THAT-TOWEL-JUST-LET-ME-DO-IT.

That’s the thing about the older kids, they can get themselves snacks, but because it’s SUMMER they don’t clean up after themselves like they do when they’re only home for a few hours a day (and spend most of that time sleeping) during the school year. So, there are Kool Aid stains on the counter, half eaten ice cream sandwiches melting on the table, a dish that has naked grape stems and water in it, a pyrex dish half full of peanut butter with bitten off pieces of apple stuck in it (and the spoon used to scoop the peanut butter cemented to the lid of the peanut butter jar), and a failed attempt at home-made popsicles dumped in sink with the toothpicks still in them so you can’t just rinse them down the drain, you have to pick the stick out of each slushy cube.

While you’re cleaning that up, they go off and pick and poke at each other and make each other bellow until someone gets hurt.

And what am I doing during this time? Am I sleeping? Am I on the computer? Chatting on the phone? I must be somehow neglecting them badly, for them to have all this free time to get into so much trouble. No, I am focusing on the second snapshot on the Moh inspired corkboard. It’s a picture of our closed and locked front door, because the goal is to leave the God-damned house. If your family is anything like mine, then leaving the house is a feat that’s almost as difficult as climbing Mount Everest. It’s like the hardest thing in the world, just to get done what you need to get done to leave the house. Partly because these trolls who breathe my air and eat my food and dirty my living space can’t seem to keep quiet and still for the time it takes to get ready to leave. They’d rather pinch and flick at each other and make each other squeal and fall down stairs or bump into things and then get out a five-course meal for themselves while I’m in the shower, leaving the carnage all over the kitchen for me to howl about when I see it. That’s much better than going to the pool or a museum or the zoo, right?

It’s time for the annual family meeting. It’s worked before. Getting it all out in the open, calling order to the chaos, drawing up summer rules, brainstorming consequences for behavior, writing it down and posting it up on a wall somewhere. For some reason, it’s magic. I always like to give summer a chance before having one though, hoping that this will be the year where they just get it without having to go through this ritual. Maybe next spring I’ll put that on a corkboard.

This was the “Summer Bad” portion of this two-part blog, in case you hadn’t figured that out. “Summer Good” is here.

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