I have a sty in my eye.  It appeared while I was on vacation and then it moved around.  Sometimes it was in my right eye, sometimes in my left, sometimes on the top lid, sometimes on the bottom.  This vacation was a really active one, where we woke up and blasted out of the hotel, eager to get to some Canadian adventure or other.  So, I did what was necessary—I put my contacts in and coated that gross little bastard with a thick streak of eyeliner every morning and didn’t give it a thought until bedtime.  Being a family of five, we brought everything with us on our vacation but the kitchen sink, oh, and anything to remove eye makeup.  So, I used baby wipes.  Yes, I realize that they have drug stores in Vancouver, too, and I could have easily popped in to any one of them and bought myself some proper eye makeup removal products.  But, we were always in kind of a hurry to see the sights and I didn’t even think about it until each night, when I stood there, baby wipe in hand, gazing at the red pustule on my eyelid.

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On vacation in Victoria.

Teen: This hotel has free internet! Awesome!

Mother: This hotel has a laundry room! Awesome!

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Waking, baking,

breakfast in the making.

Dressing, no stressing,

schedule is not pressing.

Preening, sun-screening

saftey has new meaning.

Bikes, Hikes

outings and the likes.

“Water, daughter!” 

sun is getting hotter.

Lunching, munching

sounds of kiddies crunching.

Rest, nap fest

mommy knows what’s best.

Energize, bright eyes

Return to grass and sunny skies.

Explore, outdoor

Who could ask for more?

Befriending, play pretending

popsicles unending.

Mess up, dress up

“They look so cute!” I fess up.

Sunning, funning

Until the day is done-ing.

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Remember the post about the conversation I recently had with my mother in law? It ended with the promise of another story from the Prescott family archives. I am a woman of my word (unless I forget which happens quite often.) The following story is not for the weak of constitutions. It is a real life account of what can happen when one has an overactive uterus and a long overdue second honeymoon in progress. Brace yourself…

After twenty three years of marriage, ten children and several thousand trips to the doctor, church and the school pick up line, Dean and Julie desperately needed some alone time. Being a one income family of twelve, did not allow for the luxury of a vacation, much less one without kids. So, when the opportunity for a business trip presented itself, it was a dream come true for the frazzled couple. Even though their destination was only a few hours away, by plane, Julie was a tad reluctant to leave her children. Sure, the older ones were more than capable of tending to the brood. Sure, they had wonderful neighbors who promised to help keep an eye on the house. However, leaving a house full of kids unattended was a little unsettling. Despite her worries, Dean and Julie took the trip to Utah.

Julie had given birth to eight feisty boys and two girls, at this point in life. The boys were notorious for performing dangerous stunts and getting into all kids of mischief. Julie had visited the emergency room so many times, that they practically knew the Prescott family by name. It was no surprise when one of the boys, fell out of a tall palm tree in the front yard, and suffered a broken arm and concussion. In fact, this particular child was such a jokester, that Julie playfully kicked him and laughed as he lay on the sidewalk. She was so used to falling prey to his tricks, that she never imagined that he was actually hurt. It was this type of thing that lay in the back of Julie’s mind as she unpacked her suitcase at the hotel. Thoughts of worst case scenarios flooded the unsettled mother’s mind. Finally, after much persuading from Dean, she breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself to relax. As all of you parents know, those words written in a parenting story, always mean trouble…

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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?

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It’s been 24 hours since I dropped off my wife and sons at the airport for a trip to Florida with Grandma. This should be the part where I start talking about how I’m pining away for the children’s laughter. How the creaky step on our staircase once reminded me that the house was a living, vibrant place but is now lonely and empty. How I’m sitting here in my worn, overstuffed chair, smoking a pipe, and gazing out the window counting the minutes — nay, seconds — until my precious family returns to the warm bosom of our humble abode.

Fuck that.

I’m as giddy as one of Gwen Stefani’s pets. I’m enjoying myself immensely. I picked up the house yesterday and it was still clean when I woke up this morning. Last night I poured myself a big glass of red wine and watched a movie with lots of violence and swearing. Before 9 p.m. I know, right? This morning I went to Target, and it only took ten minutes. I can’t believe how liberating it is to have the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Not shower until noon? Play the piano at 2 a.m.? Blast cheesy cock rock through the stereo? It’s all good.

And my level of efficiency has increased! Here’s what I’ve accomplished so far:

1. Cleaned the garage
2. Organized the bookshelf by subject, then author, then title
3. Wrote a 400 page memoir
4. Read the entire Bible — twice
5. Learned all 32 Beethoven sonatas (to be fair, not by memory)
6. Built two houses for Habitat for Humanity
7. Discovered a cure for cancer, won the Nobel prize, spent the cash award on craft beer and expensive bourbon

I can’t wait to see what I get done this afternoon! Ah, four more days of being responsible for no other living creature but myself and the dog.

OH SHIT, THE DOG!

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