The boys started swim lessons this week. Everyday for two weeks at 11 a.m., they are fighting their father's genes in order to become swimmers. Except, we live in Wisconsin, and at 11 a.m., it's a little less-than-pleasant in the pool water. Between telling Hoover to get back in the pool and Larry Potter that, no, I did not buy goggles for him after he went to bed last night, I am enduring the never-ending fight with Mini Me's shrill whining and complaining. Yesterday was the first day, and honestly, by the time I went to bed last night, I had to remind myself that we will be doing it all again for the next nine business days.
Tee-ball starts next week, in which I've enrolled Hoover and MM in, one day a week for 6 weeks. Tuesdays will soon become my arch nemesis and also the reason I go to CostCo and bring a cooler in my mini-van all summer long.
|Don't hit your head on the iceberg, boys!|
The house, which Sunday was beautiful and picked up, with laundry done and even a nice candle burning in the kitchen, has become the focus of the next TLC show, "My kids are out of school and I just can't keep up with the mess!" I swear, I only leave them to go to the bathroom, write the blog, or fold laundry. They are talented, I give them that.
Years ago, maybe even before LP was born, I would think what my summers would be like with my children. We'd all go to the nature preserve and learn about things like bugs and trees, have a picnic lunch, go swimming, sing songs, and then they'd fall asleep on the way home while listening to their favorite tape of children's songs. Meals would be simple and nutritious, and no one would complain. My kids would all get along and help each other out, because they loved each other and I was a gleaming example of how to treat people in this world.
Yeah. So far, that's not working out so well. And I'm afraid if I tried to implement all that now, I would have an even bigger revolt on my hands than I already do.
I have to get the boys ready for their daily ice dip now, and find something to occupy MM for an hour, besides string cheese and complaining. Summer's a real B, ya'll.