“I want my Smarties.”

“You ate all your Smarties, Zen Baby.” 

“I WANT my SMARTIES!!!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but they’re all gone.”

“I want my freakin’ Smarties, Mama!.”

“No.”

“Gimme my damn Smarties.”

Zen Baby has moved beyond the mere expletive and has now mastered the use of profanity as an adjective.  Clearly she’s a prodigy.  Or maybe I need to clean up my mouth a bit.   

 Vacation : “a period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation.” Clearly whoever wrote that entry hasn’t spent the first two weeks of summer “vacation” at my house.

Anyone with older children will tell you that the parenting groove changes once your kids go to school fulltime.  You may still be a stay-at-home mom, but it’s a whole new world with out-of-the-home kids.  You’re not in control of their every moment anymore, but you’re not responsible for them every second, either.  It’s odd at first, but then, without you noticing, it becomes the norm to spend more time apart than you do together.  Your routines intersect, but are largely independent of each other.   

There are weekends, but during the rush of the school year they’re more like a moment outside of time than a slice of real life.  Between cartoons, playdates, errands, and church, those hours are pretty well filled with their own routine–one that certainly disrupts the orderly progression of a normal day with the Zen Baby, but is predictible and manageable in its own right.

In summer though,the rules change.  Instead of two days of disrupted time looming before you, it’s two months of unstructured time.  Two months of constant contact, all day, every day.  Two months of the baby not napping and  of hearing “I’m bored” and “There’s nothing to do” and “Can I watch Spongebob?  Can I watch it now?”   

I haven’t spent an entire summer home with my kids since the Diva Girl was a Diva Toddler.  I haven’t wanted to.  Truth be told, I didn’t want to this year, either.  But, neoptisim reared its ugly head, I didn’t get the teaching job that keeps me happily out of the house during the month of July, and so here I am, lost in an endless cycle of swim lessons, library trips, rides on the swings, and melting popsicles.  And I’m doing this with not only Zen Baby and Diva Girl, but with TOM’s brood as well.   

Yes, you heard that right.   In addition to my two, I’m trying not to kill  caring for TOM’s Girlies, aged 6, 7, 11 and of course 13 year old TOD.  Before you start questioning my sanity, let me assure you that that there are perks in this arrangement for me:  TiVo, built in playmates for the Diva, and best of all, I don’t have to cook dinner.  Ever.  Plus, instead of being cooped up in our eighth floor apartment we’re camped out at TOM’s house where we have a big backyard to play in and a community pool down the street. 

What I haven’t had a whole lot of is time to think, what with the exponential explosion of children in my life.  But, now that the older girls are back from their two weeks up north, that’s about to change.  Now I have slave labour help. Hopefully, that’ll translate into having the time to actually blog about my life, instead of just spending all my time living it.    

“Look, Mama!”  Zen Baby tells me, sticking out her tongue to show me the half-chewed pea sitting on its tip.

“Don’t do that, Zen Baby.  It’s not nice manners.”

“No it’s not.  I sharin’ wif you.”

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 ”Come on, Zen Baby!  Bear is on!  You’re going to miss him sniffing you.  If you miss him sniffing you, you won’t know what you smell like.”

“Yah, I do.”

“Yeah?  What do you smell like?”

“I smell like pee!” 

So, this is it.  Ms Sisyphus’ new digs. 

Please don’t mind the mess, I’m still just moving in. What do you think of the paint job, by the way?  The wealth of choices offered by WordPress left me giddy; it was nearly impossible to choose.  This one made my beige-hating soul sing, but I’m not married to it or anything.  

I’ll unpack the archives soon; right now I’m just getting settled in the new space. I don’t have my nice “here’s the link button, you idiot” feature, so I’m going to have to figure that out again,which is a pain in the arse.  But I do get categories! Woo Hoo! And file uploading that even a luddite can love.  Which means there could be pictures!!!

We now resume our regularly scheduled bitching and moaning.  Carry on. 

Oh, and I’m so glad you came!