My mother had a thing for telling my siblings and I to "call me when you're thirty," when we failed to understand her reasoning for things. When she got tired of explaining, she let us know we'd understand by and by. It was ambiguous and infuriating.
She was never particularly fond of our summer and winter breaks, which I never understood.
Well I get her now.
It was school and work vacation time in the W house over the past couple of weeks, and I've spent more time as a pseudo-stay-at-home-mom than I might have liked.
I won't pretend that there weren't absolutely amazing I-wanna-quit-working-and-stay-with-you-boys-forever moments. We certainly had those. But there were also pull your hair out moments.
Someone is always ALWAYS crying moments.
"He touched my this or that" tattle-tale moments.
Or that time Nelly stuck four DVD's in the PlayStation because he was "trying to help turn on the movie." Yeah, that was fun!
For all the good intentions in the world, cookie baking turns into "How the hell did frosting get on the ceiling?"
And for God's sake, can I please pee alone?
Also, I've learned that a cell phone is a clear indication to my sons that it is time to destroy, destroy, destroy while mom is distracted.
A nap is never a good idea. EVER.
Blankets and pillows are much better as rugs than bed coverings.
And either my children had more costume changes than Beyonce at the On The Run Tour or little elves wore all of the clothes. Either way they all ended up on the floor and in the hamper.
They also discovered a wonderful new use for a hole they made in their wall with the door knob (yeah, this one's a two-for-one) - Dropping each other's toys into the black abyss when one ticked the other off. GREAT.
So my break wasn't much of a break at all.
But if you, like me, were counting down the seconds until school was back in session, don't feel bad.
Mama said there'd be days like this. I just didn't listen.