40 Days and 40 nights (of Summer)

Before I begin, I feel the need to tell you that I am writing this post from my bathroom. No – not like that – it's not what you think. Right now I am sitting fully clothed in an empty bathtub hiding from my children.

They think we're playing hide-and-seek, which I guess technically we are. Except it's going to be more like hide-and-freak when they discover I've nailed the door shut. Summer vacation is the modern day equivalent of 40 days and 40 nights. You don't know exactly how long it is, probably because your will to live may flee if you actually counted the days, but it's universally understood that it's a long, long, LONG time.

It starts out with an innocent walk around the block, but before you know it you're wandering aimlessly through a sand box in unbearable heat and people are writing books about your superior perseverance.

We have seen elephant shows, dog shows and sea lion shows. We've seen bison and birds and fish and paintings of bison and birds and fish. We've been to Ted Drewes, The Custard Station and made snow ice cream (hello MAY!). We've been to pools, libraries, play lands, parks, gardens, hiking trails, concerts and art fairs. And I am tired.

People see my Facebook updates and are surprised by how much I'm on the go with three little ones, but they don't understand the alternative. If we stay cooped up in the house for more than 45 minutes there is a good chance my three sweet little girls will use their Magic Twinkle Toes Fairy Princess Wands to bludgeon each other to death.

At least if they start to fight while we're out in public I can walk away really fast and pretend I don't know them and it becomes someone else's problem.

Our moments of home-bound placidity are pretty much limited to watching cartoons and sleeping. And yes, YES, I know. I know there are parents out there who have lost children, children who have lost parents, families dealing with illness or injury who would give the world to take their kids to the park. Trust me - I think about these things all the time and I realize that everything I've been blessed with can vanish in the blink of an eye. I've seen it.

But it's just... I mean... I just... I just need to poop. And buy a new bra. And read the book that's been gathering dust on my night stand. And listen to my Eazy E CD. And have a phone conversation. And finish a meal. And plant some flowers. And not bribe and negotiate my way through the grocery store. But mainly just poop.

In a few short weeks my youngest will start pre-school two mornings a week. Which means that I will have (drum roll please) TWO HOURS AND TEN MINUTES TWO DAYS A WEEK ALL TO MYSELF. YOU HEAR THAT COLON? We have TWO. HOURS. AND. TEN. MINUTES!!!!! A HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I finally understand why my Mom shot off fireworks in the back yard the last night of summer vacation. I also understand why she talked to herself all of the time. And here's where this post ends; I believe the girls have found the chainsaw.