Summertime Blues

So summer is fast approaching and rather than being excited I'm actually a little anxious and wistful.

See, late yesterday in the middle of rush hour traffic in 97-degree heat on the first day of my period in 4-inch heels after drinking a 44-ounce Diet Coke to soothe my migraine, I drove 20 miles across town to spend $500 to reserve two spots in a summer camp for the boys where they know no one.

And suddenly my visions of lazy summer evenings in the backyard were replaced by visions of rush hour gridlock traffic, evenings spent in the car, impatient, hungry kids and drive-thru dinners.

Since my mom worked in an elementary school her summer schedule, with the exception of a couple of weeks, was like ours. That meant we weren't shuttled from camp to camp all summer long. We had idyllic summers full of sunbathing and swimming and play dates and bike rides and ice cream.

It may turn out fine. After all, they do have a lot of fun activities and field trips planned over the summer - most starting earlier than a school day. I guess I had just always hoped to have at least one summer that was relaxing for them and me. As they older and their summers get harder to plan, I'm afraid the opportunities for those carefree summers are slipping away.

Almost

If I were a baseball player, I would be in the dugout today.

The weekend started with Abby and me driving around "the park behind the hospital at the lake" trying to find a classmate's birthday party. When it comes to directions I have this tendency to assume I can find just about anything and in this case, I was wrong. I did feel a little better on Monday morning when the classmate's mom told me they'd moved the party at the last minute because of the threat of bad weather. "Remember when you were driving around and around," Abby kept reminding me. "Yes, but I least I know now I was in the right place." Strike one.

Saturday afternoon Jake had his final soccer game of the season. We piled into the minivan ... yes, a minivan on the way to soccer ... and after kicking the ball around with a few teammates, we realized we were at the wrong field. Strike two.

And then Monday afternoon, as soon as I picked Sam and Jake up from school we headed north to a 3:30 appointment for Jake. A 3:30 appointment that is scheduled for tomorrow. Strike three.

Oh well. Today is another day. Batter up.

Sno-Cones

In my attempt to create an idyllic weekend for Abby, Jake and me (I failed, by the way), we started the weekend at Aunt Stelle's Sno-Cones, an Oak Cliff icon.

Jake chose a chocolate sno-cone ("Tastes like Tootsie Rolls," she told me.) Abby chose strawberry because it's pink. I got lime, although I was secretly hoping they would have pickle. I've heard Texas tales about pickle sno-cones and never yet found one. I ended up eating most of mine and Abby's. Turns out, I'm not a fan of the chocolate sno-cone.

Mother's Daze

To be honest I started getting depressed about Mother's Day about a week ago. It seems like, along with many other holidays, it has become very commercialized and everywhere I turned was "the perfect gift for Mom." And, because holidays like Mother's Day and Valentine's Day, are often "under celebrated" in my house, I was starting to anticipate a less than thrilling Mother's Day. Throw in some guilt for being ungrateful, and I wasn't feeling my best last week.

And Mother's Day was much like I expected. Bryon and Sam were in Oklahoma camping so when a storm blew through at 3 a.m. I had to get up with Tag the Dog who is compelled to pace, scratch, howl and sit on Abby and Jake when it storms. He had calmed down by 6 and since it was a weekend I was sure the kids would sleep until 8, but no, both of them were up by 6:30. And they no longer were Abby and Jake, they were oil and water. The only thing that broke up the fighting, scratching and bleeding (yes, bleeding) was Jake knocking me on the head while yelling, "GET ME PANCAKES."

Good times.

When Bryon and Sam got home around noon he asked if there was anything I wanted to do. "I want to lie in bed," was all I could think of. Even then I vacillated between sadness and guilt ... For me, Mother's Day should be special - it doesn't have to be extreme or expensive - just thoughtful. And when no one in my family shares my belief, that's when I get sad.

So I thought I would skip this blog entry. After all, so many post-Mother's Day blogs are about how wonderful the day was and what wonderful kids they have, and this blog entry is well ... depressing.

But then, thank God, I read Meg's Mother's Day entry. She managed to say exactly what I felt, but with the humor and gratitude I had such a hard time conjuring.

So thank you Meg and all the honest moms like you. Yours was my favorite Mother's Day gift.

Her Perspective

This week Abby's teachers asked the moms to bring their own baby pictures so the kids and parents could play a Mother's Day version of Guess Who. They pasted the photos onto flower shapes and the kids answered questions about their moms to create a profile. This is mine, according to Abby:

My mom likes to eat waffles. She likes to work in her office. Her favorite color is yellow with green stripes.

I realize that on any given day Abby could've answered a hundred different ways. But I am a little bemused by her description of me. First, I don't like waffles. I happen to think that pancakes and waffles are two of the world's most overrated foods. Second, I would've rather her said my mom likes to cuddle or read to me or watch cartoons, like a few of the kids did. (It could be worse, however. Thanks to a candid kid, we now all know that one mom likes to eat tacos and use the potty.) And as far as the color, I would've sworn she thought my favorite color is pink.

So my goal for the weekend is to be the mom that I want Abby to think I am.

Bathroom Humor

Once during a visit to my grandmother's when I was about 10, I was surprised in the bathroom by my grandma's great niece who was a couple of years younger than me. I happened to be using the only bathroom when she burst in, asking me to get out quickly because she needed to go.

I vividly remember being both embarrassed and angry, probably more embarrassed. To this day I have bathroom issues - I don't like to share a bathroom and like many people, using one in a public place makes me slightly anxious. (Although I have to admit I am much less anxious after three pregnancies, during which I "eliminated" in any and all available bathrooms from Houston to Chicago.)

Anyway ... I think Sam shares a little of my anxiety. He is very private about bodily functions and using the bathroom. But today, his discretion backfired.

Sam, Jake and a friend were playing with soldiers in the den. I was folding clothes and needed to put away some guest bathroom towels. When I tried to open the bathroom door, however, it was locked. From the inside. With no one in it. I had heard a lot of running and door slamming while they were playing so I asked Sam, "Did something happen to this door?"

He immediately got defensive and I could tell there was a story to be told. Turns out, he needed to use the bathroom, but since Jake and Sam's friend were playing nearby, Sam had locked the bathroom door. Problem was, he couldn't unlock it when he was done. So, like any of us would do, he broke the screen in the bathroom window, climbed out and returned to his playdate.

"I didn't think you'd notice!" he finally admitted.

"You didn't think I'd notice that the bathroom door was locked? How is that possible Sam? I mean, it's so silly, it's funny."

So after a brief lecture about how I expect him to be honest and forthright with me in the future, he crawled back through the broken window and I talked him through unlocking the bathroom door.

I haven't told Bryon about the broken screen.

Maybe he won't notice.

Girl Talk

Abby: Momma, I like your boobies.

Me: Thank you Abby. One day you will have boobies too.

Abby: Big boobies?

Me: Probably not. Why do you want big boobies?

Abby: So I can ride the rollercoaster.